Chapter One
CHAPTER ONE
DALTON
“You’re just as gorgeous now as you were the first night I kissed you.” I whispered the praise into my husband’s neck, using my teeth and my lips and my tongue to make sure he felt the truth of it against his skin.
“You don’t remember the first night you kissed me,” he murmured, angling his head to the side to give me better access to his neck.
“No,” I agreed. “But I remember the second time I married you.”
Ivey hummed, a low and agreeable sound that went straight to my cock.
“I remember the day I bound you to the legs of my couch and ate your ass until you cried,” I said, grazing my teeth over the hump of his Adam’s apple. “You’re just as beautiful now as you were then too.”
“Sounds like you think I’m always beautiful.”
I nipped at his collarbone, forcing myself to put space between our quickly overheating bodies.
“You are,” I said. “Especially like this.”
Another sound from somewhere deep in the back of his throat, and I finally paused long enough to admire my handiwork.
Ivey looked amazing in a three piece suit and he looked just as good wearing nothing more than his wedding band. He looked the best—in my professional opinion—trussed up like a horny masochist who was ready to get fucked, which was how he sat currently, leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, spread eagle against a St. Andrew’s Cross in a private room at LA’s most exclusive BDSM club—Rapture.
His cock was long and hard, engorged with so much blood it looked ready to burst, even though I was nowhere near done with him. I took another step back, appreciating the way his wild, blue eyes tracked every move. His brain clocking me like the absolute predator I was. At least, when it came to him.
The private rooms at Rapture were simple, but stocked. A cross, a spanking bench, a bed, and a couch, with an armoire full of impact toys and other goodies, though guests were always allowed to bring their own. Ivey and I enjoyed a sort of play that was harder than most, so I’d packed a bag from home, not wanting to run the risk of breaking any of the community toys.
I reached into the small black duffel and rifled through it until I found a mid-size silicone plug and a bottle of lube. I dug a little deeper until I found the rosewood paddle my friend Rob had bought us as an anniversary present, then I slicked the plug with lube and headed back to my helpless husband.
“Hold this,” I said, raising it to his mouth.
He took the edge of the paddle between his teeth and bit down to hold it steady. It was extremely hard wood, meant to sustain the level of use I planned to give it, but I hoped that Ivey’s teeth would leave their mark just the same. Notching the bulbous and slippery plug behind his balls and against his hole, I smiled at the way his eyes widened. Beyond that, he offered no protest, and I teased his hole until the links on the cuffs rattled against the wood of the cross.
“It’s big, Ivey,” I warned.
He grunted, and I flicked my wrist up to get a better angle. The plug pushed against his hole, stretching, stretching, stretching before finally forcing his muscles to give way. He whimpered around the paddle, then made a pathetic little slurping noise as he tried to stop himself from drooling all over his chin.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
Ivey blinked hard, shoulders sagging as I gave another push of the toy.
He exhaled hard through his mouth. More stretching, and more, and more, and then with a startled gasp from between his teeth, Ivey’s body accepted the thickest part of the plug and sucked the rest of it inside of him. I adjusted the flared base to make sure he was properly stuffed, my own arousal only growing headier with the uncontrollable whimpers that gathered themselves against the roof of his mouth.
“Especially like this,” I repeated, reaching down and pressing hard against the base of my own cock.
Getting Ivey roughed up and into position had been a practice in self-torment. For all the ways he knew to submit, the act of it coming so naturally to him, he’d also grown bolder around me, daring touches, risking glances. Ivey was the perfect man, the perfect husband, the perfect submissive. Nothing he could do would ever change that, but it sure was fun to try and push him to the edge sometimes.
“Ivey,” I groaned his name, smearing residual lube up the length of my shaft. He wouldn’t need it when the time came. The plug would have him loose and wet enough to take two cocks…though the situation would never call for that. My friends were the ones who liked to share, not me.
Never me.
“Yes, Sir.” He mumbled the response with the paddle in his mouth.
I stepped up to him and curled my fingers around the handle. He obediently opened his mouth and worked his jaw to settle the ache, then eyed me expectantly.
“Will you bear it for me?” I asked, flipping the paddle to an overhanded grip.
His lashes fluttered closed and he wrapped his fingers around the chains that linked his cuffs to the cross.
“Yes,” he said simply. “Always.”
I raised the paddle and brought it down—hard—against the inside of his thigh. His entire body ripped itself away from the cross with a violent force, but he managed enough restraint to only let out a shocked-sounding gasp.
“Good?”
Ivey swallowed. Nodded. “Good.”
I followed up with another crack of the wood against his skin, the sound decadent enough on its own to make me want to weep. I’d have to come up with an adequate thank you for Rob and Grayson. But that could wait for later.
