Chapter 1: Rough Engagement Night
The scent of vanilla clung to the sheets, almost but not quite hiding the sharper, animal scent of their skin. Moonlight cut through the sheer curtains, painting Patrick’s torso in strips of silver and shadow. Taylor traced one with her fingernail, from the dip of his collarbone down the rigid plane of his stomach. He was watching her, his green eyes black in the low light, his breath already shallow.
“You’re gonna make me lose control, aren’t you?” His voice was a rough scrape in the quiet room.
“That’s the point,” she said, her smile a quick, wicked flash before she disappeared under the satin.Her hands pushed his thighs apart, a firm, undeniable command. He let out a sharp groan as her mouth, hot and wet, took him all at once. There was no hesitation, no teasing preamble. She swallowed him deep, one hand curling tight around the base of his cock, the other gripping his hip, her nails biting into his skin. The world narrowed to this: the muffled sound of his cursing, the salt-and-musk taste of him, the solid weight of him on her tongue.
“Fuck, Taylor.” His hands tangled in her hair, not guiding, just holding on, his hips lifting involuntarily off the mattress.
She pulled back, leaving him slick and aching, and looked up the length of his body. “You taste good.” Her voice was husky, ruined.
Before he could answer, she was moving, a fluid shift of limbs in the dark. She swung a leg over his hips, the damp heat of her cushioning against him before she lifted herself up. Her eyes never left his as she reached between them, her fingers wrapping around him, guiding him to her entrance. She let the tip of him press there, a sweet, almost cruel pressure, and stayed utterly still.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his hands coming up to grip her waist, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin of her belly.
She did. And then she sank down, taking him inside in one slow, inexorable slide until she was fully seated, his hips flush against her ass.A long, shuddering sigh escaped her. He filled her completely, a perfect, stretching ache. For a moment, they just breathed, locked together, the air thickening around them.Then she began to move.
It started slow, a deep, rolling grind of her hips, but it built quickly. Her thighs flexed, her back arching as she rode him, finding a hard, driving rhythm.The slick sound of their joining punctuated the quiet. One of his hands slid from her waist around to the small of her back, holding her firm against his thrusts, while the other cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple.
“You feel insane,” he growled, his head pushing back into the pillows. “So fucking tight.”
“You like that?” she panted, leaning forward to brace her hands on his chest, changing the angle.A moan ripped from her throat.“Right there. Don’t stop.”
His control shattered. His hands flew to her hips, and he took over, driving up into her with a force that shook the bed. “Come for me,” he said, the words gritted out between clenched teeth. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
She was close, a tight, electric coil winding in her belly.But she had other plans. With a sudden, fluid motion, she pulled off him, earning a raw, frustrated sound from his throat. Before he could protest, she had turned, presenting her back to him. She glanced over her shoulder, her dark hair sticking to her damp cheek, her expression a challenge.“Not that way,” she breathed. “This way.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, dark and hungry.He didn’t need direction. His palm landed on her ass with a sharp, stinging crack that echoed in the room. She gasped, the pain lancing through her, bright and sweet, merging instantly with the throbbing need between her legs.He didn’t ask if she was ready. He used the wetness he found, his fingers sliding through her folds, circling her clit once, twice, making her cry out, before pushing one, then two fingers inside her. He prepared her with a rough, urgent efficiency that left her trembling.Then his hands were on her hips again, pulling her back onto her knees. He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock pressing against a different, tighter entrance.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice barely recognizable.“Yes,” was all she could manage.
He pushed in, a slow, burning stretch that stole the air from her lungs. She buried her face in the sheets, her fingers clutching the satin. He gave her a moment, his body shuddering with the effort of holding still, his hands gentle now on her hips.
“Okay?” His voice was soft against her shoulder blade.She nodded, pushing back against him.“Move.Please.”
He did. The initial burn faded, replaced by a deep, full sensation that was utterly consuming. His thrusts were slower now, more deliberate, each one grinding against a place inside her that made her see stars. One of his hands snaked around her hip, his fingers finding her clit again, rubbing quick, tight circles in time with his strokes.
The duel sensations—the deep, claiming penetration and the sharp, precise friction on her clit—unraveled her.Her moans became high, broken pleas. “Pat… I’m… don’t stop…”
“Let go,” he commanded, his own breath coming in ragged gasps, his pace faltering as he neared his own edge. “Come all over my hand. Let me feel it.”
It was the dirty, raw command in his voice that finally broke her. The climax ripped through her, a violent, shuddering wave that clenched around him, pulling a guttural shout from his own throat. He drove into her one last, deep time, his body locking as he spilled inside her with a helpless groan.
The collapse was gradual. He fell forward, catching his weight on his forearms, his chest heaving against her back.They stayed like that, joined and sweating, until his softening slipped from her. Then he carefully rolled them onto their sides, pulling her back against his chest, his arms banded around her.The only sounds were their slowing breaths and the distant hum of the city through the window.
