12. Vian #2
“You like that, though, don’t you? You want me to break.
See what will happen once I do. Let me tell you, wife.
It would mean nothing good for you. Enjoy me taking it slow, be thankful for the time when it’s your show, because afterward, I’ll be the one in control.
In control of your pleasure, of your body. ”
I erupt, painting the shower glass with sticky, thick streaks of white, and catch my breath.
By the time I compose myself, she has disappeared. She can hide, but she won’t escape me. I would find her anywhere.
Getting out, I wrap a towel low around my hips, the knot threatening to unfold any moment. I am a bastard for torturing her like this, but I am torturing myself just as much.
She lies on the bed, her back against the headboard, one knee bent up while the other leg stretches on the mattress, posing like an offering for a starved beast.
Zara watches every single one of my moves as she rolls her ring on her finger. She won’t hold on for long once I put my hands on her. The thought alone creates a pep in my step as I walk inside the walk-in closet and find my stuff neatly arranged next to hers.
I put on boxer briefs and join her in bed, sensing her mind going a hundred miles an hour. I know exactly what will help her overly anxious brain, so I ignore the sound of protest she lets out as I pull her to me. Once her back hits my chest, the protest dies on her lips.
Heaving myself against the headboard, I spread her thighs with my knees, causing her negligee to ride up, revealing her core. Then I place my palm on her belly, allowing her some time to prepare for what will happen.
“I know what you need. Let me help you, baby.” I brush my fingers down the valley of her breasts, and she offers me a tiny nod. “I need your words. I want your permission. I yearn for your submission.”
She lets out a sound half moan, half groan as I continue caressing her, my touch lulling her deeper into the layers of seduction.
Lowering my mouth to her ear, I whisper, voice hoarse, “It will be liberating. My woman is surely wet after the show in the bathroom.”
Goose bumps pepper her sensitive skin. “You’re shameless.”
“In wanting you,” I say, sounding unapologetic.
My fingers inch lower, finding their coveted destination. She’s not wet, she’s drenched.
She buries her face in my neck, trying to hide her desire, which I am eager to unleash.
I flick her clit, evoking needy sounds from her mouth, but I want her entire body to sing for me. Pushing two fingers inside her, I play with her folds, the wet sounds echoing in my ears, pumping me up with satisfaction.
“Can you hear how wet your pussy is for me? Such a tight, greedy hole.”
She squirms, not understanding her reaction to a derogatory word, liking that just as much as the praise. “Such a good girl for me.”
“Vian…”
“Do you want my cock back inside you and pretend you don’t need it?”
“Please…”
She seeks my eyes, and they look glazed over with desire. It almost undoes me, but first she will give me what I want.
“Come on my fingers.”
“And then?” She chokes on a moan as I stick a third one inside her and rub her clit with the heel of my palm.
I lick the side of her face. “And then on my tongue.”
“And then?” She breathes out, delirium mixed with desire.
“You truly are greedy,” I chuckle. “Tell me you crave my cock. When you’re ready to be fucked by a man who is desperate for his woman and not grieve someone who doesn’t exist anymore.”
She wriggles in my arms to escape, but I have a vise grip on her. She will come, willing or not; I don’t care. I’ve never been a moral man, and if I must force pleasure from her to make her see, I don’t have an issue with that.
“There’s no hiding, baby. So come for me. Come for your husband. Come for the only man you’ll have.”
She bites into my neck, marking me with her anger and lust as I draw an orgasm from her, not easing from fucking her with my fingers.
“So full,” she says, sucking in a breath.
I don’t ease up, not until she tenses and comes so beautifully apart for me, whimpering as her pussy coats my fingers in her juices.
After she rides the last of her orgasm, I slip my fingers out and raise them to my lips to suck them dry. “Delicious.”
She rolls onto her side, giving me the silent treatment. It almost makes me chuckle, remembering how spoiled she is and how, when things don’t go her way, she behaves like a brat. Fine by me. I will treat her as such.
“Oh baby, you really love to madden me.”
She fluffs her pillow with more force than necessary. “In case it’s not clear, it’s good night.”
“No thank you?” I egg her on, smirking, anticipating her explosive reaction.
One second. Two. Th––
“Fuck you, Vian. I’m not some doll––”
Before she can finish her rant, I move on top of her, gripping her wrists and pinning her hands above her head.
She wriggles under me, which only makes me harder, and she yells into the pillow. “Bastard.”
The first slap connects with her ass before she can even comprehend the situation.
“Oh my God, did you just spank me?” She lifts her face, narrowing her eyes on me. They glow a fierce brown.
Her negligee has ridden up to her waist, exposing her peachy ass, ripe and beautiful for a bite, causing instant hunger.
I smack her other cheek while she squirms beneath me to no avail. She keeps cussing, but I won’t stop until she learns her lesson and her tirade ends.
By the tenth, she welcomes my palm, moaning as she lifts her ass for another one. Her eyes well up, empty of any troubles, and her ass is red and warm under my palm, wearing a visible print.
I place kisses over her surely sensitive ass and slide between her legs, finding her wet. “Look at you enjoying your punishment.”
She’s about to say something when I grip her thighs. “Now comes the pleasure.”
That shuts her up, and I flick my tongue over her clit. She fists the mattress as I lick her from bottom to top, not using my fingers, but digging them into her flesh to keep her spread for me.
“What is this madness?” she says, abandoning herself to pleasure.
“Tell me what you are thinking about.”
“Nothing. Sweet nothingness.”
“Good. Now let me send my woman straight to euphoria. I’ll be there to catch you.”
I don’t stop until she’s a moaning, whimpering mess who calls on God while she’s tongue-fucked by the devil himself. Alternating between sucking on her swollen folds, biting into her engorged clit, and lapping at her slit, I devour her with teeth and tongue.
The sounds she produces are a symphony of moans, a crescendo that leaves her breathless.
I don’t stop even after she comes with my name falling from her lips, dragging her orgasm out until she’s about to faint, only to grip her chin and kiss her senseless so she can taste my desperation and her release.
In the wake of her orgasm, nothing remains but sweet surrender.
She locks her arms around my neck and buries her face there. “I should hate you, Vian.”
I stiffen; the words hit too close when she adds, “But I can’t. God knows why…”
I brush my knuckles along her back and kiss her temple. “You’re mine, Zara.”
“You won’t rest until I am, so the sensible thing would be to give in, but I have nothing to offer. I’m beyond broken. I will probably die searching for answers. I won’t be a good wife or a mother because something holds me back. Not knowing owns me. You came too late,” she says, like an apology.
It leaves me wondering if confessing is the only way.
No. I refuse to believe that.