Laid & Betrayed (R18+)

(ZAYNE'S POV)

The cold metal bites into my wrists, a stark contrast to the fire raging through the rest of my body. I pull against the restraints, testing them. They don't give an inch. A twisted thrill shoots through me. I'm completely at her mercy.

Natasha hovers above me, her dark eyes drinking in the sight of me pinned and helpless. Her full, heavy tits sway with her every slight movement, those perfect pink nipples hard and begging for my mouth. But my mouth is out of commission.

"You like being my prisoner, Zayne?" she purrs, her voice a low, husky thing that goes straight to my already-throbbing cock.

"I like the view," I grind out, my hips twitching upward, desperate for contact.

Her lips curve into a wicked smile. Slowly, so fucking slowly, she lowers herself. One hand guides my dick, positioning me at her entrance. I can feel the incredible heat radiating from her, the wetness I put there with my tongue. My eyes roll back in my head as the very tip of me breaches her.

Fuck. She's so warm.

"That's it," she whispers, taking me inch after inch. "Oh... fuck, you're so big."

Her pussy grips me like a fist, tight, wet and perfect. A deep groan tears from my throat as she takes me all the way in, until our hips meet and she's fully seated on me. I'm buried to the hilt inside her. She's everywhere, her scent, her heat, the sheer overwhelming sensation of being this deep inside her. I strain against the cuffs, my muscles corded with the effort of not thrusting up into her.

"Holy shit, Natasha," I gasp, my voice ragged. "Your fucking pussy... it's so tight."

She begins to move, slowly. So slow that it tortures me. Her inner muscles clench around my shaft with every thrust. Her tits bounce with the rhythm, a hypnotic sway that pulls my gaze.

"You like watching these, don't you?" she taunts, cupping her breasts, lifting them toward my face. "You want to suck on them while I ride your dick? Too bad." She lets them go and they sway heavily, jiggling with every bounce. "You're all tied up for me. All you get to do is watch and take it."

She picks up the pace, her hips thrusting faster. The slapping sound of our skin meeting fills the room. I'm fucking lost in it, in the feel of her, the sight of her. Her head falls back, a string of curses falling from her lips.

"Fuck! Yes! Your cock is so deep! You fill me up so fucking good, Zayne!"

Her hands slide down her own body, her fingers finding her clit. She rubs fast, desperate circles, her moans pitching higher. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum all over your fucking dick."

The sight of her touching herself while riding me is the most erotic thing I've ever seen. I watch, mesmerized, as her fingers fly over her slick flesh. Her rhythm on my cock becomes frantic, erratic.

"Do it," I beg, pulling uselessly at the cuffs. "Cum for me, you fucking bitch. Soak my cock."

Her body goes rigid above me. She screams as her orgasm hits. Her pussy clenches around my dick in a series of violent, fluttering spasms, a wave of wet heat flooding me. She rides through the convulsions, her hips stuttering, milking me through every last pulse.

Just as she starts to come down, she lifts herself completely off my dick. I groan at the sudden, cold emptiness. But she's not done. She stays crouched over me, her fingers still working her clit furiously.

"Watch," she commands, her voice strained. "Watch what you do to me."

Her whole body seizes up again, tighter than before. A gush of fluid, clear and hot, sprays from her, coating my cock, my stomach, my balls. She fucking squirts, her body shuddering with the force of it. The sight, the smell of her, it's fucking primal. I've never seen anything so nasty or so perfect.

Before I can even process it, she's sinking back down onto my cock, taking me in one smooth, wet slide. I cry out, the sensation overwhelming.

"Fuck! Natasha! I'm gonna cum," I warn her, my balls tightening, the pressure coiling at the base of my spine. "I'm gonna fucking lose it!"

Suddenly, her hand is around my throat. Not enough to cut off air, just enough to assert total dominance. Her grip is firm, claiming. She leans forward, her sweaty breasts pressing against my chest, and starts riding me again, harder and faster than before.

"You will not cum until I say you can," she snarls, her eyes burning into mine. "You're mine right now. This cock is mine. You came in my mouth, now you're gonna come deep inside my pussy. I want to feel you pulse inside me. I want you to fill me up with your load. Do you understand me?"

The combination of her words, her hand on my throat, the frantic pace of her hips-it shatters the last of my control.

"I can't... I can't hold it!" I rasp.

