Melted and Whipped by Cleo Pietsche Page B

pain. The room is heavy with the scent of my arousal. Porter moans, then he’s sitting up, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down. I’m still spasming as I take in the magnificent sight of his nude body. His legs are thick with muscle, and his balls are swollen. What would they feel like under my lips?
    Suddenly I think I understand the urge to taste; I want to suck him again, and not much would change that.
    Porter rips open the foil packet and sheaths himself quickly. He squeezes my nipples, and orgasmic aftershocks ripple through me. Porter unties the gag and wipes my mouth dry.
    “The gag has to come off so I can hear your cries as I fuck you,” he says. “I want to kiss your lips when you come around my cock.” He drags his heavy shaft from my clit to my hole, and I think I’m going to combust. I’d reach for him if I weren’t restrained.
    He doesn’t need to ask me what I want; the demand is in his eyes, and anyway I’m happy to tell him.
    “Be inside me, Porter,” I say. “Please.”
    “You want me to fuck you?” he asks, the head of his cock nudging into me.
    “Yes,” I say, practically sobbing with need. I try to raise my hips, to trick and entice him in.
    Porter resists me. “Say it,” he orders, his eyes burning. “Tell me what you want, Emily.”
    “I want you to fuck me! Please, Porter. I’ve waited all these years.”
    He bucks his hips, impaling me on his shaft. I practically explode. He fills and stretches me, and he’s too big yet just right. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I moan over and over.
    He grabs my knees, pushes my legs back, then pounds me hard. Each thrust makes my breasts bounce. The slapping of bare flesh rings through the room.
    This isn’t making love. This is fucking. He’s almost brutal, but he somehow senses my limits, how hard he can bang into me without going too far.
    “Ask for more,” he says.
    “More. More. Please don’t stop, please don’t…” I lose the ability to speak.
    Porter pulls out, flips me over. His right hand smacks my ass hard, then he pulls me by my hips onto my hands and knees. It’s awkward because of how I’m tied, but his urgency is stronger than any discomfort, and I won’t snap my fingers, not unless I’m dying. I’ve longed for a man to take me like this, like we’re animals.
    He slams into me, establishing a fast, punishing rhythm. I know I’m probably all jiggly, but I don’t care.
    This is what I want, this is all that matters: Porter Loughton fucking me like he can’t control himself.
    Except he clearly can, because he hasn’t come yet. That’s fine. I could do this all night.
    He covers my mouth with his hand. “Have you ever been fucked in the ass?” he asks.
    I nod.
    “Do you like it?”
    I shrug.
    “Then I’ll go easy on you tonight.” He presses a finger between my lips. I think he wants me to suck him, but as soon as his finger is wet, he takes his hand away. Then he’s at my pucker, pressing in.
    There’s no point in fighting him, and anyway I’m seconds away from the most amazing orgasm of my life.
    Between having my holes stuffed full and the way he’s smacking my ass, I lose it, and then he comes, grunting, fucking me hard. I think I might even scream, but I don’t know because I’m somewhere else, transported to a paradise I never knew existed.
    With a practiced tug on the black rope, Porter releases me from the tether. We tumble onto the bed. Porter pulls me close, his muscular arms wrapped tight around me as his fingers quickly free my wrists. His fingers rub into my skin, soothing.
    This man takes care of his lovers. I always suspected that on some level, but now I know it.
    My body relaxes against his. Porter’s even breathing lulls me into a dreamlike state.
    “What did you mean earlier?” I ask. “The thing you started to say, the thing you said you felt stupid admitting… but then we started making out.”
    “It’s nothing,” he says, but I’m not sure I believe him.

Chapter