Goes inside

The door clicked shut behind her with a soft thud. The apartment was quiet, sun slanting across the carpet, dust motes swirling lazily. Tasha could already smell him—clean sweat, leather, a faint tang of lube. Her mouth curled.

She pulled the hoodie off in one long shrug, letting it fall behind her on the floor. The hem of the shirt underneath came next, dragged up over her ribs, catching on her breasts before she yanked it free and tossed it aside.

Naked. Ready. Thrumming.

It had been three days since she'd come properly—really come, not just rubbing out a lazy, impatient flick. Three days since someone else had made her feel it. And now this: a willing body, bound, silenced, completely hers.

She padded over to the bed and climbed up with the grace of a woman who had absolutely no intention of waiting. He twitched beneath her weight, blindfold still secure, gag clenched in his jaw, the muscles in his thighs jumping.

"Still breathing? Good boy," she murmured, settling between his legs.

His cock stood proud, rigid, pulsing with anticipation. She gripped it without warning—fingers wrapping tight around the shaft, tugging twice with slow, deliberate pressure. He jerked against the cuffs, muffled noise catching in his throat. She grinned and leaned in, mouth open, lips wrapping around the head, tongue swirling once before she sucked him deep, then popped off just as fast.

Hard enough. Wet enough. No question.

She crawled up his body and straddled his hips, one hand bracing on his chest as she angled herself over him, breath sharp, skin electric.

And then she sank down—slow and full—her thighs trembling as she took him all the way.

Her mouth dropped open in a silent gasp.

“Ohhh… fuck, yes. That’s what I needed.”

She stayed there for a breath, hips flush to his, savoring the pressure. The stretch. The pulsing throb of him locked inside her. Her nails bit lightly into his chest as she rolled her hips once, slow and grinding, just to feel the full slide of him against her walls.

His body arched beneath her—bound, blind, gagged—and it only made her wetter.

She started to move.

Small bounces at first, testing, teasing—her thighs lifting just enough for him to slip nearly out before she dropped again with a soft, wet slap of skin on skin. Her breath caught, and she did it again. Again. Her pace picked up, hips clapping down against him as slick heat built fast in her core.

He was trying to stay still—he always tried—but the cuffs rattled as he bucked helplessly beneath her, responding to every motion she made.

“Fuck, you love this, don’t you?” she breathed, voice low, hungry, her hands bracing now against his ribs as she rode him faster, letting her ass smack hard against his thighs with every bounce.

She could feel herself starting to tremble. Muscles tightening. That coil in her belly winding tighter with each slap of flesh, each helpless noise vibrating against his gag.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she bounced again, harder now, needing more.

“God, yes... keep it just like that... fuck yes...”