“I am, I — Oh God, Tanner, fuck,” she moans as I push two fingers firmly inside her, when I pull them out they’re slick. I just can’t help myself, there is nothing I love more than tasting her arousal from her own lips.

“Come here.”

Kinsley moves to face me and I hold my fingers out, she hums in approval before wrapping her lips around them, sucking greedily. That right there is my undoing, my mouth crashes into hers and she opens, letting my tongue seek out what it craves. I find her nipple with one hand whilst the other guides her into the middle of the bed. I pinch and roll her nipple between my fingers, swallowing the whimpering sounds she makes with my mouth.

Needing more, I break away from her and sit myself between her open legs. I plant a soft kiss on the inner of each thigh before circling her clit with my tongue. She threads her fingers into my hair, holding me there and I happily oblige, bringing her climax out one stroke at a time. I don’t stop until I feel her body slump into the mattress and the grip on my hair is gone.

I look up and she’s propped on her elbows, watching me with sweet pleading eyes.

“I need you inside of me, Tanner, please.”

“Whatever my girl wants,” I say, my voice low and gravelly.

I make quick work of removing my pants and briefs before hovering above her again. She’s so fucking perfect, lying there for me, all fucking mine. I lean down, taking her lips in a delicate kiss as I slowly thrust inside her.

So fucking warm. So. Fucking. Tight.

Her hands are on me; in my hair, on my chest, her nails grazing up and down my back. A lot of the time I tie her hands up, but it’s not because I don’t like her touching me. No. If it was up to me, her hands would be all over me, constantly. I tie her up because she gets off on it, it’s one less thing she has control over, and in her mind that means one less thing she has to worry about.

For Kinsley, it frees her mind to be able to box up her choices during sex and hand it over to someone she trusts. For that period of time, she doesn’t need to make any decisions, there is no pressure on her. If I wrap my hand around her dainty little neck, she doesn’t even need to decide whether she breathes or not. Some people wouldn’t understand, but I do. I’ll happily carry the weight of her choices forever if that’s what she needs. I’ll burn the box she’s so neatly packed them all into just so she never has to open it ever again.