Chapter 111. Devious Little Shit

PRECIOUS

April 24th, xxxy

This is better than any fantasy Precious has ever imagined. Fucking Kamil from behind? Hell yes. Fucking Kamil from behind while his ankles and wrists are cuffe? Fuck yeah.

The chains clank against the bed as Precious moves rhythmically, swivelling his hips and hitting that sweet spot so fast, so hard Kamil can't think, can't even blink.

At this rate, the bed might break at the ferocious fucking.

Kamil is arched over, biting into the headboard leaving teeth marks, cock throbbing into the wood. He fists it but doesn't stroke because Precious is tirelessly begging to "leave it, let me touch it, I want to touch it. Can I? Please, Baby."

Intoxicated by the multiple hickeys that he has imprinted on Kamil's neck—shoulder, grove of his collarbone, his nape, upper back; any flesh Precious can sink his teeth into, he has—Precious lowers his face onto Kamil's pressure point, the pulsating scent of sage, sage, sage shoots a fire in