He nuzzled the sweat-damp hair at her temple. “You’re a menace,” he murmured, his voice lazy and sated.
She smiled into the dark, placing a kiss on the forearm wrapped around her.“You love it.”
His arms tightened. “Yeah,” he said, the word simple and absolute. “I really do.”
His breathing evened out into sleep a few minutes later. Taylor lay awake, listening to it, feeling the warm, solid proof of him around her.The moonlight had shifted, now illuminating a single strip of the rumpled, stained sheets. A trophy, she thought with a sleepy, satisfied smile. Her body ached in the best possible way, a full, pleasant soreness that promised to remind her of this night for days.
Just as she was drifting off, his hand, even in sleep, slid down her stomach, his fingers splaying possessively over her. She drifted off with the unshakable certainty that this—the hunger, the laughter, the brutal honesty of skin on skin—was exactly where she was meant to be.
She drifted off with the unshakable certainty that this—the hunger, the laughter, the brutal honesty of skin on skin—was exactly where she was meant to be.
The deep, velvet black of sleep swallowed her whole.
Some indeterminable time later, a low, buzzing awareness began to penetrate the fog. It was a slow, liquid heat lapping at the edges of her consciousness. A soft, persistent pressure, gentle and knowing, between her legs.
Taylor stirred, a faint sigh escaping her lips. The sensation was distant, a part of a dream perhaps—a lush, private dream where Patrick’s mouth was on her, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles. She arched slightly into the warmth, still mostly asleep, a murmur lost in the pillow.
The pressure changed. A slow, slick slide. Then the warm, wet stroke of a tongue, flat and deliberate, from bottom to top.
Her eyes fluttered open in the dark. The room was the same, the moon having traveled across the window. Patrick’s weight was absent beside her, but his presence was everywhere. He was between her thighs, his hands spreading her open, his breath hot on her sensitive skin. He had turned her onto her back while she slept, her body pliant and trusting.
“Pat…” Her voice was thick with sleep, a confused whisper.
He didn’t answer with words. He answered with a deep, hungry groan that vibrated through her core, his mouth sealing over her completely. His tongue delved inside, tasting her, claiming the remnants of himself and her from earlier. It was an intimate, devastating kiss that sent a jolt of pure electricity straight up her spine.
“Oh, god.” Her hands found his hair, her fingers threading through the short, soft strands, not to push him away but to hold on. She was awake now, fully, every nerve ending alight.
He worked her with a focused, relentless reverence. His tongue was an artist, painting long, slow strokes, then flicking with rapid precision. He sucked gently, and her hips lifted off the mattress of their own volition. A high, thin sound escaped her.
Just as the first tight coil of a new climax began to wind deep in her belly, he changed the game. He slid one finger, then two, inside her, curling them up in a come-hither motion that made her cry out. His mouth never left her, his tongue now circling her clit in time with the slow, deep pump of his fingers.
“You taste like heaven and me,” he muttered against her, the words a hot, damp shock. “Wake up fully, Tay. Come for me while you’re awake.”
The command, gritty and raw, shattered her last remnants of drowsiness. She was present, vividly, painfully so. Every drag of his fingers, every suck of his mouth, was magnified. The pleasure was a cresting wave, undeniable and terrifying in its intensity.
“I’m… I can’t…”
“You can.” He added a third finger, stretching her beautifully, the faint burn drowned instantly by the flood of sensation. His thumb pressed down on her clit. “Let me feel it. Now.”
The orgasm broke over her not with a shout, but with a choked, gasping series of moans. Her body bowed, rigid, her thighs clamping around his head as he rode it out with her, his fingers working her through every pulsing, shivering wave until she was boneless, dragging air into her lungs in ragged gulps.
He crawled up her body, his lips and chin glistening in the moonlight. He kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. His erection, hard and heavy, pressed against her thigh.
“My turn to wake you up,” he said, his voice husky with satisfaction. He nudged her legs apart with his knee, his gaze locked on hers, dark and promising. “You with me?”
She could only nod, pulling him down by the back of his neck, her body already humming anew, ready for whatever came next.
She could only nod, pulling him down by the back of his neck, her body already humming anew, ready for whatever came next. But he paused, his lips a breath from hers. “Stay right there.”
He slid from the bed, the loss of his heat immediate. She watched, chest rising and falling, as he crossed to the dresser in the dark. She heard the soft click of a drawer opening, the faint rustle of contents. He returned with objects she couldn’t quite make out, placing them on the nightstand with a soft, decisive clunk.
“Hands and knees,” he said, his voice low. It wasn’t a question.