"Now, Zayne!" she screams, slamming down on me one last time. "Cum inside me! Fucking fill my pussy!"

My vision whites out. My back arches off the bed as much as the cuffs will allow. A roar rips from my throat as I climax, my release pumping into her in hot, pulsing jets. I spill into her depths, my orgasm seeming to go on forever, drawn out by the relentless clenching of her cunt around my dick. She rides me slowly through it, milking me of every last drop, her own body trembling with aftershocks.

Eventually, she goes still, collapsing forward onto my chest. Her hand slips from my throat to cup my cheek. She captures my mouth in a deep, slow, possessive kiss.

She pulls away just inches, her breath warm on my face. A lazy, satisfied smile spreads on her swollen lips.

"The rumors are true after all," she breathes. "You really are good in bed."

Slowly, she lifts herself off me, my slick, softening dick sliding out of her with a wet sound. She moves to kneel between my still-spread legs and we both look down.

A trickle of my cum escapes her, dripping down her inner thigh onto me. She smiles, dipping her fingers in-between her folds, and brings them to her lips.

"Look what you did to me," she says, her voice dropping to a whisper as she rubs her swollen pussy, smearing our mixed release across her skin.

My chest is still heaving. The air feels thick and hot in my lungs, every breath scraping out between clenched teeth. I can still feel her, every inch of her, ghosting across my skin like she branded me.

"That was... incredible," I manage, breathless.

Natasha doesn't answer. She gets off the bed, crouches on the floor, and digs through our mess of clothes. Her hair's wild, her back glistens with sweat, and she's moving fast-too fast for someone who just came that hard.

"Hey," I call, still panting. "Come here. Take these off." I lift my wrists as much as the cuffs will let me, the metal clinking.

She doesn't even glance at me. She just keeps rummaging through the pile of clothes.

"Natasha," I say, firmer this time. "Come take the damn cuffs off."

Still she ignores me.

"Natasha." My voice sharpens. "I said come-"

"Shut the fuck up!" she snaps, spinning around.

I freeze.

Her tone cut through the haze in my head. The lust in her face is now gone. What's left is something cold, and unfamiliar.

"What the hell?" I whisper. "What's your problem?"

She doesn't answer. Just straightens up slowly, her expression unreadable. Every muscle in my body goes tight, instinct clawing its way up my throat.

Something's wrong.

Really wrong.

"Natasha," I growl, yanking at the cuffs. The metal bites deeper into my skin. "Take these cuffs off! Now!"

Her eyes flicker, then she moves fast. Before I can react, her fist slams into my face. Pain explodes behind my eye and the metallic taste of blood floods my mouth.

"Fuck!" I spit, jerking against the cuffs. "What the-?"

She doesn't give me a chance to finish. She reaches into the bedside drawer and pulls out something. It takes me a second to realize what it is.

A ball gag.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I bark, jerking my head back. "Natasha, stop! Don't you dare-!"

She climbs onto the bed, straddles me, and with terrifying precision, shoves the gag into my mouth. I thrash, cursing, but the words come out muffled and meaningless. The straps cinch tight behind my head.

My heart's slamming in my chest now, wild and panicked. This isn't sex anymore. This isn't foreplay. Her eyes-those dark, teasing eyes-are now stone cold.

She stands over me, crossing her arms across her chest, breathing heavy but steady.

"I just wanted to know for myself," she says, tilting her head. "what the hype was all about... before I do what I was sent to do."

The words hit me like a bucket of ice.

My brows knit together, my confusion mixed with panic.

Sent to do? What the fuck was she sent to do?

I shake my head violently, trying to speak through the gag, but all that comes out are strangled sounds.

She doesn't care.

She hops off the bed, bends, picks up her purse, and digs through it. The faint jingle of metal zippers sounds deafening in the silence between us. She pulls out her phone and dials a number.

I thrash harder, the bed creaking beneath me, my wrists raw and stinging from the cuffs. My heart is pounding so loud I can barely hear the ringing on the other end of her call.

Then someone picks up.

"Hello," she says, her voice calm. "Yes. I succeeded."

Her eyes flick toward me. The tiniest hint of a smile curves her lips.

"Tell Don D'Angelo," she continues, her tone smooth and steady, "that I have him."

My blood runs cold.

I scream into the gag, my pulse roaring in my ears.

But she just faces away, turning her back to me like she's already erased me from existence.