Malcolm returns to the bedroom in what feels like hours later. I’m naked, cold and horny as hell. The loss of my vision and my inability to move play tricks on my awareness. I may have dozed off too, given that I was too terrified to close my eyes in my jail cell last night.

These blindfolds let in just enough light for me to discern shapes and shadows nearby. My hearing and sense of smell are also intensified. I don’t have to guess where he is in the room, and when he walks over to the bed and lowers his head to mine, I can tell his breathing is different.

“What took you so long?” I ask, not even caring how weak I must sound to him.

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, and begins to undress.

I want the blindfold off so I can at least see what I’m dealing with. Sure, I went down on him the other night, but I would like to take in the entire head to toe package that is Malcolm Alexander.

I feel the scorching heat of his skin moments before his naked, ripped, muscular body straddles me, and lowers on my hips and upper legs.

He leans forward. My stomach flutters from the feel of his rigid length so close to my core.

“Are you ready for me?” he whispers into my ear, causing me to swallow hard.

He doesn’t move his lips from their spot. They’re less than an inch from my ear, hovering, kicking off a reaction all through my body. I can’t answer. I just can’t. I’m not supposed to be ready. He puts his hand through my hair and begins to nibble on my ear lobes. My body has a mind of its own. I’m soaking wet between my legs from this proximity, and from his throbbing cock that presses against my belly. I want to curl my arms and legs around him, but I can barely lift my head, let alone move.

I gasp when he grips the hair at the back of my head into his fist. “What the fuck was that for?” I demand.

“I want an answer, Riley. Are you ready for me or not?”

I shudder. He’s daring me. I can’t say no, even if I wanted to. I don’t want to say yes, because no man deserves to have that power over me, especially not this particular man. Still, the fact that he wants to know leads me to believe my answer somehow matters to him. In the midst of all this rationalization, his grip on my hair tightens some more.

“Yes!” I blurt out.

“Yes, and?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

“Yes, I’m ready and?” With each question, his fist tightens some more.

“I don’t know what you’re asking of me,” I admit, eyes snapped shut from the pain he causes on my scalp.

“I want you to call my name. Every time you speak to me or answer me. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Malcolm,” I mumble through clenched teeth.

“Good.” He releases my hair and runs a scorching hot finger down my stomach, stopping only when it reaches my clit. “You’re wet as fuck. Tell me, who’s turning you on right now, Riley?”

“You are, Malcolm,” I whisper, half-whimpering from his skilled touch along my folds.

I don’t mean it this time. Not in the way he wants me to. Christ, are all arrogant billionaires with massive dicks this needy for validation? I want to tell him I’m turning myself on, but I’d be lying. Of course, he’s turning me on right now. His hand is massaging my pussy, he’s a smoking hot man, and his massive cock is rubbing against my stomach. Something would have to be wrong with me to not be turned on right now. Never mind that I enjoy sex the way some people like coffee—dark, bold, hot, and able to keep me up for hours. A day or two of submission to this man only has more meaning because of who he is. The ropes around my ankles may be a bit much, but even that I don’t mind. A part of me wants to see this game through, and my being mouthy or resistant will only prolong it.

Going down against a wall.

Malcolm’s weight shifts. He’s moving down the bed. The feel of his hot breath as it travels down my stomach takes my mind off its current track. My toes curl from the mental image of his lips trailing along my skin, and when his tongue flattens to my clit, I purr out a whimper and tilt my head up. My knees turn outward as Malcolm grips my inner thighs. Overcome with a primal need to run my hands through his hair and grind on his face, I wrench my hands upward, forgetting about the ropes around my wrists. The movement jerks the headboard. He stops. That’s not the response I expect. It’s more contact that I need, not less.

He groans out a laugh, and just as I’m about to tell him none of this is funny, his lips and tongue and teeth make contact with my pussy, all at the same time. Malcolm brutally devours me. He sucks my clit, dipping his tongue past my folds into my soaking wet center. He groans and grunts as he feasts on me, awakening my core, building my need and pleasure to a level that drives me wild. I can’t stop my legs from shaking or my hips from bucking and rolling. He grasps my hips and pulls me harder to his mouth. I lose all control. A wave of heat, pleasure and sparks burst out from my core, taking me under and pelting me straight to my climax. The pulsing at my inner walls makes me desperate to be filled.

Malcolm continues to consume my clit, and when he sinks two fingers inside me, my orgasm expands and takes over my entire body. I’m suddenly turned into a quaking, near-screaming mass of nerves that can no longer think. I rock and ride his fingers and mouth as he pounds into me hard. His fingers curl up and lash my G-spot with every thrust. God, I want to scream, to call out his name and revel in the moment, but I’m holding back. Even now as my climax takes me to that timeless, blissful destination, a little voice keeps telling me not to enjoy myself too much. It’s wrong to give him that kind of satisfaction when I’m not here completely of my own volition.

He pulls apart from me. I already miss his hot tongue and deft fingers when the crinkle of a condom gets a sliver of my attention. I barely get a breath in. Malcolm’s hands slip under my ass and in the next instant he buries his thick, throbbing cock all the way to the root. The groan he lets out as he fills me makes my skin crave him. I want him to kiss my neck, suck my breasts, or claim my mouth while he drills in and out of me.

He changes the angle by gripping my waist, picking up speed. The sound of his balls slapping my ass each time he pumps into me is so wild and raw, I can’t ignore the sound or the way it seems to make my inner walls tense each time they hit the same spot. Pretty soon, the rush of another peak is in sight, and again, my hands jerk upward in its attempt to hold onto something as I fly into nirvana.

Malcolm is not far behind me. He rolls and thrusts his hips wildly until his body stiffens, and the heat of his eruption warms my womb as he comes hard. Our breaths are ragged now. Our movements are still rhythmic as we slow down and finally rest.

His chest relaxes onto mine. Our foreheads touch. I don’t have the will to tell him I still want more. All of a sudden, he removes my blindfold. Our eyes lock. I should be embarrassed, enraged, or at least self-conscious. I’m not. It’s not just the post-climactic bliss, and to be honest, I’m not sure I want to define it. All I know for certain is that I feel…good.