She flipped the blindfold off and watched as he blinked rapidly, squinting in the dim light of the room. His dark hair was wild about his head and the sheen of sweat on his skin only served to make his muscles stand out in stark shadows. His tattoos stood out against the flush in his pale skin; someday soon, Sloane decided, she'd map all the ink with her mouth and commit it to memory.

For now, however, she was fascinated with the bright and eager sparkle in Murphy's eyes and she hummed in approval as he licked his lips. She held out a glass of water for him and he drank eagerly, collapsing back against the pillow with a sigh once his thirst was slaked.

"Are you ready to continue?"

Murphy grinned, perhaps a little bit loopy, and nodded down to between his thighs. "You tell me," he husked.

Sloane smirked at his breezy tone; he was drunk on a hormonal cocktail. Sweeping her gaze down to where he had indicated, she took stock of the hard, angry erection that Murphy sported, prolonged by the leather strap she'd fastened around him. She knew that physically he wouldn't be able to take much more. That was fine with her; she was almost past her peak and wanted nothing more than to have Murphy deep inside of her, fucking her into oblivion.

Turning to his feet, she quickly slipped the knots that held him and he groaned, pulling his knees up and flexing his thigh muscles. He watched, his blue eyes gone almost black, as she stood and slipped out of her bra and panties. The sight of her breasts, flushed and heavy, and the tiny pink peaks of her nipples, made his mouth go dry. A helpless whimper escaped him as his eyes raked down and found the small thatch of copper curls glistening with untapped lust. He silently thanked the lord – she was as turned on as he was, and if that was any indication, Sloane wanted to come, and come badly. He was all for it.

"Let me fuck you," she demanded softly, already climbing onto the bed and straddling his hips.

He groaned, remembering that he had said the very same thing to her not eighteen hours before. He nodded quickly. "Aye, Mistress." He pulled on the ropes that still held his hands. "Gonna untie me?"

Sloane shook her head slowly as she balanced up on her knees and slid a hand between her thighs. She flicked her fingers up and down the slick, engorged flesh of her sex and bit her lip with a groan. "No," she rasped. "You don't need your hands in order for me to fuck you." Her hips rocked into her hand and she mewled, sinking her middle finger into her tight hole. "Fuck, Murphy, I'm so wet," she whispered, looking at him from under her lashes. She hissed, plunging her finger deeper, feeling the slick muscles contract around the slim digit. "And tight," she continued. "And I don't know if your cock is going to fit," she added with a playful pout.

Her other hand circled the base of his erection and she squeezed his hard thickness firmly as she drew her hand up his length. She fisted him like that for a moment, squeezing and pulling until he was shaking beneath her. "It'll fit," he advised quickly with a swift nod of his head. "It'll fit, I promise. An' it'll feel so fuckin' good, girl." He was rambling, and Sloane was too far gone with him to care that he no longer called her 'Mistress'. "Please," he went on. "Put yer pussy on me," he urged, bucking his hips up.

Raising up to her knees, she hovered over him, one hand planted on his belly for balance, while the other caught a fistful of his dark hair. She rolled her hips as she lowered herself, sweeping the hot, steely head of his cock along her slit. "Oh, fuck," she muttered, inhaling sharply.

Murphy surged beneath her, pushing the first inches of his cock into her, and he groaned thickly. It turned to a whine when Sloane backed off and tightened her grip in his hair.

"Patience," she hissed, though she didn't know if she was instructing him or herself. She stroked him again, and feel of her wetness spreading down his shaft made her tingle and want to crawl out of her skin.

"Fuck patience," Murphy snarled, his arms straining against the ropes. "For Chrissake, Sloane!" he growled. "Do you want me ta beg?"

Sloane paused, his words settling over her, and she opened her eyes once more and stared down at Murphy with a small smile. "Yes."

"I don't know how else I can say it," he huffed, trying desperately to push up into her pussy once more. He succeeded in slicking the head against her clit and the electricity that resulted jolted them both. His jaw clenched as his eyes did, and he felt tears or sweat rolling down his cheeks. "I want ya, Sloane. It hurts so bad, girl," he continued, dropping his guard. He watched, paralyzed, as Sloane's back arched and her hand buried deeper between her thighs. Gulping a breath, Murphy scrambled to continue. "Lord above, I need ya. Need ya ta sink that tight, hot pussy onto me. Want to come hard, deep inside ya." He paused, and listened to her sighs and the tiny whimpers that she made when she was on the verge of coming. Breathing heavily, he spoke again. "Want ya ta come with me cock in ya. Want ya ta brand me. Make me yers, girl."

With a breathy cry, Sloane slid dangerously close to the edge, and her fingers cramped from rubbing maddening circles over her clit and fucking herself. The hand that clutched his hair moved to her breast and she pulled at a taut nipple, making it hurt so that it brought her back from that pleasurable abyss she teetered on. His name tumbled from her lips and her hips circled once more before finally dropping down and taking his length deep inside.

She froze, her muscles contracting, and beneath her, Murphy arched sharply and howled. She was almost choking, he was filling her so much, and as she stretched and strained to accommodate him, she felt his pulse, felt his hips twitching and rising and falling, failing miserably to establish any sort of rhythm. Slowly, she relaxed, and her hands came to Murphy's chest where she pressed a palm against his heart, and one to his belly. She drew a deep breath, and then another, and opened her eyes.

"Murph," she whispered. "You need to relax, baby."

He shook his head stubbornly, his hips still stuttering against her pelvis.

