Her fingers raked his chest, nails scratching as her hips smacked down, wetness slick and slick again, the slap louder, more urgent, a rhythm of possession and hunger. Each time she slammed into him, a wet smack followed, punctuated by their breathy moans and sharp cries.
Her moans grew louder, uncontrolled.
""Ahhhnn—haaah—yes… yesyesyes—gods—p-please… just… a little more…"
That one broke her. Head back, lips parted, a sharp, unfiltered cry that echoed in the quiet chamber.
"AAAHHH—!"
Her back arched, her hands on his chest, gripping hard, pulling her flush against him. She could feel him, body pressed against her lower back
Her legs nearly gave out, but she stood firm.
She was chasing her high, not his. Riding to her own climax.
And he was just the saddle.
She moved slowly, one leg gliding over him, not to face him this time… but to sit across him.
Side saddle.
Her weight settled on his hips like velvet and steel.
One leg *tucked under her, the other draped lazily across his thigh—her torso twisting just enough for her to glance down at him over her shoulder.
Effortless. Smirking. Fucking devastating.
He tried to move, anything, but he was tied and wrecked and completely at her mercy.
She didn't ride hard in this position.
She didn't need to.
She rocked, grinding at an angle that made his mouth fall open, made his hips jerk up desperately, made his whole body ache from trying to thrust into her from a position he couldn't control.
She slowed, cruelly slow, and turned again, facing him once more.
This time, she leaned all the way down, pressing her chest against his, bracing her arms just above his shoulders, and whispering directly into his mouth.
"You're so close, aren't you?"
Then she grinded down, hips rolling in tight, deep circles, her whole body moving like a single wave of pleasure and possession.
Each grind made him whimper.
Each moan she gave made him pull against the cuffs.
He was shaking. Whining. Breaking.
She was already breathless, already shaking, but she didn't stop—
Her hips crashed down one last time—
SMACK.
Deep.
All. The. Way.
And then she broke.
A ragged cry ripped from her throat—*"Aahhh—fuck—yes—!"
Her body clenched, back arched, thighs locking around him as the orgasm hit violently, completely, final.
He felt it in waves—the pulsing grip of her release, the wet, messy slap of her collapse as her rhythm unraveled into jerking, breathless spasms.
Her fingers clawed at his chest before going limp.
A string of breathy, helpless moans spilled from her lips—less words, more feeling. Pure release.
Then she just fell forward.
Slammed down on top of him like gravity finally won.
Her skin stuck to his from the sweat and slick, her chest rising and falling against his in wild, uneven bursts. Her cheek pressed into the side of his neck, lips barely parted, eyelashes fluttering.
"Gods," she whispered, voice hoarse and wrecked. "I can't move…"
He didn't answer.
She closed her eyes, tipping her head to the sky once more—breathing not like someone who had finished a performance.
but like someone who had claimed something.
And through it all, that same slow-burning smile remained.
At that moment, she wasn't just sensual or graceful.
She was mythic.