Chapter 75: Erotic sex II R18+

Xavier obeyed.

Destiny straddled him, the heat of her pressed against his thigh for a moment before she shifted, rolling the condom onto his newly stiffened cock with fingers that never fumbled. Then she positioned herself above him, one hand wrapped around the base of his shaft, guiding him to her entrance.

She sank down.

The heat was staggering. Tight and wet and slow, god, so slow, inch by controlled inch, her inner muscles fluttering around him as she took him deeper. Her eyes stayed locked on his the entire time, watching every micro-expression flicker across his face.

"Eyes on me," she whispered. "Always on me."

She began to move.

Not bouncing.. grinding. Her hips rolled in a circular rhythm that kept him buried to the hilt, clit pressed against his pubic bone with every rotation. Her breathing changed, shallowing out, and a flush crept up her chest and throat. She reached for the blindfold on the bed beside them.

"You trust me?"

"Yes."

The silk settled over his eyes. The world went dark.

In the blackness, everything amplified. The wet sound of their joining. The creak of the bedframe. The sharp little gasp she made when she angled her hips a certain way. Her hands found his wrists and guided them above his head, and then the cool kiss of the restraints circled his skin.

She tightened them. Not painfully, snugly.

"Now," she said, her voice coming from somewhere above him in the dark, "let’s see what you can take."

The leather of the riding crop tapped gently against his inner thigh.

Xavier’s entire body went rigid, straining against the restraints, and somewhere in the darkness Destiny laughed low and warm and full of promise.

In the dark, every nerve ending became a live wire.

Destiny’s weight shifted above him, her inner muscles clenching in a slow, deliberate pulse that yanked a groan from somewhere deep in Xavier’s chest. The blindfold pressed against his eyelids, a constant reminder that he’d surrendered the visual world. All he had now was sensation: the wet grip of her around his cock, the brush of her thighs against his hips, the occasional graze of her nipples against his chest when she leaned forward.

She was still grinding. That circular, pelvis-rolling rhythm she’d established before the lights went out. But something was changing.

Her tempo fractured.

The grind became a lift. She rose until just the head of him remained inside her, paused there for a breath, two breaths, and then dropped. Hard. The slap of her ass against his thighs cracked through the room, and Xavier’s hips bucked upward, spine arching off the mattress.

"Oh, you liked that." Her voice floated somewhere above him, amused. "Do it again."

She did it again.

And again.

Each descent drove the air from his lungs in a punched-out syllable. The restraints bit into his wrists when he pulled against them, a bright edge of discomfort that somehow sharpened everything else. Her pace accelerated, the grinding abandoned entirely now in favor of a bounce that sent shockwaves rippling through his abdomen every time she bottomed out.

"Destiny..." His voice sounded wrecked, even to his own ears.

"Shh." Her palm flattened against his chest, nails dragging lightly through the hair there. "You don’t get to talk. You get to feel."

His jaw clenched.

She rode him like that. Fast, then slow, then fast again, never letting him settle into a predictable rhythm. Until the pressure in his groin became something unbearable. Not the countdown from before. This was different. This was a tide rising without permission, a swelling that had no peak, just an endless upward trajectory that made his thighs tremble and his toes curl.

"I’m..." he started.

"I know." She didn’t slow. "Whenever you’re ready, Daddy."

The permission undid him.

His orgasm ripped through him in a series of contractions that felt like they were pulling something essential out of his body. He shouted, the sound muffled by his own bitten lip, and felt the condom fill as she continued to move, milking every last pulse from him with short, grinding strokes.

Silence.

Just their breathing.

Then the whisper of silk as she lifted the blindfold away.

Xavier blinked in the amber light. Destiny’s face hovered above his, flushed and gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat. Her smile was different now. Less theatrical, more genuinely pleased. She dismounted with care, and he winced at the sensitivity, and she peeled the filled condom away, knotting it and dropping it into a small waste bin beside the bed.

"Stay," she said, as though he had a choice with his wrists still bound.

She crossed to a cabinet he hadn’t noticed before. The view from behind was spectacular. The sway of her hips, the muscular definition in her thighs, the dimples above her ass that appeared and disappeared with each step. She returned with something that clinked.

Chain.

Smooth, nickel-plated links catching the lamplight. She had already replaced the silk restraints at his wrists with leather cuffs. He hadn’t even noticed her doing it, too dazed in the aftermath and now she clipped the chain to the D-rings, then to anchor points on the bedframe he couldn’t see from this angle.

His arms were no longer above his head. She repositioned them, spread-eagle, the chain allowing just enough slack for his elbows to bend slightly but not enough to touch her.

"There," she murmured, stepping back to admire her work. "That’s better."

The mattress dipped as she climbed back onto it. She knelt between his spread thighs, running her palms up his legs from knee to groin, thumbs pressing into the muscle. Her touch was proprietary. Assessing.

Her eyes dropped to his cock. Soft now, resting against his thigh, glistening with the residual moisture from the condom.

"We’re not done," she said.

"I need a minute...."

"You’ll take what I give you." Her fingers wrapped around him, not stroking, just holding. Gentle. Patient. "And you’ll get hard again. Because your body knows who’s in charge even if your mouth forgets."

Heat flooded his face.