A fresh thrill shot through her. She turned, the satin sheets whispering against her skin, and got onto her knees. The position felt vulnerable, profoundly so, and she loved it. The cool air of the room touched her back, a contrast to the heat pooling low in her belly.
She heard the low buzz first, a mechanical purr that was entirely out of place in their organic world. Then she felt it, the smooth, cool silicone of the vibrator as he traced it down the length of her spine. She shivered.
“Easy,” he murmured. The buzz increased slightly, and then the rounded tip was circling her, parting her, sliding through her wetness before settling against her clit. The sensation was immediate and electric—a concentrated, unrelishing vibration that made her gasp and push back against it.
“Ah—Pat!”
His other hand, slick with something cool, smoothed over the curve of her ass. A fingertip pressed, slowly, insistently, at her other entrance. She whimpered, the dual points of contact splitting her consciousness. The vibrator hummed, a constant high-pitched demand, while his finger worked her open with a slow, stretching rhythm.
Just as she adjusted, just as the twin sensations began to weave together into a single thread of tension, she felt a new pressure. Wider. Blunter. He guided the head of the dildo, she realized, not his own cock. The solid, unyielding silicone pressed against her, and as his finger slid deeper into her ass, he pushed the dildo into her pussy in one smooth, filling stroke.
“Fuck.” The word was punched out of her. She was impossibly full, stretched in both directions, the vibrations from the toy on her clit ricocheting through her entire overloaded system. She was pinned between three points of pure sensation, a prisoner of pleasure.
He moved them then. His finger retreated from her ass almost completely, then pushed back in. The dildo withdrew from her pussy, then slid home. It wasn’t a frantic pace, but a deep, measured, alternating rhythm. Out. The vibrator never strayed, a relentless counterpoint.
“Can you feel it?” His voice was grit, strained with his own restraint. “Every bit of you is mine right now. Every part.”
She couldn’t speak. A string of moans was her only answer. Her world had condensed to the push and pull inside her, the buzz on her clit, the faint sound of slick friction. The pleasure was a live wire, frayed and sparking, threatening to blow a fuse. She was nearing the edge fast, too fast, a soaring, dizzying climb.
He sensed it. The rhythm stuttered. The dildo stilled, buried deep. His finger curled inside her, finding a spot that made her vision white out. The vibrator pressed harder.
“Come,” he commanded, and it was the only permission she needed.
It shattered her. The orgasm was a detonation, violent and total, ripping through her with a force that stripped her of thought, of sound, of everything. She collapsed forward onto her forearms, a sob catching in her throat as the waves kept coming, amplified by the relentless tools he still held in place, milking every last spasm from her.
Slowly, carefully, he turned off the vibrator. The silence it left was ringing. He withdrew the toys, the sensations of emptiness almost as profound as the fullness had been. She felt him move behind her, and then he was there, his own body replacing the silicone, sliding into her well-used, sensitive pussy with a groan that came from his soul. He was huge, real, warm.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him as he thrust, his pace frantic now, his control gone. His breath was hot on her shoulder.
“You wrecked me,” he gasped, his hips pistoning. “You wreck me.”
His release came with a choked cry, his body locking as he poured himself into her. They sank down together onto the ruined sheets, a tangle of trembling limbs.
For a long time, there was only the sound of their breathing slowing. The moonlight had moved again. He shifted first, pulling her back into the cradle of his body, his arms banded around her as if to ward off the entire world.
His lips touched her shoulder. “Still with me?” he whispered, the roughness gone from his voice, replaced by something tender and raw.
She managed a nod, her fingers finding his and lacing with them, bringing their joined hands to her chest, over her pounding heart. She was. More than ever.
More than ever. The words hung in the silent, dark room, a truth as tangible as the sweat cooling on their skin.
His breathing had almost evened out into sleep again when she shifted, turning in his arms to face him. In the dim moonlight, she could just make out the strong line of his jaw, the shadow of his lashes.She waited until his eyes opened, finding hers.
“Pat.”
“Hmm?”
She took a slow breath, her heart kicking against her ribs. “I want more.”
A stillness came over him.The sleepy haze vanished from his gaze, replaced by a sharp, green focus. “More what?”
“Everything. I want… I want you to control everything.” Her voice was steady, but low.“I want you to tie me up.I want to not have a choice. I want your hands, your toys… everything. I want to give you everything.”
He was silent for a long moment, just looking at her.Studying her.Then, slowly, he nodded. “Okay.”
It was a single word, but it held a universe of meaning.A contract.
He didn’t rush. He leaned in and kissed her, deep and slow, a sealing of the pact.Then he got out of bed. This time, he went to the closet, not the dresser.She heard the soft thud of a box being moved, the slide of a wooden hanger. He returned with a length of dark, silky rope and a small black bag she’d seen before but never asked about.
