31. Maren

Locke looks good tied down; starved of me, satisfied with me, like he's deliriously happy and out of his mind.

I lower myself down onto his mouth.

His hum reverberates up through my stomach, causing a new gush to coat his face.

And with every fiber stitched throughout me, I understand how fucking good it feels to dominate someone, possess them—because he's mine . It's beautiful to see him wet with me and loving it. It just doesn't feel quite as good as when I'm his , but this comes in a very close second, and whenever he wants to switch roles, I'll happily oblige.

I arch my back and ride Locke's face. My hands pull at the roots of his hair, holding his head right where I want it.

"This tongue is perfect," I say, when he finds that rhythm and pressure that make me gasp. "You're mine." He moans something back incoherently. I look down at him just as his eyes fall closed, like he's lost in a fantasy with traces of a smile crinkled in the corners. "Look at me when I'm being your dirty slut and watch me come."

His eyes flutter open, and they're so dark, almost bottomless, that I feel like I could tip forward and fall into them. I grab the headboard to steady myself from the lightheadedness .

He groans like I've sent him to heaven, pride bursting from the corners of his otherwise expressionless face. "Fuck," I make out from the semi-words he's muttering against my clit. His arms are straining, desperate for friction that he can't give himself.

"Locke," I moan as my orgasm builds. My hips have a mind of their own, grinding down against his mouth. My thighs shake and clench around his head. I can't look anywhere else except his eyes as I read every emotion that flicks like Morse code across his face.

And he just watches me, intensity burning like coal in his eyes stuck on mine, as I shamelessly come undone for him.

When I've regained some semblance of brain activity and lift my jelly legs, he follows with his head to take one last lick, even though his face is covered. "I could watch you come like that forever. Come back and do it again. I'll edge myself for hours for you. Just use me."

"No," I say, after consideration, shaking my head. "I want to sit somewhere else."

I slide myself down and rub my sensitive clit along his shaft. Locke sucks in a harsh breath at the contact.

"Part of me never wants this to end, but don't touch me unless you plan for me to be inside you," he warns hoarsely. His body tenses, and all the veins in his arms swell under his skin.

Instead of listening, I rock my hips to watch his eyes roll back in bliss.

"Where's all your self-control, Locke?" I whisper playfully.

"Maren," he says, voice low like he's mustering all his strength. He lifts his hips off the bed to match my tempo and grinds back. "It's going to be the pleasure of a lifetime watching you ride my cock."

Only Locke could take one sentence and make it sound beautiful and filthy at the same time.

I lift and take him in my hand, lining him up to where I'm dripping wet.

As I gradually sink down around him, he stretches me, fills me perfectly .

"Shit," we both hiss at the same time.

Immediately, I need more. More friction. More movement. More body contact.

I angle, thrusting my hips into Locke's, and wrap my hands around his neck to try to find anything more that I can.

"Fuck, play with those nipples," Locke murmurs, reading my mind.

Straightening my back, I take my breasts in my hands and throw my head back. I roll my nipples in between my thumbs and index fingers, causing a zing to radiate outward and a moan to escape my lips.

But still, I know what would feel even better.

I lean back over, cradle my hands around the back of Locke's head and bury his face into my cleavage.

He sinks his teeth into my left boob before sucking my nipple into his mouth. He's mastered the balance between soft, sweet nips and heated pain—or he's become so familiar with my body he knows exactly how to drag moans out of me.

Locke switches sides, not allowing me to go silent for longer than a second. I slow my pace, immersed completely with how deep he is, how full I feel.

"You take every inch so well," he says gruffly. "Fucking gorgeous. Use that cock to make yourself feel good." I rise and gradually lower myself back down again all the way, and Locke hums. "Good girl."

His praise twists through me, and a satisfied sigh leaves my lungs. Suddenly, slow doesn't do it for me anymore. I need it hard and fast and wild.

Locke senses my shift and tugs on a rope eagerly. "Give me one hand, baby. Just one." He smiles, all dimples, when I narrow my eyes. "I'll make it worth it."

Without bothering to stop rocking on his dick because it feels too good at this angle when he hits my clit, I untie the rope around his right wrist. I trust him completely, and I know he will make it more than worth it .

As soon as it's free, his hand is all over me. Across my boobs and stomach, cradling my hips, smacking my ass. He sweeps it up my leg and runs his thumb over my clit. Electricity jolts, molten lava pooling in my stomach at his touch. But three circles later, he abandons that plan and grasps my throat to pull my face to his.

"That's it," he tells me when my hips pick up speed at the intimacy. "Show me how much you like riding my dick like the whore we both know you are just for me."

His words brush against my lips as he talks a millimeter from my mouth. His kiss is forceful, and his tongue presses against mine in a frenzy. My entire body prickles when he sucks on my tongue.

He squeezes just enough around my neck, and my head fills with delicious pressure. "Stick out that tongue," he instructs.

When I lay it out flat, he places his middle finger down, wetting the pad of it thoroughly. Then, with his eyes never straying from mine, he runs his tongue along the tip, mixing our saliva, before his hand skates down my back and grabs my ass hard. He presses his fingers into my cheek, feeling me bounce until he spreads it, and with his wet middle finger, circles around my back entrance.

My breath hitches in anticipation against his mouth.

I've never done this , I tell Locke telepathically. He looks back in understanding. But I want to. I want to give you everything.

"Do you want to come with my finger in your ass?" he asks, voice deep and surprisingly earnest.

I nod before I remember my words. All of my words are his. "Yes," I whisper.

"Good," he says. "Because I want to take everything from you. I may be the one tied down, but you're mine, and I will own every part of you, Maren."

Locke tips his chin a centimeter to kiss my lips as he presses his finger into me. He swallows my moan.

This new feeling thrums along every pleasure pathway in my body, heightening my euphoria in a way I've never experienced .

"God," I moan, wanting to be his good little whore. I press back, driving his finger deeper.

He smirks. "I'm going to fuck you into this mattress, and you're going to love every second of it."

Words almost hold more power over my brain than the physical, because that takes my body up an incredible notch.

Locke and I breathe heavily, sweaty and wild, as we ride each other. I push down, he pushes up.

Our orgasms build together quickly, each of us nearing total derangement, fervor, passion—a state of being without a known definition.

"Such a good fucking girl," Locke murmurs affectionately. "Come for me, Maren."

His words push me over a ledge I never knew I could reach. This is what it feels like to fuck. To make love. To be a slut. To be used. To be appreciated. To be worshiped.

And when he starts to tremble with me, Locke catches his name moaning out of my mouth with his, and I feel him come inside me.

I'm his.

My entire body pulses and pulses in rapid fire at the thought until I can't take it anymore, and I collapse down on top of him.

I sure as hell won't be able to walk tomorrow, and I wasn't even the one who was tied down.