Mark Woods watches from the shadows, his breath steady despite the heat building in the room. She kneels before him with nothing on but the silk cord wrapped around her wrists. Her skin glows under the low lamp. He steps forward and tilts her chin up with two fingers. Their eyes lock. No words pass between them. She leans in, lips parting, and takes him into her mouth. Her tongue moves slow, deliberate, tasting every inch. Mark's fingers tighten in her hair. He guides her deeper. She moans around him, the sound wet and warm. Spit gathers at the corners of her lips and trails down her chin. She keeps her hands bound behind her back, body swaying with each thrust of his hips. Her breasts brush his thighs. Every few strokes, she pulls back to catch her breath, saliva connecting her lower lip to the tip of his cock before she takes him again. Mark watches her throat work as she swallows him deeper. The cord around her wrists creaks when she tugs against it. Her knees shift on the hardwood. Sweat gathers between her shoulder blades. He pulls her off, strings of spit stretching between them, and tells her to stand. She rises on unsteady legs. He spins her around and bends her over the edge of the bed, one hand pressing her shoulders down. With the other he parts her thighs. She is dripping. He runs two fingers through her folds, then slides them inside. She gasps and pushes back against his hand. He fucks her slow with his fingers, curling them each time he pulls out. Her hips roll with him. She bites the sheet to stay quiet. Mark withdraws his fingers, lines himself up, and pushes inside her in one steady thrust. She cries out, the sound muffled by the linen. He grips her hips and starts to move, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. The wet sound of skin meeting skin fills the room. Sweat rolls down his spine. Her bound hands flex against the small of her back. He leans over her, chest to her shoulder blades, and bites the curve of her neck. She shudders. He reaches around and rubs her clit in tight circles while he keeps fucking her, never slowing, never easing up. Her thighs tremble. She comes with a broken moan, clenching around him hard enough to make him curse under his breath. He fucks her through it, pace turning ragged. When he pulls out, he strokes himself twice and finishes across her lower back, hot streaks marking her skin. The room smells like sex and sweat. Neither of them speaks. Mark unties her wrists, rubs the red lines with his thumbs, then presses a kiss to the nape of her neck.
Mark Woods watches from the shadows, his breath steady despite the heat building in the room. She kneels before him with nothing on but the silk cord wrapped around her wrists. Her skin glows under the low lamp. He steps forward and tilts her chin up with two fingers. Their eyes lock. No words pass between them. She leans in, lips parting, and takes him into her mouth. Her tongue moves slow, deliberate, tasting every inch. Mark's fingers tighten in her hair. He guides her deeper. She moans around him, the sound wet and warm. Spit gathers at the corners of her lips and trails down her chin. She keeps her hands bound behind her back, body swaying with each thrust of his hips. Her breasts brush his thighs. Every few strokes, she pulls back to catch her breath, saliva connecting her lower lip to the tip of his cock before she takes him again. Mark watches her throat work as she swallows him deeper. The cord around her wrists creaks when she tugs against it. Her knees shift on the hardwood. Sweat gathers between her shoulder blades. He pulls her off, strings of spit stretching between them, and tells her to stand. She rises on unsteady legs. He spins her around and bends her over the edge of the bed, one hand pressing her shoulders down. With the other he parts her thighs. She is dripping. He runs two fingers through her folds, then slides them inside. She gasps and pushes back against his hand. He fucks her slow with his fingers, curling them each time he pulls out. Her hips roll with him. She bites the sheet to stay quiet. Mark withdraws his fingers, lines himself up, and pushes inside her in one steady thrust. She cries out, the sound muffled by the linen. He grips her hips and starts to move, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. The wet sound of skin meeting skin fills the room. Sweat rolls down his spine. Her bound hands flex against the small of her back. He leans over her, chest to her shoulder blades, and bites the curve of her neck. She shudders. He reaches around and rubs her clit in tight circles while he keeps fucking her, never slowing, never easing up. Her thighs tremble. She comes with a broken moan, clenching around him hard enough to make him curse under his breath. He fucks her through it, pace turning ragged. When he pulls out, he strokes himself twice and finishes across her lower back, hot streaks marking her skin. The room smells like sex and sweat. Neither of them speaks. Mark unties her wrists, rubs the red lines with his thumbs, then presses a kiss to the nape of her neck.