“Sit up,” he said, his tone gentle but devoid of argument.She did, crossing her legs, her back straight.He knelt behind her on the bed. He took her right wrist first, kissing the pulse point before he began to loop the rope. His movements were practiced, methodical. He didn’t tie her wrists together, but instead secured each to the sturdy posts of their headboard, giving her enough slack to move her arms slightly, but not enough to reach any part of herself.The silk was smooth, but unyielding.
“Too tight?” he asked, his fingers checking the space between the rope and her skin.“No. It’s perfect.”
He moved down her body. He tied her ankles next, securing them to the footboard posts, spreading her legs wide open in a stark, vulnerable ‘V’. She was completely exposed, completely helpless.A flutter of nervous excitement tightened her stomach.
He stood beside the bed then, looking down at her.His gaze was hungry, but controlled. He unzipped the black bag.The first thing he pulled out was a blindfold.He leaned over her. “Last chance to safe word.” His breath was warm on her cheek.
“Don’t need it.”
He slipped the blindfold over her eyes, and the world vanished into plush, black velvet. All her other senses roared to life.The smell of their sex and the vanilla candle. The feel of the satin under her back.The quiet sound of him moving around the room.Then, the buzz. It was different from the vibrator from before—lower, deeper, more of a powerful hum than a sharp whine.He didn’t use it on her immediately. He let her hear it, let the sound fill the dark space around her, a promise of what was to come.
She felt the bed dip between her spread thighs. His hands were on her inner knees, pushing them wider, opening her even more. Then, the cool, slick head of the large dildo, nudging at her entrance. He pushed it in slowly, relentlessly, until she was utterly filled, a low moan escaping her.He left it there, seated deep.
Next, his fingers, slick with more lube, circling her ass. He took his time, working one finger in with a slow, stretching corkscrew motion, then two. The feeling of being penetrated in both places was overwhelming, a fullness that bordered on too much.She was panting.
“You’re taking it so well,” he murmured, his voice coming from somewhere near her hip.“But you’re not in charge anymore. I am.”
The deep hum of the vibrator touched her then, not on her clit, but on the base of the dildo inside her. The vibration traveled through the silicone, buzzing deep into her core.She cried out, her back arching against the ropes.“Ah! God, Pat… please…”
“Please what?”
“More… please, more…”
He shifted the vibrator, holding it firmly against her where she was stretched around his fingers. The dual sensation of the deep internal vibration and the stretching, filling pressure of his fingers broke her into a thousand pieces. A rough, broken orgasm ripped through her, making her strain against the ropes, her cries muffled by the blindfold.He didn’t stop. As she shuddered through the aftershocks, he added a third finger, stretching her further. The vibrator moved to her clit, a sharp, focused buzz against the oversensitive nub. She sobbed, her body writhing, trapped by the ties.
“You don’t decide when it’s over,” he said, his voice calm, almost clinical.“I do.”
He removed his fingers. She heard the crinkle of a foil packet, the soft sound of him rolling a condom onto himself. Then she felt him, the hot, hard press of his own cock, replacing the fingers at her ass. He pushed in.It was a deeper, more visceral penetration than the toys. She was impossibly full, stretched to her absolute limit, the dildo still seated in her pussy, his cock claiming her ass.He held still, letting her adjust, letting her feel the totality of his control. The vibrator still buzzed insistently against her clit.Then he began to move. Slow, deep thrusts that shook her whole body. He fucked her with a devastating, measured pace, each thrust jostling the dildo inside her, sending shockwaves through her system. The vibrator did its relentless work on her clit, building a terrifying, inescapable pressure.
She was babbling, a stream of half-words, pleas, and affirmations. “Yours… all yours… please… don’t stop… can’t… I can’t…”
“You can,” he grunted, his pace increasing slightly.“You will. Give it to me.”
His command was the trigger.The orgasm that seized her was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. It wasn’t a wave; it was a structural collapse. Her world went white and silent behind the blindfold, every muscle locking, a silent scream trapped in her throat as pleasure, raw and violent, consumed her entirely.
He followed immediately, his own release a guttural shout as he drove into her one final, deep time, his body shuddering against hers.
For minutes, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing.Then, gently, he pulled out.He removed the dildo. He turned off the vibrator.The sudden stillness was a physical shock.
She felt him untie her ankles first, then her wrists, rubbing the marks left by the silk. Finally, he removed the blindfold.The moonlight was almost painfully bright. His face swam above hers, his expression softened, full of a fierce, awed tenderness.
He gathered her into his arms, her boneless body folding into his.He held her as a few final, helpless tremors ran through her.
“Taylor?” His voice was hoarse.“Hmm?”
“You…” He swallowed, his arms tightening. “You incredible thing.” He kissed her forehead.“Sleep now. I’ve got you.”
And she did, sinking into a profound, black ocean of sleep, anchored to him, more his than ever before.