Page 36

S arah

I’m naked.

Boyd even removed my earrings, and the knotted bracelet Lea gave me when we were in high school.

Now I’m on my knees, blindfolded, with my face pressed against Boyd’s massive bed and my ass raised high in the air.

There are leather cuffs on my wrists, and my arms are stretched forward.

I assume the other end of the rope is tied to the headboard.

A second set of cuffs is around my ankles, and while they’re not stretched as tight as my arms, I can’t move much.

I’m putting a lot of trust in Boyd, but he hasn’t given me a reason not to. Just more reason to keep trusting him. To keep getting wrapped up in him. To keep… falling. Further and further. So close to those three words that I’m scared I might say them too soon.

“Are you ready for your spanking?” Boyd asks, rubbing my ass with his hand.

“Not really,” I murmur. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s why you’re not going to hate this one,” he chuckles. “Not that you hated the other ones that much, either. You get too wet to hate it.”

“Still hurts,” I whine, squirming nervously when he pulls his hand away.

Something with a point touches my inner thigh. I flinch and jerk, but it moves against my skin. It feels like leather. Harder and stiffer than the cuffs. It disappears and a second later, it stings my inner thigh when it lands there with an audible smack. I kick my feet and whimper.

“What was that?” I groan.

“What did it feel like?” he asks.

“Too small to be a paddle,” I whisper, then it lands on the back of my other thigh. “I don’t know…”

“It’s a riding crop,” he announces, dragging the tip up and down my inner thighs before slapping it against my ass. “And if you really want to know, it’s got a star-shaped tip, because that’s the only one they had.”

“Oh, that’s what was poking me,” I giggle, then get a harder slap from the crop that makes my giggle die out. “Ow!”

Boyd continues to tease and smack me with the crop. He focuses on my ass and the back of my thighs when he spanks me, but the tip teases my inner thighs more than anywhere else, and I get the occasional smack there as well.

Then he drags the crop higher, teasing my folds, parting them, and pressing the tip to my clit.

I whimper and squirm, especially when he rotates the crop, making the tip move around my clit in a circular motion.

I get into it, moving in unison with the crop, panting, and letting out a series of soft moans before he pulls the crop away and it lands on my folds with a loud pop.

“Hey!” I squeal, kicking my feet.

Boyd caresses the spot where the crop landed, and I whimper as the sting dissipates. But that doesn’t stop him from doing it again, after he teases me a little more. The more he teases me, the wetter I get, and I can feel the arousal on my inner thighs.

Then I find out that the crop isn’t the only new toy he has to try on me. There’s also a feather that nearly drives me mad when he drags it along my skin. A wooden paddle that stings a lot more than the riding crop. And something that makes his finger vibrate when he toys with my pussy.

But he doesn’t rush things. He makes good on his promise to spank and torment me. I’m breathless, begging for a release, and a whimpering mess with my inner thighs coated in my essence before I even hear him start to undress.

If I didn’t have this blindfold on, the only thing I’d be able to see is a blur. I’m so needy and turned on it feels like I might orgasm the next time I feel the heat from his skin, even if he doesn’t touch me.

But I don’t have to worry about that. His weight shifts the bed, his hands spread my thighs wider, and I feel his cock between my legs.

“I need permission to come before you… keep going,” I whimper. “Seriously, I’m not going to last. There’s no way.”

Boyd reaches down and rubs a finger through my slickness, then adjusts his cock so that he’s pressing on my entrance. “I should torment you a little longer. Make you really beg,” he growls, pushing into me. “But I won’t do that tonight. You can come, Sarah. Be as needy as you want.”

“Thank you,” I whimper, gasping as he goes deep.

The mountain of a man moves with purpose, filling me with one slow, powerful thrust that forces a moan from my lips.

My wrists strain against the cuffs as my back arches.

I need him. Crave more than just the rhythm of his hips.

I need the connection. The weight of him.

The sound of his voice. The way his roughness resonates, while being paired something slightly gentler just beneath the surface.

My core clenches as I feel him begin to move.

He’s merciless and patient all at once, grinding deep before pulling back, dragging every inch of tension out of me.

Like I’m his. Because I am. I’ve given him everything except my heart and those three words I’m scared to say too soon, but he’ll claim those.

I know he will. My fate was sealed the moment Massimo turned me over to Big Mafia Boyd.

