Chapter 8 Octavia #3
“Fuck me,” I say, staring into his face to search for any kind of reaction that will tell me what he’s feeling.
“I only fuck my wife,” he says straight-faced.
“I thought I was your wife,” I cajole, feeling like an asshole for playing into his narrative, when only minutes earlier I denied our connection.
“You are. But you only seem to agree when my dick is inside of your cunt.”
I should not have told him to call my vagina a cunt, because every time the dirty word falls from his perfectly full lips, I react like an animal in heat.
“So make me agree,” I taunt, reaching behind me and fisting his cock.
Covering my hand with his, he guides himself to my entrance, lifting his hips and pushing just the head inside of me.
“Oh god,” I moan softly as my body slowly stretches to accommodate him.
The creases in his brow are the only reaction he gives, and I wish I could see inside his mind to understand what he’s feeling when his face gives nothing away.
My body burns with the need to sink down onto him and ride his dick, but despite the tub being larger than average, with both of us in here, there’s no room for me to plant my feet or get enough leverage to move.
“Knight,” I beg when I try to push him deeper inside of me and find myself unable to move.
“I only fuck my wife,” he says again, his pupils dilated as he looks from my face to where our bodies are connected.
“Make me believe it,” I hiss.
“No.”
His simple, one-word denial makes something inside of me snap. “Fuck me, Knight,” I say.
“I. Only. Fuck. My. Wife,” he says again, annunciating each word individually.
“I’m your fucking wife,” I growl angrily, hating that he’s denying me when I’ve told him what I need.
“Prove it,” he says, turning the tables and taunting me. His face is still impassive and so fucking calm I want to slap his cheek just to see his reaction.
Spreading my knees, I widen my legs, forcing more of his dick to slide into my body, until I’m riding half of his length.
He’s not deep enough to have my eyes rolling back in my head, but it feels good.
Bracing my hands on either side of the tub, I push up, then squat back down again.
Locking my gaze with his, I use his body while I silently beg him to take control, to fuck me, and make me come.
“I’m your wife, Knight,” I mock. “You told me your dick is only for me, that you only make your wife come, but you’re leaving me wanting, you’re leaving me half empty and unsatisfied.”
“You denied it,” he says, calm and unflappable.
“I want you to prove it to me,” I shout, pushing up and down on the head of his dick, desperate for more.
“And I want you to accept who you are.”
“How? I’ve said I’m your wife. I’ve said it.”
“I want to make it legal. I want you to sign the paperwork, and then I’ll fuck you.
I’ll use your pussy over and over for the next three days straight.
The moment you’re truly mine, I’ll fill your cunt with my cum so many times, my seed will drip out of you every time you breathe.
I’ll sit you on my cock while the judge makes it official and make you come the moment the stamp hits the paperwork. ”
My breathing turns shallow as my heart races behind my ribs. “Okay,” I say, bracing myself for his dick to slam all the way into me, but instead of shock and awe and an orgasm, he lifts me up and places me back down into the water, reaching for the soap.
“What?” I hiss, my chest heaving.
“Don’t worry, little doll. Soon you’ll be screaming and coming on my cock. But first we have to take care of business.”
Bewildered, frustrated, and on the verge of tears, I’m too upset to argue as he washes my body, then my hair, before lifting me out of the tub and wrapping me in a towel.
Positioning me in front of the bathroom vanity, he blow-dries my hair, then styles it into two bunches, even going so far as to pull out a curling wand to curl the ends.
Once he’d done, he opens the drawer and reveals all of my makeup.
Standing behind me, he watches carefully as I apply it, then once I’m finished, he fastens two beautiful white bows in my hair, drags the towel from around me, and carries me into the bedroom, lowering me to my feet in the closet.
Not giving me the chance to pick for myself, he selects a stunningly ornate gothic dream dress, with a lace tiered skirt, ruffles, and a huge bow at the back.
Only instead of being in my usual black, it’s white.
The skirt is a little shorter than I usually wear, and the top has a built-in corset tied with glossy white ribbons.
It’s stunning, and as he drops it over my head, I’m excited to see myself in it.
Once my arms are through the sleeves, Knight carefully tightens the corset, cinching me into the dress until my tiny breasts are plump and full, and my waist looks minuscule.
