But I don't want him to stop. I want to shatter.
"Let me come. Please. I'll do anything—"
His grip tightens on the rope.
"Ima."
Now.
His hand finds my clit, finally.
Two strokes and I'm gone.
I scream his name. The orgasm tears through me, everything clenching at once, so hard I can't breathe. My ears ring and my walls clamp down on him and he groans, and still the pleasure keeps coming, rolling through me in waves that start where he's buried and pulse outward until even my scalp tingles.
He doesn't stop. He fucks me through it.
"One more."
"I can't—"
"You can." His voice is ragged. "Give it to me."
His fingers are still working. Too sensitive now, almost painful, but the pain tips into pleasure so fast I can't tell them apart. The second orgasm crests before the first fades, building on top of it, stacking, impossible.
I'm sobbing his name, incoherent, drooling onto the comforter.
The second orgasm crashes into the first.
And then he breaks.
Japanese pours out of him, his voice shattered. He comes with my name in his mouth, the heat of him pulsing inside me.
His rhythm stutters and stops.
For a moment, neither of us moves. His breath is ragged against my back, my thighs trembling, sweat between us where his chest meets my bound arms and cooling on my face.
Then he pulls out slowly. I whimper at the loss, and his hands go to my hips. He eases me down onto my side. The mattress dips as he lies behind me, chest against my bound arms, his breath ragged on my neck.
I'm still bound. He's still shaking. Both of us breathing hard.
"Angelina." My name against my neck. "My firefly."
My throat is too tight for words. I can only lie here, marked, claimed, his, and safe.
His hands are on the rope now, working the knots loose.
I'm floating. My limbs are heavy, my pulse slow. The world has narrowed to the warmth of him behind me, his chest against my back, and the deliberate movements of his fingers.
Each knot he frees, he kisses the skin beneath.
"Still with me?" His mouth is against the curve of my shoulder.
"Mmm."
"Words, Angelina." His fingers work another knot loose and the rope shifts against my skin.
"Here." My tongue is thick and slow. "Floaty. Good."