Night Owl

"Baby, it's—"



"Shhh." Hannah stilled my lips with a clean finger.



She climbed over me and positioned my sex. My slick tip slid along her crack, stopping in the dimple of her anus. I flexed my thighs, trying to push my cock up toward Hannah's pussy, but she held it steady against the puckered entrance of her ass.



"Happy birthday, lover," she whispered. She began to lower herself. I felt my cockhead spreading an improbably tight ring of muscle. I tensed from head to toe.



"What—what are you doing?"



The reply from Hannah was a long, low moan. I trembled in my restraints. My god... she was going to take me into her ass.



"Oh, fuck," I grunted. My breaths grew shallow. "Oh... oh..."



All at once, my head popped into Hannah's ass. She cried out—and I cried out, thrashing helplessly. It felt so good, it almost hurt. My heart drummed in my chest.



"More," I pleaded.



"More of what?" Hannah said, her voice strained but even. "Tell me. Tell me everything. Never deny me, Matt."



Never deny me.



I said those words to Hannah months ago.



"Your ass," I growled. "Mm... Hannah, get on my dick."



"God, Matt..."



Hannah lowered herself inch by agonizing inch. I could do nothing but wait—and as I waited, I felt my tongue loosening. I couldn't deny the incredible eroticism of the moment: Hannah making me fuck her ass for the first time, my strong body helpless.



"Fuck, god, your ass," I moaned. "Your tight ass, you want my cock inside of it Hannah?"



"Yes," she breathed.



At last, Hannah sat on my groin, my dick deep inside of her.



"Comfortable?" I gasped. "God, Hannah, my beautiful slut..."



"So full..."



"That's r-right," I growled. "Now ride my dick."



Trying to call the shots while bound should have been an exercise in frustration, but Hannah obeyed me. She loved to obey me. And I loved to call the shots.



She began to bounce on my cock, the tight grip of her ass stroking me hard.



"Fuck!" I writhed. I wanted to squeeze her tits. I wanted to spank her ass.



Lube squelched in the silence and Hannah's cheeks slapped at my thighs.



"Faster, fuck," I panted. "Nn... make me come. Listen to your ass Hannah, fuck..."



"Oh god, oh god..." Hannah's pace became frenzied. I jerked in my bonds. She reached behind her cleft and cupped my balls, fondling them. I gasped as jets of cum shot from me.



"Hannah, I'm coming!" I moaned. "God, Hannah—"



Hannah's bottom milked out the last of my desire. I began to struggle at once, baring my teeth like an animal. So help me god, I would tear these silly cords.



"Untie me... now," I growled.



CHAPTER 30



Hannah



I BOUND MY broken, beautiful Matt, so sad and silent.



I unbound my tiger.



When I slid the blindfold off his head, his eyes were electric. A frisson of fear passed through me. Fuck, was he angry?



"H-happy birthday," I mumbled again, my hands trembling as I untied his ankles. Ankles first, hands last. I wondered if I should flee to the bathroom.



Matt said nothing. He watched me with his smoldering stare. As I freed his feet, he flexed his legs and dug his heels into the bed.



For months, I longed to see this very heat in Matt's eyes... the dangerous unpredictability I loved. But now? Now I felt the double edge of it—the fear that was so real and exciting.



"I... I've been... planning that for a while," I said. I massaged Matt's ankles, delaying untying his wrists. "I hope... that was okay."



God, Matt looked exquisite. My eyes trailed over his body. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths; his lean arms were taut with muscle. I wanted to ride him again, and again and again. I wanted to flick my tongue over his deliciously sensitive nipples. I knew that drove him crazy. I knew it made him hard.



"Wow, I... made a mess, huh?" I glanced at the lube coating Matt's groin. My backside mustn't have looked much better. "Maybe... I'll grab a washcloth real quick."



"Hannah." Matt's voice was low with menace.



"Oh right, sorry..." I crawled toward the headboard. Every manner of irrational fear came to me as I untied Matt's hands. Was this off limits, binding Matt? Fuck, why hadn't I asked? Was he going to get up and walk out?



I got one of his hands untied. I half expected him to grab me by the throat, but he only rolled his wrist.



"Last one..." I loosed Matt's other hand.



He sat up in a flash. Steely arms hauled me onto his lap.



"Hannah," Matt snarled into my ear. He plunged two fingers into my ass and I yelped. I tried to wriggle off his hand, but Matt pinned me in place. "You must be very pleased with yourself. Do you like it, having my cum in your ass?"



His long fingers stirred and I squeaked. Matt was right; I was proud of myself for taking him like that—and I was also sore.



"Can't hear you, darling. You need a third finger in this very capable ass of yours?"



"No!" I panted. "Er, yes! I mean—"



Matt trembled with laughter. God... there it was, the breathless, cynical laughter that made my insides melt.



"No what, Hannah? Yes what?" Matt poised a third finger against my ass.



"No... no more, please. I... yes, I—" I warmed. "I like... having your cum in my ass."



"Ah god, Hannah." Matt eased his fingers out of me. He began to stroke the curve of my bottom. Reflexively, I pushed it out for his touch.



