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The room was nearly silent, the only sounds Steve’s controlled breathing and the soft grind of metallic clasps as he shifted. His arms were bound high above him, stretching him to the limit.

Darcy admired the way he held himself (he could rest any time he wanted but what he wanted was to please her), adored how he put his trust in her. He knew she’d take care of him completely, that he was safe and loved (that though his muscles twinged with the strain of his position she would look after him).

She wrapped her hand around his achingly hard cock, heard the hitch in his breath that told her he was once again paying attention. (Don’t get lost in your head, Stevie. Focus on me.) He twitched, his toes nearly losing their tenuous grip on the lush carpet, but he held still and straight. (Good boy. Stay still for me.)

She bent low without warning, ran her tongue up the underside of his cock (tasted him, breathed him in) and he thought he would combust.