When I nod, his hands slide up my sides and he grips my breasts, eyes on me as he sucks and licks, fingers moving up and over my chest, cupping me. Tongue flat, teasing.

With my arms bound, he pulls me up his body as he turns and lies on the couch, resting his head on the arm, legs stretched out behind me. Finn positions me with my legs spread over his mouth, rocking me there, and moaning, grunting against my skin. He keeps talking while he licks me, telling me he likes it, I taste good. Telling me I like it, that he can tell I’m going to come. I’m flushed, I’m shaking. He barely moves at all, just whispering and kissing and licking and somehow . . . somehow just his breath and the heat, the press of his tongue against my clit . . . I’m starting to sweat from the effort of holding my body upright. His eyes flame, hands reaching away from my breasts to grip the cord behind my back, somehow both holding me upright and pulling me farther onto him.

I can’t grip the sofa. I can’t grip him. I can’t focus on anything, anything at all, and it feels so good to just let go. To hand it all over. I’m writhing against the intense pleasure, legs wide, body so hungry I want more pressure and more wet and more of him. All of my weight is on him or held up by his arms and I’m coming so hard my legs are shaking, my back curling sharply away as I cry out. Maybe I scream—I don’t have any idea other than I feel like I’ve exploded, melted, been put back together and he’s still talking, saying,

Good girl

Oh so fucking good

You like that?

You like it?

You’re candy on my mouth, fucking sweet

Wet, so ready

You wanna get fucked now?

Somehow, the last question presses into my thoughts and pulls a “Yes, please . . . now” from me. His hands wrap around my hips, mouth sliding along my belly, my breasts, over my neck as he sits up and backs me onto his lap.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he groans when his cock slides between my legs. I whimper, wanting him inside, wanting to feel him tear loose and pound up into me.

Whispering, “Shh, shh, almost ready, almost,” Finn reaches to grab the condom at his hip and quickly tears it open. I’m gasping, feeling the sweat run down my neck and between my breasts. Feeling the cool air on my forehead, my stomach. I’m trembling against him, trying to focus on one thing, but it’s impossible. Finn is gorgeous, his chest broad, every muscle tense, skin slick with sweat as he rolls the condom on.

“Oh God,” I gasp, when he kisses my breast, sucking the peak and groaning.

I’ve never felt this desperation—I’m bound, he’s huge, he could do anything he wants but . . . look—look how careful and focused he is, look how he makes me come and talks to me and praises me. A tiny pulsing suspicion at the back of my mind tells me this urgency isn’t about escaping reality right now.

It’s about him.

“Hurry,” I whimper.

He steadies me with a hand on my thigh, holding his cock with the other hand, and whispers, “Okay, shh, shh, I’m ready, I’m ready. Here. Come here.”

I lower my body with his help, taking him in and oh God. It takes forever to feel the length of him ease into me. I’m shaking and a little wild, wanting to ride him, but he’s holding me down on him with one fist curled around the cord at my back, the other knotted in my hair. He’s so deep, so deep inside—and I swear I can feel his pulse, can taste his need to buck up into me.

He groans, rocking his hips just the slightest bit. “Don’t make any sounds,” he murmurs into my neck. “Your little sounds will make me come before I’m ready.”

I have to bite my lip to stay quiet, and he praises me for the effort with a kiss. With his hands spread wide on my hips and across my ass, he raises me, and lowers me, and when he raises me again, he holds me there, and then starts a fast, relentless rhythm up into me. He speaks the whole time, and it isn’t even really about what he’s saying, because half the time I’m lost and can’t process anyway. It’s the sound of his voice. The richness of it, the reassurance of it. Words like pretty and good and strong and lose it, oh fuck I’m gonna lose it filter in through the haze of pleasure.

It’s so good. It’s so good.

This is the only thing I can think, over and over. He’s making me stare right into his eyes—at least it feels that way, though I don’t think he’s actually told me to. But the way he’s looking at me . . . it’s intense and obsessed and tender and adoring. I can’t look away, I don’t want to.

I don’t remember ever coming like this, where I can’t localize the sensation, can’t pinpoint where it starts, or even how long it lasts. I’m trying to be quiet, trying so hard, but my cries slip out even as I taste blood on my lip. I give up, screaming and pulling against the binding as the wild bliss tears through me.

Finn growls, thrusting up hard and fast—and then he bellows, pulling at the cord behind my back and shoving so deep in me as he comes that I feel bent in two.

He slows, and then stills, wrapping his arms around me and grunting into my neck with every quiet exhale—fuck, fuck, fuck—long after he’s already come. Around me, his big arms are shaking from exertion, wet with sweat, and I’ve never felt more overwhelmed by someone in my entire life.

I realize I’m going to cry only a split second before I feel the tears spill and run down my cheeks.

But his face is still pressed to my neck, his breaths slowly evening out. “Harlow. Don’t move. I can’t . . . just give me a second.”

I don’t think I could even if I wanted. I don’t ever want to move off him.

His mouth slides over my shoulder, and he begins to slowly massage my thighs, my ass, my lower back. Lifting me carefully, he reaches between us and takes off the condom, quickly tying it and dropping it somewhere on the couch next to us.

And then he’s loosening the knot at my back.

“No,” I choke.

He looks at me, sees the tears on my cheeks and maybe thinks I’m crying because I don’t want him to free me. I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m just spent, and if he can’t be inside me anymore I need to be tied up, and if I can’t be tied up I need another way to know that, right now, I’m his and he’ll take care of me. That he’ll take over and fix everything because I’m not sure I know how.

Finn swipes at my face with his thumbs. “I have to, sweetheart, you can’t be bound up any longer.”