Rory twisted away from him as much as she could, protecting herself. "No," she murmured through her hair, but she didn't use the safe word. Jess looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He saw on her face that, by her choice, he was still her captor—not merely Jess, the man who loved her. With care, he took notice that her hands did not look discoloured. He placed a firm hand on her hipbone and rolled her once more onto her back.

He slid that hand down along Rory's thigh and pressed just above her knee. He placed his other forearm against her stomach, keeping as much of his weight on his own knees as possible, and with this hand he drew apart the strands of her hair. Again came the thoughts, the salivation, the race of his pulse. Pink… and succulent… and wet…

Jess groaned with honest desire.

She murmured again and lifted her knee, which he pushed back down.

And then he pressed his tongue to her, letting her feel his warmth.

Jess liked that first motion, letting him know it was cool to go down—that first motion where she gyrated with her hips and pressed into his ministrations. He loved the moaning and grinding and going wild on his face as he licked and suckled. He loved when her body rollicked and shuddered and became putty in his hands. Jess loved knowing he was the cause. He revelled in Rory being excited because of him.

That was why he really preferred more equal roles. Today, Rory writhed with slightly different motions, murmured different sounds.

But, of course, this was Rory. And if she liked it like this once in a while, well, there was no way he'd deny her. She said he played the game so well. She'd said something about the smouldering of his eyes, the expressiveness of his lips, the firmness of his hand. She'd said something about her town thinking such a good girl should always be protected from the likes of him. (She'd said that with irony and he hadn't been offended.) And she'd described all of it with such desire in her eyes. There was no way he'd deny her.

Of course he got a lot out of this as well. She was, after all, like putty in his hands.

Today, he didn't wait for that first motion.

He flicked his tongue boldly. It graced laterally across her, back then forth. She bucked and it was almost as good as a grind. He held her tight and continued with his tongue bath, until the sounds she was making became more familiar and more favourable. Since she was his, he dared release his grip to instead prop her up. His heart—no his entire chest—was pounding, as his blissful tongue manipulated the darling bud and he heard her laboured breathing and beautiful chirps. He felt the heat of his own rapid breath swirl against her and the thoughts continued. A silken texture, plump and juicy…

He had to admit, he was enjoying himself. Rather, enjoying her.

And then he nestled deeper and it was all he'd hoped it would be. She pressed herself to him, in that most exquisite of gestures. He continued his manipulations with a temperate finger as her skin caressed his tongue—and caressed him—into a state of glory. Silky indeed… and oh so succulent.

With a head foggy with desire and satisfaction, he drew his tongue away and focussed his lips once more. He slid his palm along the inner curve of her thigh and prepared for a new course.

"Mmmm," he murmured against the nub, as his finger met a satiny purse. And then he used his tongue again until she submitted fully, to him, and to herself. He loved to do that for her, thinking again how amazing it was that he could. He moaned along with her, a harmony some octaves apart, as at first her body stretched taut but then ebbed in concert with the pulse of his lingering tongue.

Jess took a deep, shuddering breath. With a gaze at her face, to make sure she was still with him, he pushed off against the bed and raised his torso tall and straight over his knees, his buttocks off of his heels. He was glad to see the desire he felt mirrored on her own face. He had been throbbing for quite some time now.

He wouldn't keep her long, seeing as how she was tied.

He fixed her with his most menacing gaze of lust. He spread his knees further apart and arched his back to bring himself closer to her. With three fingers at the base of the shaft, he tapped her stomach twice. His skin hit hers authoritatively, yielding a splendid patting-sound of supple yet solid.

"A man has needs."

Her eyes opened wide.

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