Everything was different. Everything. The way he caressed me—so possessively, with such satisfaction—and his voice in my ear, exultant with power.



My heart thrilled. My eyes watered. He was back, god, he was back.



"Such a sweet ass," Matt sighed, squeezing my rump. "You're a good girl, Hannah, so good to take my whole cock. Were you scared?"



"Yes." I hid my sheepish smile against his neck.



"Mm, I bet. You did well. You made me come hard. Are you ready to help me again?"



Again?



Before I knew what was happening, Matt banded the blindfold across my eyes. He jerked my hands behind my back and bound them together. Disoriented, I tumbled from his lap.



I lay in a painful, awkward position on the mattress as he began to pull on my nipples.



"God! Matt!"



The store of darker desires, which Matt had suppressed for months, seemed to break over me all at once. He was hasty and starved. There was no logic to his motions.



He twisted and tugged on my nipples, pressed his fingers into my mouth, slapped and squeezed my breasts. I squirmed on the sheets and moaned, my arousal spiraling upward.



"Yeah?" Matt laughed. "How is this, Hannah? Just right?"



He pried my legs apart and slapped my sex. Fuck! The sting of pleasure echoed through me. He bit on my clit. He dragged me off the bed.



On my feet suddenly, I swayed against Matt.



"Matt," I panted. "Where—" Where are we going? The words died on my lips as Matt pushed me forward. He guided me out of the bedroom.



For a split second, I envisioned Matt fucking me on the balcony. No way! But he turned me into a room that smelled of old books.



Ah, my lover's writing room, where he was doing zero writing.



I heard a whoosh of papers. Matt forced me forward. Cool, smooth wood pressed into my breasts. I was bent over Matt's desk.



"Stay put," he murmured. Matt padded away and left me with my pumping heart. Every part of me loved this—the waiting, the exposure, the pain and degradation—and I never stopped to ask why. I knew better. Desire is arcane.



Matt's footfalls returned, moving up the hall. I felt his presence when he entered the room. The air stirred. Papers whispered against the floor.



Without hesitation, he gripped my hip and a hard strap hit my ass.



"Fuck!" I cried, jerking violently. "Matt!"



I scrabbled to get away. The leathery band came down again, cracking against my skin.



Holy fuck, Matt was spanking me with a belt. I couldn't process the pain fast enough to feel the pleasure.



"You've needed this for a while," he growled. "I won't stop until you stay still and take it. Yield to it, Hannah—you love it. You're dripping wet."



To my total mortification, I realized Matt was right. Desire oozed from my sex.



God, but it hurt! My breasts were smashed against the desk; my ass was burning. I gulped in a few breaths and willed my body to stillness.



Yield to it. Stay still and take it.



I could do this.



"God, baby," Matt moaned.



I went limp. I sagged against the desk and let the belt's blows come down in that merciless rhythm. My pussy throbbed and I felt a string of wetness sticking to my thigh.



"Oh, Hannah... fuck, fuck."



I heard Matt unraveling as I lay there. God, he adored this. Bolstered by his approval, I began to moan and spread my legs.



"Uhn! More,"I panted.



"Hannah, god damn," he hissed. "God you're good, you're so good."



The numbing lashes of the belt ceased. In the same second, Matt's cock filled me. I knew what he wanted and I gave it to him. I lay motionless over the desk, taking it.



Matt found my clit and rubbed it furiously as he fucked me. He took me to the edge of ecstasy. No, he forced me to the edge. And when he drove me over it, I screamed his name.



Matt exploded into my spasming body.



Afterward, we stumbled into the shower. I was dazed and flushed from head to toe, and Matt was grinning like the Cheshire cat.



Best sex of my life: bent over a desk and belted. Who would have thought?



As we showered and toweled off, Matt's emerald eyes followed me. He made me conscious of my every motion. My tiger... always watching me.



When I went to pull on a pair of yoga pants, Matt smirked and shook his head.



"This," he said, handing me a tiny ivory babydoll that barely covered my ass. "For the rest of the day."



My blushed turned up a notch.



Matt dressed in a pair of pale lounge pants. We sat on the couch eating cupcakes and laughing. He couldn't believe my gall, he said. He meant my birthday present.



"Hey, neither can I!" I dabbed frosting on his nose. His eyes darkened. Oh damn, I loved that look on his face...



Around dinnertime, Matt disappeared into the office.



When I went to see what he was doing, I found the door closed.



Hmph.



I sulked for a while, sitting in the main room and petting Laurence.



I didn't know that I had just met my writer.



In the following days, I met the damn writer again and again. Matt seemed himself, the sex was amazing, but he grew restless when I melted into my afterglow.



"Going to check on something," he'd say, or, "I'll be right back."



When I went looking for him an hour later, I invariably found the shut office door. Sometimes I heard him pacing, but mostly he was silent.



My cooking occasionally lured him out.



I would turn from the stove and bump into a looming Matt—jump—and then laugh helplessly. God, he was adorable.



"I smelled something," he'd say, brushing past me to poke around.



I had him for ten minutes as he wolfed down dinner, then I lost him to his prose.



While Matt wrote, I spent my own time reading and working on yoga. I came to look forward to those private hours. Time together and time apart, didn't every relationship need both?