“Not that I’m complaining,” comes his sleep-roughened voice, “but if you’re trying to pet me into sleep, it’s having the opposite effect.”
I glance down, my throat going dry. His cock is hard, mere inches away from my hand. That hadn’t been the goal, but I’m not going to complain. Not when I know what it feels like to have him deep inside me.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, trying to focus and doing a terrible job of it. My hand grasps his cock of its own accord.
“Right now, I’m feeling rekking great.”
“How did you sleep?” These questions are important. He was practically delusional last night, but I can’t make myself stop touching him. He feels too good.
“Well enough. I’m not thinking about sleep right now, Whisper.”
I swallow hard as he flips me into the bed and pins me. This isn’t the desperately sweet coupling from the night before, this is savage and raw. Without words, I wrap my arms around him, accepting the vital thrust of his cock in one swift movement. He holds me there, impaled by him, as he reaches for something on the window ledge above his bed. I hadn’t noticed before, but there are several contraptions there. It dawns on me these are probably the sex toys I’ve heard so much about. My belly quivers with anticipation. What little fear I feel is mingled with excitement. I don’t know what he’s going to do, but I’m looking forward to it.
He twists the device with a deft flick of his wrists, and it separates into two pieces. Hinged at the center, they open when he applies pressure and I realize with a spear of heat directly to my core that they’re like clamps. My mind races with all the places he could use those on me.
“Pretty, sweet Quinn. Will you let me play with you?”
This is the Oz who lurks beneath the surface of that mischievous face. The one who needs to be let loose to release all that coiled tension. And he’s mine.
I can only nod.
His responding grin is devastating.
I’ll do anything to have the opportunity to make him smile like that again.
Whatever he wants.
He traces the clamp in his right hand down my parted lips, along my throat, and around my nipples. I squirm beneath him, needing the friction, but he’s content to focus on my body, looking at me like he looks at the weapon he’s trying to build, like he’s both fascinated by me and determined to bend me to his will.
With a wicked gleam in his eye, he licks at my nipples, lubricating them until they’re glossy from his mouth and beaded to painful attention. The first clamp has me bucking. The second has me moaning. I’m certain I can be heard throughout the whole facility, but the sounds coming from my chest are animalistic, untamable. I move to cover my mouth with my free hand, but Oz has them both above my head and secured against the bed frame with another contraption so fast I don’t have a moment to stop him.
His gaze meets mine and he jerks his head in question. I nod for him to continue. At this point I’d probably kill him if he stopped.
He produces a third and fourth clamp. I begin to sweat, my chest heaving with every gasp for air. The movement causes the clamps on my nipples to wiggle back and forth, eliciting hot sparks of sensation I can do nothing to satiate.
Oz pulls out and says, “You’ll let me know if you get uncomfortable.” At my nod, he continues moving down until he’s between my spread legs. “I’ll have to make another set of those restraints. I’ve never thought about it before, but I’d like to see your legs restrained next time, all spread out for me.”
“Okay,” I breathe. What else is there to say? I want that too.
The image is burned into my brain as Oz fixes his mouth to my clit. He sucks and laves until I’m writhing underneath him. He brings me to the edge of orgasm, then fixes the third clamp to one of my pussy lips. I cry out in a combination of shock and pain. The sensation is intense, not necessarily unpleasurable, but shocking. His mouth returns to the space between my legs until I’m crying out again, then he does the same to the other side with the remaining clamp.
By this time, I’m panting wildly. My nipples are on fire with the need for release. The clamps are positioned in such a way that when he mounts me again, they don’t get in the way. In fact, they almost draw all attention to the area, making where he fucks me one big throbbing pool of need.
Then he pulls out a vibrator.
I think a part of me dies.