Richard doesn’t pull out.

He stays buried to the hilt, hips flush against my ass, one hand still gripping the belt that binds my wrists at the small of my back. The other rests heavy between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned face-down into the pillow. Every slow breath he takes shifts him inside me—tiny, deliberate movements that keep the stretch alive and make my oversensitive cock twitch against the sheets.

I can feel how hard he still is. Thick. Unyielding. The heat of him pulses deep enough that I can’t think about anything else.

For a long minute the only sounds are our breathing and the soft creak of...