"Tamed Desires: The Coach's Command"

"Look at me," he ordered, voice dropping to a dangerous register. "I want to see your face while I break you."

His hand began to move, establishing a rhythm that had me straining against my handcuffs, torn between trying to escape and seeking more friction.

"Stop," I gasped, without any real conviction. "We can't—"

"We can," he countered, increasing his pace. "And we are. And by morning, you'll tell me everything I want to know."

My hips jerked upward involuntarily, seeking more contact. Pre-cum leaked from my tip, providing lubrication for his steadily pumping hand.

"God, that's—" I couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't form coherent thoughts as pleasure built with each stroke.

"That's what?" Reeves prompted, his voice husky with his own arousal now. "Say it. Tell me how it feels to be completely at my mercy."

"Good," I admitted, surrendering to the sensation. "It feels good."

A triumphant smile crossed his face. "That's just the beginning, Mercer. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging to confess."

His hand twisted slightly at the top of each stroke, his thumb occasionally swiping across my sensitive head, spreading the wetness. My breath came in ragged gasps as pressure built in my lower abdomen, a familiar tightening that signaled approaching release.

"I think you're close," he observed, his experienced hand reading my body's signals perfectly. "So responsive."

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