The Edge of Want - Chapter 5: The Bind | Free Erotic Story

The hum of the tattoo gun filled Voss Ink, a steady buzz cutting through the late-night silence. Lila sat in her chair, hunched over Ezra’s chest, her hands steady as she inked a small design—a jagged line, like a crack mended with gold, right above his heart. He’d asked for it two days ago, showing up at her door with quiet eyes and a request she couldn’t refuse. Now, shirtless on her table, his skin glistened under the lamp, scars and muscle laid bare. She felt his heartbeat under her fingers, strong and even, and her own pulse echoed lower—her pussy waking up, a slow throb building with every stroke of the needle. “Almost done,” she said, voice soft, wiping blood and ink from his skin. The air was heavy, thick with the smell of antiseptic and the undercurrent of them—sweat, sex, something unspoken. He watched her, eyes dark and steady, and she felt it—his gaze stripping her as much as she’d stripped him. “Looks good,” he murmured, glancing down at the fresh tattoo, then back to her. His hand brushed her wrist, a light touch that sent heat straight to her cunt, her clit tingling under her jeans. She set the gun aside, capping the ink, and stood, trying to shake the pull of him. But he sat up, grabbing her wrists, pulling her onto his lap before she could step away. “Ezra—” she started, but his mouth was on hers, slow and deep, swallowing her protest. His lips were warm, tongue sliding against hers, and she melted into it—legs straddling him, pussy pressing against the bulge in his jeans. Her hands roamed his chest, careful around the new ink, nails scraping his sides as he groaned into her mouth. The chair creaked under their weight, leather cool against her thighs as she rocked into him, arousal soaking her panties. He pulled back, hands sliding under her shirt to lift it off, baring her tits. No bra again—just her, ink curling over her ribs, nipples hard and begging. He cupped them, thumbs circling the peaks, and she arched, clit pulsing with every touch. “Need you,” he said, voice rough but quiet, and it hit her—how much she needed him too, how the fight for control had softened into this. She stood just long enough to shed her jeans and panties, kicking them aside, then climbed back onto him, naked and dripping. He unzipped his fly, freeing his cock—thick, hard, the head slick with precum—and she didn’t wait. She sank onto him, slow and deliberate, her vagina stretching around his penis, inch by inch, until he was buried deep. Her cunt gripped him, wet and hot, and he hissed, hands guiding her hips as she settled, balls pressed tight against her ass. “Fuck, Lila,” he breathed, forehead pressed to hers, and she felt it—every pulse of his dick inside her, every twitch of her pussy around him. She moved, slow at first, rocking her hips, grinding her clit against his pelvis. The friction was perfect, her clit swelling, vagina fluttering as she rode him. His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer, and she felt his breath on her neck, ragged and warm. He thrust up, matching her rhythm, his cock sliding in and out—slick, deep, the wet sound of their fucking filling the room. Her tits bounced against his chest, nipples brushing his skin, and he caught one in his mouth, sucking gently, tongue swirling until she moaned. Her pussy clenched harder, arousal dripping down his shaft, coating his balls, and she felt them tighten—knew he was close, holding back for her. “Let go,” she whispered, lips brushing his ear, and it was a surrender—hers, his, theirs. She picked up the pace, riding him harder, her vagina clamping his dick, clit grinding until the pressure broke. Her orgasm hit slow and deep, rolling through her—pussy spasming, a flood of wet heat soaking him as she shuddered, gasping his name. “Ezra—” He groaned, hands gripping her hips, and thrust up one last time—cock swelling, then pulsing as he came. Hot cum spurted into her cunt, filling her, his penis jerking with each wave. She felt it all—the heat, the stretch, the way her vagina milked him dry—and collapsed against him, trembling, their sweat mingling on the leather chair. They stayed like that, tangled and still, his cock softening inside her, cum leaking onto his thighs. Her pussy ached, tender and full, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. The buzz of the tattoo gun was gone, replaced by their breathing—slow, synced, a quiet aftershock. She pressed her lips to his neck, tasting salt, and he tilted her chin up, kissing her soft and slow, like a promise. “You’re mine,” he said, barely a whisper, and she didn’t argue—not this time. Her fingers traced the fresh ink on his chest, the gold line gleaming, and she nodded, throat tight. “And you’re mine.” The shop was dark around them, the city asleep outside, and for once, the edge felt steady—a bind they’d forged, raw and real.