The influx of his emotions robbed Summer of words. Her own eyes black with lust, she buried her fingers in his hair and pulled his head up to lick at the place the blood had escaped his mouth. The lick turned into a kiss, the kiss turned into a nip, and then she took a deep breath.
Eyelashes that had flown wide with shock when he’d moved her to the bed were at half-mast again, and she contemplated him from underneath them. It took a few more breaths before she found words again, and even then they were few. “Pin my hands. Make me squirm.”
Without any hesitation Victor gathered her wrists into his hand and pinned them above her head, whilst simultaneously grinding their hips together. “My pleasure,” he whispered next to her ear and then moved so that he had room before slipping his hand down to her pussy. Slowly, he thrust into her with his finger, adding a second digit and kissing her lips roughly. His thumb found her clit and began rubbing soft and slow circles over it, around it and alternating his pressure.
She arched her back, jerking a bit against his hold. It probably shouldn’t turn her on /so/ much when she couldn’t touch him. But then again, Victor was probably the only person she’d ever met that she’d willingly turn her will over to. “Fuck, Victor, fuck,” she hissed, eyes rolling back. “More, yes,” and then her words degenerated into a mush of pleading.