Opening a drawer in the dresser, Knight selects white sheer ankle socks with a frill around the top and then produces white platform Mary Janes that he must have bought for me, because I’ve never seen them before.
His usually unemotional face is glowing with intensity when he steps back and looks at me. “You look stunning,” he praises, his hard dick bobbing between his legs and reminding me that even though I’m fully dressed, he’s still naked.
Turning, I look at myself in the mirror and suck in a shocked gasp. I look amazing. Wearing white instead of my usual black is startling, but instead of feeling like a stranger, I look…ethereal…like a character out of an anime or an awesome fantasy novel.
“It’s a beautiful dress,” I say reverently, smoothing my fingers over the full lace skirt that poofs out from my hips without an underskirt.
As I sway from side to side, watching the skirt swoosh in the most satisfying way, I realize I’m not wearing underwear.
With the top being corseted, I don’t need a bra, but I definitely need panties.
“I need panties,” I say with a giggle, unable to stop myself from smiling despite my sour, unsatisfied mood.
“No, you don’t,” Knight says, stepping out to stand beside me in black pants and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“Knight, this dress is beautiful, but it’s short, and I’d rather not flash anyone when I bend over.”
“We’re not going anywhere. You don’t need panties in the house,” he assures me, taking my hand and tugging me away from the mirror and out of the room.
“If we’re not going anywhere, why am I dressed up?” I ask, upset that no one will see me in this amazing outfit. Dresses like this were made to be worn, to be seen, not to lounge around the house scrolling the internet.
Not speaking, Knight leads me down the stairs and through the house toward the yard that I haven’t had a chance to explore yet.
French doors lead out of my game room and onto a gothic outdoor paradise.
A black pergola, covered in faux wisteria vines that have white and black flowers hanging from them instead of the usual lilac ones, is positioned just off the doors, with gorgeous patio furniture and even a black outdoor area rug covering the white-and-black terrazzo floor.
“This is gorgeous,” I gasp, glancing around at the beautifully landscaped yard. A path meanders through the space, with lush green lawns leading to borders filled with green plants interspersed with black, white, purple, and pink flowers.
“Come and sit with me,” Knight says, tugging my hand and guiding me toward the sofa instead of further into the yard.
Sitting down first, Knight grabs my hips, stopping me from taking the seat beside him. “Wait,” he orders, fluffing the back of my skirt up, curling an arm around my waist, and slowly lowering me to sit on his lap.
“What are you doing?” I shriek when I feel his legs spread between mine.
“What I promised,” he says cryptically, until I feel his hard cock probing at my pussy as he carefully holds me in place just above it.
“We’re outside,” I say with a shaky giggle.
“I own all the land in every direction, but the yard is fenced off so no one can see in anyway,” he assures me, sliding one, then two fingers into my pussy before he quickly replaces them with the head of his cock.
“Oh,” I pant, as he inches inside of me, holding most of my weight with the arm he has banded around me.
It feels like it takes forever before my ass settles fully onto his lap, the fabric of his pants soft beneath my butt. “Oh my god,” I whine, feeling full and excited.
“How does it feel?” he asks quietly.
“So good. Fuck me, Knight, please,” I beg.
“Soon,” he assures me, carefully smoothing my skirt down over my thighs.
“Soon,” I gasp in protest. “No, now, I need you.”
A soft beeping sound comes from somewhere, followed by the sound of footsteps. “Oh my god, is someone here?” I whisper-yell.
Before he has a chance to answer, three people round the corner of the building—two men and a woman. All three are older and dressed smartly—the two men in suits, the woman in a classy knee-length dress and heels.
“Knight,” the first man says, striding over with his hand outstretched toward him.
“Judge Lodge, thank you for doing this,” Knight says, reaching around me to take the man’s hand. They shake, and the guy takes a seat beside us.
Oh. My. God. There is a stranger sitting beside us on the sofa, while I’m naked beneath my dress and full of Knight’s cock.
“It’s great to see you, although I have to admit I’m shocked this is the reason you’re calling in your marker. Hell, I don’t think you can even call this a favor. I consider it an honor,” Judge Lodge says, his lips spread into a wide smile.
“While I appreciate that, sir, I’m still more than happy to call us even after today,” Knight tells him, his tone respectful.
“I’m Brandon. You must be Miss Hodkins. It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who’s captured this man’s heart,” Judge Lodge says, holding his hand out to me to shake.