44. Willow
Days flew by, and so did the weeks.
Our family and friends left last week, and we resumed our honeymoon leaving the harbor and sailing the seas. Cape Horn was next on the map and so far it had been smooth sailing. According to Royce, who’d been monitoring weather patterns obsessively, it looked like we’d have to take over from autopilot soon, and consider disembarking before the sea became too violent.
Bottom line, if I wanted to get laid, tonight was the night.
I caught a final glance at the mirror, at the sex goddess in a see-through emerald babydoll lingerie staring back at me, and I made my way out of the bathroom. Royce was laid out in nothing but his sweats, his upper torso on full display as he scrolled on his iPad.
I watched him with longing, the need to touch him equating that of breathing.
“Hello, handsome.”
He looked up from his iPad and his gaze burned like an open flame as I closed the distance between us.
“What are you up to, baby?”
I smiled innocently, pressing a knee on the bed, then crawling my way to him. My lips brushed against his jaw and his muscles pulled taut.
“Are you tired, Mr. Ashford?” I rasped against his skin.
“Willow, you need to rest and recover.” His voice was rough against my skin.
“I’m rested and recovered,” I assured him, the storm in his eyes reflecting his internal conflict. I kissed my way up his jaw to the corner of his mouth. “I ache for you.”
A shudder rolled through him and our mouths met in a passionate, hungry kiss. I wanted him feral.
Dominant.
As if he could taste my desire, he ordered in a low, husky voice, “Reach out and put your hands together.” I scrambled to follow his order. “Like you’re praying.”
“Will you be my priest?” I teased, doing as instructed, a throbbing ache in my core anticipating what he had in store for me.
He produced a silky tie from the bedside table and fastened it around my wrists. My eyes flew to his, full of questions and lust.
“Patience is a virtue,” he drawled lazily while I knelt there, bared and vulnerable to him, but I’d never felt safer. Moisture pooled between my thighs, slicking my skin.
“Easy for you to say,” I retorted dryly, my tone breathless. “Meanwhile I’m over here wondering if you’re going to whip me or fuck me.”
“Why not both,” he said with a devilish smile. “Now slide off the bed.” I was on my feet before he could finish the sentence. One of his hands lowered between my thighs, gliding it over my drenched core. “Your pussy doesn’t seem to mind the idea.”
I burned hotter with each passing second, my thighs clenching greedily for more of whatever he had in store for me. It didn’t matter that I was his toy, completely at his mercy, because Royce always delivered.
He always took care of me, even before we became lovers. It was my turn to give him anything he wanted. The submission. The release. The oblivion.
“Test the binding.” His fingers kept teasing my clit, and a moan bubbled in my throat at the delicious friction. “I want to make sure they’re not uncomfortable.”
I attempted to pull my wrists apart, but there was no discomfort, only silk brushing against my flesh.
“They’re good,” I breathed.
He took my wrists, leading me over to the four-poster bed. Everything from the black oak to the crimson sheets screamed carnal pleasure.
“Bend over and use the post for support.”
Without hesitation, I did as he bid and my whole body purred with satisfaction upon hearing his hummed “Good girl.”
I grasped the post, curling my fingers around it, then glanced over my shoulder, my breaths coming out in soft pants. “Is this okay?”
“Lower,” he rasped, his eyes meeting mine. “Good job.” I sighed, getting in position, bent over and my ass grinding against him. His palm rubbed my butt cheek affectionately. “Don’t let go of the post. If you do, I’ll spank you. Understand?”
I wiggled my ass against him, barely stifling a giggle. “Yes, sir.”
He smacked my ass—hard—and I yelped. Another came soon after, the smack of his palm against my ass loud but painless.
His lips curved into a smile matching the dark expression etched on his beautiful face.
“Part your legs.” His hands came to my hips, and he pushed my legs apart with his muscular thighs as he positioned himself against me. He reached up with one hand, trailing it down my spine affectionately. Then he bent down, his chest against my back, and peppered kisses on my sensitive skin. “Ready?”
My response was a moan. I was more than ready. With his free hand, he reached around to my front, palming my breast and tugging on my nipples. We’d barely gotten started and I was already trembling against him.
“Hold tight.” He grabbed my hips. “This is going to be hard and fast, baby.” I remained quiet, bracing myself for the wild ride, when he yanked my hair back and wound it around his wrist. “What’s our safe word?” he whispered, his mouth next to my ear.
“Pineapple.”
I could feel his hard cock against my slick entrance. He pushed me facedown against the plush duvet and slammed inside me with a single powerful thrust, jolting me forward.
I cried out, my eyes watering at the sensation, my inner muscles clutching his length greedily.
“You can take it, baby,” he purred, his tone guttural. “That pussy was made for me, just like my cock was made for you.”
Fuck, his words were enough to unravel me.
My breaths came out in small pants and I pushed back at him, desperate for more friction. He held on to my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh while he eased out of me slowly until only the tip of his shaft remained inside me.
Then he slammed into me again so hard it knocked the breath out of my lungs and my grip on the post loosened.
“Hold on, Willow,” he gritted through clenched teeth when my hands loosened around the post. I gripped it harder and pushed back against him as he fucked me mercilessly.
I whimpered, my mind blanking at the forceful invasion as absolute pleasure burst through me. My body shuddered with each punishing thrust that coaxed squeals out of my mouth.
“You’re taking every inch of me so good,” Royce grunted. “My beautiful wife.”
His hand remained on my hip while the other pressed against my back, forcing my face deeper into the mattress, muffling my noises. There was nothing but mind-numbing pleasure and pain—a combination I never imagined I’d crave.
The bed knocked against the wall, and I could feel a gathering deep inside me—an electric shiver matching the rhythm of his thrusts.
He yanked my head back and another cry fell from my lips.
“Don’t stop,” I cried. Royce continued to move roughly against me, in me, his breathing harsh, moaning, groaning. “Please… please…”
Sweat gathered at my temple and along my neck, and my inner walls fluttered around his cock.
Another thrust and my body exploded, a hoarse scream shattering through the air. The need—so unfamiliar and dark—coiled beneath my skin, tearing me apart at the seams. I exploded into a million sparks, spiraling until there was nothing left.
It was just him and me.
I looked back as Royce fucked me through my orgasm. He stilled, groaning, his beautiful face twisted with the same pleasure I felt as he finished inside of me.
He trailed kisses over my heated skin, whispering words of praise, before taking my chin between his fingers and kissing me deeply.
“I love you, Mrs. Ashford,” he said with a soft, relaxed smile that soaked through me like sunshine on a foggy day. “You are the best part of me.”
“Good,” I panted, my voice breathless. “Because you’ve always been the best part of me.”