It's big.
So big that my jaw aches just from allowing it space to pass between my teeth. One of his hands cups my face like I need encouragement.
I don't.
There's no room for me to move, to facilitate this act, but that's not what Noah wants anyway. His hips cant gently, easing his cock in and out of my mouth, and all I can do is take it.
Do I feel violated?
Maybe a little.
Does it feel good?
Oh yes. Yes it does.
Noah's using my mouth to steal pleasure that I'd willingly give. He wants to take it, though. My powerlessness is a flick of an illicit switch, magnifying every little sensation.
"Mmmmm," I hum around him, not able to control my pleasure, and Noah mutters a curse under his breath, his hips shifting with a little less finesse.
"You like that, huh?" he says, stroking my cheek. "You like your mouth stuffed full of my cock. You want me to fill that pretty throat of yours so you can taste me and swallow it down?"
I twitch my head up and down, and I hear Noah's breathless chuckle as though he was right next to my ear, not high above me. Without my sight, every sound is heightened, every touch a million times more vibrant.
"Tut-tut," he whispers, drawing back. "You think I'd give away what I have to give that easily? I'm a patient man, Kyla. Can you be patient?"
I want to yell, NO, and have done with it. No is the truth. I'm not patient at all. I'm hungry and eager, wanting to find out everything about this man, to taste his pleasure and feel his surrender.
What would he want me to say?
No is defiant. It goes against his wishes. But yes is submissive. I can't work out if that's what he wants from me or if the fight is part of his kink.
So I say nothing. I'm immobile and impassive, and I wait.
And wait.
And Noah draws back, his mouth beginning to explore the rest of my body. And God, it's so hard to stay still and silent. It's so hard not to show him that I love the way he kisses the skin at my wrists and the underside of my breasts. I love the trail of his fingers like whisper-soft feathers. I love the fleeting press of his warm body that hints at what it might be like if he'd just rest himself over me and push inside.
I'll beg for that if he doesn't give it to me soon. I'll plead for his cock to stretch me open. I'll strain at the bindings to be able to touch him because I'm getting to the point that I can't take anymore. I just can't.
"You ready for the banana?" he asks, so close to my ear that his breath feels wet.
For a second, I think he's serious. Then we both erupt into a messy splutter of laughter, and all the tension is dispersed just like that.
"I'm ready for your banana," I say softly. "And I wouldn't mind having my hands back for that."
"Just your hands?"
I think about it, weighing up the pros and cons, but he doesn't wait for me to answer. The ribbon binding my right wrist is loosened by eager fingers, and then Noah's legs settle against the inside of my thighs. "You get one hand back," he says. "The rest of you is still my prisoner."
The blood begins to prickle at my fingertips, so when I touch him, there's a weird disconnected feeling, as though he's a ghost and I'm seeking to touch something that isn't real. Noah seems that way sometimes. All the men of Ink Factor do.
Too good to be true.
Intangibly perfect.
Too special for me.
When he pushes inside me, it feels so good that I can't hold in the moan that surges from deep within my chest. Tears prick my eyes, knowing how close I'm getting to the end of the night and the end of the game.
"You're so fucking tight," he whispers against my lips, his voice strained as though he's gritting his teeth. The angle he's fucking into me gives so much friction to my clit that it's almost painful. There's no shifting to change it either. I'm still tethered to the bed, totally in Noah's power. "You feel so fucking perfect," he grunts, this time kissing me in a deep and frenzied way that sends me tumbling down, down, down into the very depths of pleasure. The orgasm sneaks up on me, sending me spinning with a whip-crack of pleasure, and Noah fucks me through it all, his hand pinning my still-tethered arm to the bed. I use my free hand to clutch at his perfect ass, pulling him deeper, urging him harder, wanting to know what it feels like when he comes inside me.
I don't know if he's wearing a condom, and I don't care.