I paddled Ivey over and over in the same spot on the inside of his thigh. A dark purple welt formed after the second hit, and I counted my way up to ten before I stopped.
Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, clumping his lashes together, but his dick betrayed him. Thick and hard, slapping against his stomach and leaving a mess of precum across his abs.
“Gorgeous,” I murmured, wiping tears off his cheeks and smearing them down the length of my dick.
Ivey breathed hard, head lolling around like he didn’t have the strength to keep it upright. His legs trembled, the pressure of holding himself up undoubtedly taxing.
“I can’t wait to fuck you,” I told him, repositioning myself so I could swing at his other thigh.
Three hard and loud smacks of the paddle against his other leg were enough to break through his stoicism. Ivey wailed openly, fighting against his restraints but never offering me a safe word. Four more and I watched him struggle to keep his feet beneath him. The final three echoed through the room like a symphony, and he cried out with such an agonized desperation that I had no choice but to give him what he needed from me the most.
I dropped the paddle on the floor then gave a sharp twist to the plug I’d stretched him out with. It popped out of him with an audible squelch, which drew a laugh out of me. Ivey’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, choking and gasping through the onslaught of tears, and he’d never been more perfect.
Never more mine.
I unsnapped his ankles, grabbed the backs of his thighs and thrust up into him, letting my cock fill the space left from the plug. When his muscles clenched down around my cock, Ivey cried out again, this time going completely limp in my arms. He knew he was safe with me and he knew I held him steady.
“Mine,” I whispered, bringing our bodies close together not only so I could get deeper inside of him, but so I could get my mouth onto his sweaty and salty skin. Ivey sobbed openly and loudly against my neck while I fucked him, the mumbled incoherence turning into a needy whine when I made a tight fist around his cock and started to stroke.
“Yours,” he rasped. “Yours. Yours. Yours. Yours .”
“Come for me.”
Getting Ivey off was like flipping a switch. No sooner had the command entered the space between our mouths, and he did as he was told. In my hand, his cock grew impossibly thick, harder maybe than he’d ever been, and then a hot fountain of cum spilled over my fingers.
I stroked him until his balls were empty, then took his thighs back into the punishing grip of my hand. I changed the angle so I could fuck him with short and hard thrusts, using the cross for leverage. The bruising on his thighs, the tears of his cheeks, his cum on my fingers, all of it together was a combination that made up the only drug I’d ever wanted in my life.
“Yours,” I whispered against his neck, baring my teeth to his skin as my own orgasm slammed into me like a semi truck. I slammed myself home, cum leaking out of his fucked and stretched ass as soon as it left my dick.
My vision went white, and then fireworks, and then it was impossible to hold myself up, let alone Ivey too. Slowly, I eased myself out of him and brought his feet back to the floor. He whimpered and moaned as I moved around him, his brain so deep in subspace he barely had control over his body anymore.
“Ivey,” I whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth and unclamping his wrists from the top of the cross. I lowered his arms slowly, massaging my own tingling fingers across his shoulders and his wrists as his blood flow changed direction. “Are you with me still?”
“So with you,” he murmured.
I hummed, helping him to the bed, which he collapsed onto face first. He was a big man, not just tall, but also muscular, and it took work to roll him onto his back so he didn’t suffocate in the pillows. I petted my hands down his body, checking for any unintentional injuries, trying not to linger on the bruises. I’d marked him hard and deep. He’d wear the evidence of those marks for days, if not weeks. Tracing the outline of the paddle on the inside of each leg, I walked my fingers back up until I reached his chest.
“No,” he murmured, no heart in the protest.
“No,” I repeated back to him, a taunt.
I took his nipples between my fingers, first plucking at them gently before going in harder. I pinched and twisted, and Ivey thrashed his head against the pillow, begging me to stop, but never offering me the one word that would bring it all to an end. I tortured his nipples until his cock was hard again, then teased them some more while I jerked him off so slowly he almost pulled himself out of subspace to beg me to take mercy on him.
I did, eventually, only after my arm had grown tired off stroking him off, at which point I focused my efforts and had him coming all over my hand in thirty more seconds. He made a mess of my fingers, so I offered them up to his mouth. Ivey grabbed my wrist, his eyes still closed, and he used his tongue to clean me off, continuing to suckle my fingers long after his cum had been licked away.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?” I asked, kissing the inside of his wrist, his forearm, the ditch of his elbow before tucking myself into a space beside him on the bed. We had the room for the rest of the night, but our friends were downstairs and I didn’t want to keep them waiting too terribly long.
“Yes,” Ivey answered slowly, finally blinking his eyes open and adjusting to the low light of the room. “You most definitely have.”