She nodded and took his face in her hands. "Open your eyes." He obeyed, and she smiled down at him. "Now breathe." She inhaled and exhaled with him, and soon she felt his muscles loosen. Gently rotating her hips, she found that he had swelled even more, now that he wasn't concentrating on his body moving. She groaned deep in her throat, letting her head fall back. Her hands slid back from his chest and moved to her body, smoothing up her torso to cup her breasts gently. "Put your knees up," she murmured. He did as she asked, and she sat back against his legs. Snaking her fingers to where they were joined, she managed to press her thumb against the underside of his cock, stroking up every time she moved.

"Oh, fuck me," Murphy groaned as he felt Sloane's pussy flutter around him. Her thumb grinding sweetly, painfully into his burgeoning cock. He didn't think he could have gotten any harder, but he had, and now that he was breathing deeply, he felt blood shooting up and down his veins, through his limbs, bringing a rush of arousal with it.

"I'm trying to," Sloane muttered above him. Taking a hold of his hips, she rolled her pelvis back and down, and Murphy, being the quick study he was, pressed up on the balls of his feet and rocked his hips up under her. Sloane landed with a slight 'oof', and winced at the thick pleasure. "Fuck, Murphy, I love your cock."

He hummed beneath her. "Aye, Mistress," he purred, rising as she backed down on him again.

She rode him steadily, and Murphy watched, slightly jealous that her hands got to palm her breasts, but every so often, she'd squeeze his cock where it sat deep inside of her and speed up her pace. He could live with that. Actually, he was fairly certain he was going to die a slow, drawn out, painfully arousing death. He'd been pushed to the edge quicker and in ways he didn't know existed, and each time he surprised himself – and Sloane – he craved it that much more. He'd always know he was a little more highly sexed than most, maybe even more than his brother, and now he knew he'd met his match in Sloane.

He winced as a rush of pleasure sliced through him and he pulled at the ropes again. "Sloane," he whispered hotly. "Untie me hands, girl. Want ta touch ya. Please."

To his delight, she nodded, and leaned forward to swiftly loosen the knots, drawing out a loud gasp from them both at the change of angle.

She was surprised when he didn't try to change positions, but merely flexed his arms and his wrists before gently laying his palms on her breasts. He squeezed the firm mounds, rolling the nipples with his palms, and before she could draw away and sit back, Murphy's torso jacked up and he caught her mouth with his in a slow kiss. Tongues licked at lips and he tasted her chin and her jaw and the sweat below her ears before he relaxed once more and let her have her way.

The calluses on his palms grated against the hard pink tips of her breasts and stripped another layer from the wire on which she balanced. Leaning back against his thighs once more, she caught one of his hands in hers and brought their twisted fingers down to where they were joined. She used his fingers to strum her clit, swiping upwards with every stroke until her toes curled and her free hand was clutching his hip. Her first orgasm was swift, coming and going on a breath, and it loosened her body, but not her arousal, and Murphy sank deeper.

She pitched forward, already feeling her stamina diminish. With a hand on either side of his shoulders, Sloane bent down and kissed Murphy deeply, concentrating on the taste of his mouth and the scratch of his beard, as their hips ground together furiously. Belly to belly, her small breasts flattened to his chest, their thundering hearts pounding together, and he slid on hand to her hip and the other to her hair, holding her mouth steady against his as he jerked his hips high and hard.

She hissed, snagging his lip with her teeth, and she pulled back enough to look him in the eye. Nodding frantically, she encouraged him. "Come, Murphy. I'm going to come again, come with me." Once more, she reached between their bodies.

He nodded, swallowing thickly and gritting his teeth. "Ah, Christ," he panted, the tendons in his neck standing out as he strained. "Here it comes," he muttered, pushing Sloane down as far as she would go. "Coming now," he warned. And then suddenly, blissfully, and agonizingly swift, the pressure that had kept his orgasm at bay released, and it was like his cock was one giant raw nerve, hot and cold and bursting. His cry was sharp, hoarse, and it shook with him as his body quivered.

She splintered apart above him, and below, he was demolished. Their hips stuttered erratically as they came back down, and their hands were heavy against each others bodies. Lips became languid, and contented sighs rose up as Sloane slumped against Murphy's chest and he melted into the mattress.

"What do you and floor tiles have in common?"

Murphy roused at the husky tone of Sloane's voice and he managed to turn his head out from under the pillow. He cracked an eye open. "Huh?"

She smiled mischievously. "I said, what do you and floor tiles have in common?"

He gave her a wry smile. "Dunno. What do we have in common?"

"If I lay you both right once, I can walk all over you for twenty years."

Murphy snorted as Sloane dissolved into a fit of giggles and he grabbed an extra pillow and smacked her over the head with it. "After the shaggin' I gave you last night, an' you with yer wicked ways this afternoon, I'd say we're both in top shape to be walked all over." He reached a long arm out and found her clove cigarettes next to the bed. Lighting two, he handed one off to her. "Don't tell Conn, aye? But tha things ya did ta me…" he chuckled, shaking his head, "Jesus Christ, Sloane, I'll be whatever ya want me ta be."

"Lord's name," Sloane chided. "And I couldn't have affected you that much."

Murphy blew a sharp smoke ring, followed by two more, and shrugged. "Well, ya won't be rid of me easily, I can tell ya that."

"Funny," Sloane mused, blowing a stream of fragrant smoke from her lungs. "I was thinking the same thing."

end.