Pain

Addie Andrews lies on Mick Blue’s exam table, knee scraped raw from the fall. He presses the bruise, she winces but doesn’t pull away. The silence stretches until he grins and she grins back. Pain sits between them like a third person, and both like its company. Mick ties her wrists to the rail with a torn sheet. She stays still, bush already dark against pale skin. He drops between her thighs and licks once, slow, testing. Her hiss turns to a low moan when he sucks harder. She lifts her hips, chasing the sting. He stands, cock thick in his fist, feeds it to her mouth while the knot bites her wrists. Blonde hair spills across the leather. Spit runs down her chin, breath sharp through her nose. Mick pulls out, spins her to the edge, pushes inside without warning. Addie bites her own shoulder to keep quiet. He keeps the rhythm hard, each stroke pulling the rope tighter. When she comes her whole body jerks, and he follows, pulling out to paint her stomach in thick ropes. Pain and pleasure trade places until the room smells like sweat and sex.