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He takes his time, tying it around my waist, and the concentration is so intense, such a turn-on, I could come just by watching him, sinking down into it all with him.
Next, he threads it and knots it on my left upper thigh, then my right.
And then he pulls, drawing my legs apart and up. I think he slides the rope past my arms, and he does something to attach me to the sofa, and I’m secure. Tight.
“You’re beautiful, Scarlett. So fucking beautiful.”
And he strips off his clothes.
Naked, he truly is a god, golden flesh, perfection personified.
He strokes himself, eyes on me, the gleam of arousal so hot it burns into my soul. He’s got me open for him. And I’m at his mercy.
“Ass or cunt?” he asks again. “Or do you want both?”
Something in me leaps at that, and he smiles like he can see inside me.
“It’s both, isn’t it?” Malone asks.
I whisper, “Yes.”
He kneels between my thighs, my ass elevated, and though I’m not sure I can take more tonight, I need his cock. It’s a physical need that makes me hurt, deep inside. It’s not a specific kind of pain, but just a dull ache that needs to be assuaged.
Malone slides his fingers through my wetness, and I moan. Then he lines himself up, the head of his cock pushing at my opening.
He thrusts in slowly, taking his time, and the stretch is good. It alleviates that ache when he sinks into me, balls deep.
Once he’s inside of me, he stills, unmoving as our gazes fuse.
“Hang on, Baby Red, we’re going for that ride.”
He starts out slow, with measured, deep strokes, and the bliss on his face makes my stomach dip and soar. Each time he sinks into me, it’s harder, more forceful, until soon, he’s hitting those deep spots in me, making them quake and quiver with pleasure.
Sweat starts to bead on his forehead, and he wraps his hands around the rope on my thighs, slamming in harder now.
“Fuck…”
I start to climb up to another orgasm; the waves start to come from deeper within, not my clit, which he’s not touching. If he did, I might scream the place down, it’s so sensitive, too sensitive, even this slight rubbing agitates it. But oh God, this is good, and I start to come, squeezing hard on him and he shudders, pulling out.
He doesn’t give me time to think as he lines up with my asshole. He pushes in and then starts to slam into me, balls slapping my pussy lips with each thrust. It’s fast and deep and dirty, and I’m still coming when he hammers into me one more time before grunting another, “Fuck!” and he fills me.
I feel his hot release inside of me. The twitching jerk of his cock.
He collapses on top of me, still in my ass, and he kisses me with wild, deep kisses. There’s no finesse to these. They’re chaotic, beautiful things that are all tongue and bites and licks and sweet and hard devouring. Nibbles. The kisses are everything.
Finally, they slow to softness, and he finally just drops, his head buried in my throat, and the hammer of his heart syncs with mine. His heat is a blanket, his weight security.
And we stay like that for long moments that don’t seem to have an end.
But of course, they do, and he gets off me sometime later. He leaves me tied up as he pulls on his boxer briefs and walks over to the bar. I know that’s what he does because I hear the telltale sign of liquid hitting glass.
He’s not gone for long. He comes back, sipping one drink as he sets down the other.
“I’m going to get a blanket, and then I’ll untie you, okay?”
“M-Malone…” My voice is so thick I can barely get his name out. And he kisses my lips, the taste of scotch a comfort.
“Trust me. At least with this.”
