All I need is Julian.

He shifts on top of me, propping himself up on his elbows. The hard, smooth tip of his erection brushes against my inner thigh as he lowers his head to kiss me, and I tense with anticipation as I feel him beginning to press in.

I’m wet and slick from the orgasms, my body primed for his possession, yet I still feel the stretch as his thick cock forces apart my inner walls, the sensation stopping just short of pain. His tongue invades my mouth at the same time, and I can’t even moan as he begins to move, his thrusts deep and rhythmic. It’s overwhelming, the feel of him, the taste of him, the way his body completely dominates and claims mine. I can’t see, can’t move. I’m drowning, and he’s my only salvation.

I don’t know how long it takes before the pulsing tension coils in my core once more. All I know is when Julian comes, I come with him, shuddering and crying out in his embrace.

Afterwards, he removes the blindfold and the ropes and carries me to the shower. I’m so exhausted I can barely stand, so Julian washes me, taking care of me as if I were a child. When he brings me back to bed, he pulls me into his arms, and as I fall asleep, I hear him say softly, “I will give you the world, my pet. The whole fucking world—just as long as you’re mine.”

18

Julian

I wake up the next morning to the familiar feel of Nora sprawled on top of me. As usual, she’s sleeping with her head pillowed on my chest and one of her slim legs draped across my thighs. I can feel the soft, plump weight of her breasts against my side, hear her even breathing, and my cock stiffens as recollections of last night invade my mind in graphic detail.

I don’t know why I occasionally feel this urge to torment her, to hear her beg and plead. Why the sight of her bound to my bed gives me such satisfaction. When we were driving from her parents last night, I planned to take her gently and have her go to sleep, but when I saw her standing next to that four-poster bed, my good intentions went up in smoke. Something about the way she had been looking at me sharpened the dangerous hunger inside, bringing the darkness to the surface. What I wanted to do to her only began with ropes, and if I hadn’t made myself walk out of the room after tying her up, I would’ve broken the vow I made to myself the night I hurt her.

The vow to keep violence out of our bedroom for the next few months.

Thankfully, leaving her for a bit and taking a cold shower in one of the guest rooms seemed to do the trick, taking the edge off the craving. When I came back, I was more in control, able to settle for torturing her with pleasure instead of pain.