Chapter 7 #2
She looked prim and debauched at the same time.
Kneeling at his feet, taking his cock into her mouth, her tits bared and her nipples turgid.
The good little wife, the shameless seductress.
It was irresistible. One of his hands tangled in her upswept hair, grabbing hold of her tresses to control her movement, and she allowed it.
She gave him the control to pump himself faster, deeper into the hot wet haven of her mouth, until his balls contracted and he was seconds away from a magnificent culmination. He wanted it. Needed it. But…not yet.
Once he spent, this delicious interlude would be over. And they would go back to being apart. Separate. The world, and everything that divided them, would intrude again. He couldn’t bear it. He needed this to last longer. He needed to be inside her.
With the last of his willpower, he pulled his aching cock from her wonderful mouth, pulling her up for a hard, fast and frantic kiss before he reversed their positions again, turning her around to bend her over the bed.
“Brace yourself,” he commanded as he notched the aching head of his cock at her entrance. She looked back over her shoulder, an inviting smile curving her lips.
He plunged into her. Her hot, tight, slick sheath welcomed him home, surpassing every fantasy he’d had in the past five years. Her greedy cunt made wet sucking sounds as she moaned, her hands fisting on the velvet counterpane.
“That’s right. Take my cock. I love the way your sweet little pussy swallows my big cock. Did you miss it?” he ground out, relentlessly shoving into her. In, out, setting a steady pace, exactly the way she liked it. The way that drove her wild.
Distant moans and grunts joined his wife’s sounds. From the other rooms, or were they being observed through the peephole?
He didn’t care. In fact, the possibility that someone might be watching them only heightened his pleasure. He wanted the whole world to watch as he claimed her. Let them all know she was his.
Alice cried out in ecstasy as his thick length filled her. Satisfying an emptiness that had plagued her since the last time they were together. But she would never say it. She would never confess to needing this. To needing him.
So she obstinately pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.
But she couldn’t contain the moan that escaped her throat as he moved inside her.
Slow, deep. It wasn’t fair, the way he could obliterate her senses.
He knew her too well. Knew exactly what she liked.
How she liked it. And she was putty in his hands.
“Yes, darling, moan for me.” He leaned down, covering her back with his torso, softly biting her ear, before licking it and whispering. “Has anyone ever fucked you as well as I?”
She whimpered and buried her face in the sheets. Refusing to look at him. Fighting to stay in control. It was a losing battle. He was unraveling her. The way he always did.
His hand, big and powerful, tangled in her hair, grabbing a fistful and holding her head to the side, exposing her neck to his mouth.
He bit softly on the tendon at the back, then stilled inside her.
She tried to move her hips, to resume the glorious stroking, but he held her immobile with his weight.
“Answer me.” His voice was implacable.
“No, damn you.”
“That’s right. Because, you are my wife,” he whispered in her ear, his voice low, dark. “And nobody knows your body like I do.”
He resumed the stroking. Enough to stoke her desire to dangerous levels. To bring her to the cusp of ecstasy and leave her teetering on the top, refusing to let her fly over the edge into sweet oblivion.
“Please,” she sobbed.
“Please what, wife?” His smug tone left no doubt that he knew what he was doing.
Was doing it on purpose. The impossible man.
He wanted nothing short of her complete surrender, and she refused to give it.
With his flesh embedded in her so deep it almost touched her soul, it was undeniable he had the upper hand.
But maybe she could exert some sort of influence on his iron control.
Maybe that very connection made him as susceptible to her as she was to him.
Focusing on the place they joined, she tightened her muscles around his length and was rewarded by a strangled gasp.
“You wicked wench.” The sharp crack of his hand meeting her flesh sounded twice before the heat bloomed across her backside, where he had spanked her. “You think you can get what you want without surrendering?”
He withdrew. Suddenly. Tearing a whimper from her and leaving her clamping on emptiness. He laid his stiff member on her bottom, right between her cheeks, allowing her to feel the thickness, but denying her where she needed him the most.
“Ask me nicely.”
“Please,” she sobbed, past pride.
He posed his member at her entrance, allowing her to feel just the tip. Taunting her with the promise of completion.
“Say you are mine.”
She remained silent.
He slid in just the head. Glorious. Not enough.
“I’m yours,” she capitulated in a small voice.
His grunt of satisfaction joined with her cry of ecstasy as he slammed into her, stroking deep, and she started climbing.
“Who am I?
“My husband.”
“Damn right, I am. You belong with me, Persephone. You may go away for a little while, but you’ll always return to me. Because I am your king. Your ruler. And you need me.”
She was so close. So close. If he didn’t let her fly this time, she was going to die. But he stayed with her. Stroking deep. Strong, deep thrusts that tightened something within her. Then his hand curled around her hip, insinuating itself between the swollen lips of her sex to stroke her pearl.
She shattered, screaming in ecstasy. Wave after wave of blinding release coursed through her. He stayed with her, in her. Hard, strong, relentless. Until the last spasms of her orgasm had left her. Until she collapsed. Worn out and spent and floating in bliss.
He still stroked deep within her. Once, twice. Suddenly, he was gone, and a moment later, she felt the warmth of his seed splatter on her back amid his roar of release.
Various other grunts and moans floated in the air, coming from beyond the walls of their room.
Good God, did they have an audience? Possibly.
Maybe on the morrow she could muster some embarrassment over their wanton excesses.
But right now, she only felt a wicked titillation.
She didn’t mind if faceless, anonymous people watched her and her husband perform.
Except he wasn’t acting as her husband at all, was he? His words about her being his wife and he her husband were all part of the Hades and Persephone fantasy. His last words about him being her king and ruler proved that.
As did the fact that he didn’t release inside her.
He was avoiding impregnating her. Which meant he probably still meant to continue with the divorce.
As a lord, he needed an heir. And if she were really his wife, nothing would be more natural than trying to get her with child.
But this was just sex. An escapade brought about by their physical compatibility and their surroundings.
It meant nothing. She meant nothing to him.
A warm, moist towel touched her back. Cleaning his spend.
“Are you quite all right?”
His voice radiated gentle concern, and the dissonance with their previous wild lovemaking, and her own less than happy thoughts was too much to bear. She drew her shield around her. Sitting up and retrieving her discarded gown.
“Yes, of course.”
She wrangled with her gown, striving to put it on. He helped her, patiently holding, tucking, lacing. Fixing her until she was presentable again. Damn him, why did he have to be so considerate, as if he really cared for her, when he didn’t really care enough?
She should be glad he at least had the consideration of avoiding impregnating her.
Certainly, a baby right now, as things were between them, would be a great complication.
They were in the middle of divorce proceedings, for goodness’ sake!
They had just fucked in a pleasure club with the possibility of strangers watching.
It was not the time or place to conceive a baby.
And yet…a yearning she didn’t know she harbored until this very moment unfurled in her, taking her entirely by surprise.
She would have wanted to bear his child. She would have wanted to still be his wife.