Bad

Markus moves to fire her, but Ivy pushes back with the dirt she’s holding. She thinks she’s got him by the throat. He just laughs once, low and cold. “I am expected to be bad,” he tells her. “When you are bad, everything crumbles.” She freezes, the smirk slipping for a second, and the air thickens. Ivy is the brunette with the bite, the one who talks like she can break a man in two. Markus, hands already working her wrists behind her back, cinches the rope tight. She spits a curse that turns into a moan when he stuffs her mouth with his cock and drives in deep. Tears streak down her face, but her throat works him anyway, greedy and wet. He drags her around, bends her over, and starts working open the hole she never meant to give up. Ivy bucks, curses, and comes anyway, strung out and shaking. Markus keeps her bound, keeps her full, until the only thing left is the sound of skin on skin and the wet slap of his hips. When he finally pulls out and paints her ass with thick streaks, she is still tied, still breathing hard, still ruined in the best way. Both of them knew the second the rope touched skin that they’d rather fall than walk away.