“Oh, sweet mercy,” I groan, feeling the pressure build as fast I expected. Then I come hard, before I can say anything else. “Fuck!”

“I love the way your body responds to me,” Boyd hisses, driving his cock into my quivering pussy while I climax. “Every single time.”

“Y-yes,” I whimper, my breathing causing me to stammer my words. “I-I’m yours…”

“Tonight, tomorrow. Every single fucking day,” he murmurs, plowing into me with harder thrusts once my orgasm peaks.

I gasp something that sounds like his name.

Or maybe it’s just a plea for more. Boyd keeps going, not slowing down at all, even when the orgasm finally fades.

The pleasure continues to curl through me in waves, sharper and stronger with every hard thrust. Deep, powerful, and they make my g-spot hum as another torrent of pleasure tightens everything inside me.

My legs twitch and breathing gets more ragged.

I writhe, pulling at the restraints on my wrists and ankles, but I’m not trying to get away.

I’m just trying to ground myself before I get overwhelmed with another cascade of bliss.

“You’re going to come for me again,” Boyd rasps, kissing the back of my neck and squeezing my hips. “I can feel it.”

“Yes!” I cry out, my body shaking with a release that makes my knees weak.

“I promised I was going to fuck you hard,” Boyd growls, his length slamming into me while I orgasm. “I meant that.”

My body clenches around him, a fresh wave of heat crashing over me as I shatter into my climax. I cry out—loud. Boyd doesn’t stop. He keeps hammering his cock into me. I’m not sure if he’s just chasing his release now or desperate for another one of mine.

His bed is a lot sturdier than the ones at Salvalagio.

The one he broke, at least. He slams into me so hard we’d be amongst splinters if we were in the only one left standing in my room.

His doesn’t even move. It doesn’t even creak.

Is this why he wanted me in his bed tonight?

So he could show me what it really means to get fucked hard?

“Boyd! Oh, fuck! Big Boyd!” I scream, my eyes rolling back in my head as another burst of pleasure erupts inside me.

“I knew you would love getting fucked like this,” he gloats, pulling my hair and furiously pounding his dick into my pussy. “Admit it.”

“I love it!” I gasp, not even thinking about my words, but they’re the truest ones I’ve ever said. “Oh, sweet mercy, I love it!”

Boyd’s hips rock faster until I feel him tense.

His breath stutters out in a groan and his pace falters.

I feel the full force of his pleasure, throbbing inside me.

His hands tighten their grip. My hair strains against the roots.

My hip feels like I already have a bruise.

But I don’t care. I need to feel his pleasure until there’s nothing left.

“Sarah! Oh, god!” he roars, viciously driving his pulsating length into me as I feel the warmth of his release.

I push back, and another orgasm consumes what is left of my strength while he fills me with his hot seed. He holds me steady, but I go limp once we’re both spent, the afterglow of our shared euphoria making me tingle from head to toe.

Boyd leans forward, releasing the grip, and letting me sink into the mattress.

He places a soft kiss on my back. Another on my shoulder.

Then he tugs the blindfold until it falls away from my face.

I blink into the dim lighting, a couple of tears rolling down my cheeks.

Not from pain. Just pleasure so incredible it made my eyes water.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently, removing the cuffs from my wrists.

I nod, still breathless, but I find my words. “Better than okay, Boyd. That was… amazing.”

He massages my wrists where the restraints have left faint red lines from my writhing.

Then he slides his hands down my body and removes the cuffs holding my ankles.

I stretch out, but then he gathers me in his arms and pulls the sheets over us.

I snuggle into his chest, feeling content, safe, and still tingling with the aftershocks of bliss.

This is the only place I want to be.

I wake up the next morning, and there’s a moment of panic due to my unfamiliar surroundings. Then I feel Boyd’s warmth. His big, powerful arm, still wrapped around me. I smile, relax, and lean against his thick chest, tracing a scar that blends into his ink.

It’s so peaceful here. Extremely quiet. I rarely get moments like this at Salvalagio. There are too many guests. People arriving and leaving at all hours. Some celebrating their winnings. Others trying to get out of Las Vegas with what they have left. It doesn’t even feel like Las Vegas here.

Not until I pry myself out of Boyd’s arms, at least. Then I see the city, beautifully framed in every floor-to-ceiling window, like dozens of postcards. I exhale sharply, reach for my vape, and take a puff before I get out of bed.