Chapter 21 #2
“If you opened that smart mouth of yours. That’s right.” A palm squeezes my ass cheek. “It seems your mouth is always getting you into trouble, wife.”
Then before I can even defend myself, he hooks his arm around my stomach, scooping me up in the air, seating himself on the sofa, and throwing me onto his lap as I yelp.
“What are you doing?!”
I try to wriggle out, but his forearm presses into my back while his other hand yanks down my bikini bottom, exposing me.
“I’m going to show you how much of a brother I’m not.”
His bulge presses into my stomach as I welcome the pulsing need in my core. Because even as I fight him, even as I try to fruitlessly break free, I want his fingers to touch me, to make me feel the wanton hunger that seeps through my veins when I’m with him.
My body begs for a man I shouldn’t want. Yet I do. I want this, no matter how depraved I feel for wanting it.
His hand caresses my ass cheek while I stifle my moans of pleasure, grinding over his knee with desperation.
Heat burns my cheeks, my breathing growing shallow, my nails clawing at his calf. I try not to make a sound, not to show him how much I’m enjoying this, but I slip as I groan.
He growls with satisfaction as his palm strikes hard against my behind. Skin meets skin, the sound echoing like thunder.
“Ahh!” A strangled cry twists out of me.
“How many times should I spank you for what you’ve done? Hmm?” He massages my flesh, like my body is his to manipulate as he wishes.
But I can’t answer. Words don’t come, only the sounds of my pleasure fire through me. My clit pulses with fervor the more he palms my ass, forcing me deeper into his rigid length. I know he’s doing this on purpose. Torturing me. Showing me who’s in control.
“Once,” I whisper out the answer, lying to the both of us.
Because I hope he doesn’t stop there. I want the pain and pleasure. I want it all.
My eyes capture a glimpse of him over my shoulder, finding the look of both man and beast, someone too far gone to stop. His cock is thick and hard, his eyes a fiery mess of emotions. It’s like he wants to punish me with orgasms until I break. Until I cry actual tears.
Please. With you is the only way I seem to have them.
“Once?” He chuckles, spanking me even harder this time.
I cry out, gyrating my hips over him, pinching my knees shut. The ache…it’s so strong. My stomach tenses with knots or loosens with swirling butterflies. I don’t even know. I feel everything at once. All I want—no, all I need—is for him to make this throbbing pain go away.
“Please…” I beg.
The shame of that one word, to beg a man for this…it fills me with disgust, yet I crave it all at once. It feels too good to be at his mercy, to lose the control, but to have it at the same time. He won’t hurt me. Not like they did.
“I think I’ll add a one in front of that number,” he labors with a breath, his palm striking me again.
I gasp, my skin on fire.
“Count,” he demands as my body jolts around him. “Count!” His growl rumbles through his chest. “Count every time I mark this beautiful ass and remember this pain the next time you even think of letting another man near you.”
He spanks me again as I wince, my pussy rubbing up against his thigh, the friction causing me to grow slicker. I can feel my clit roaring with an orgasm I desperately fight for, the need spreading down my legs, up my spine.
“Three.” I shudder.
“How does it feel to be punished by your husband? To be spread open and held down like a little slut?”
The sounds coming out of me no longer sound human. Those words—this feeling—it’s too good.
Put your fingers inside me. Make me feel even better.
But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I count as another slap comes over my other cheek. Then another.
“Five.” I flinch while he continues to assault my skin, now raw and burning.
I count again and again until I can feel myself dripping out and onto him. The need to come becomes almost barbaric.
My cheeks heat, not with shame, but from the burst of pain and pleasure filling me.
“Ten.” A loud moan slips out, my hips grinding over him.
Faster and faster, the pulsing beat of my arousal washes over me in waves of warmth.
“Fuck,” he grunts under his breath, his fingers dipping down my ass cheek, pressing them into that spot where my core meets my thigh.
“Yes,” I gasp, wriggling, trying to get his fingers to slip inside me.
“Were you going to show them this ass?” his voice husks out seductively, and it forces another pant from me.
“Yes! I—I mean no.”
I don’t even know what I’m saying. I just want him to keep touching me.
“Yes?” His growl is damn near diabolical as a finger swipes in through my slit and my hands curl. “Were you going to show them this perfect pussy too?”
“Oh my God…” I groan. “No, Michael. No…”
I drive myself into his thigh, needing to be fucked.
Just when I think he’s finally going to touch me and let me come, a palm strikes me one last time.
“Eleven,” I gasp, my ass arching, my chest rising higher and higher, my heart thumping against my rib cage.
I try to get up, but he forces his forearm into my back, keeping me his willing hostage.
“Who said you were allowed to move?”
A whimper crawls out of me while I wait to see what else he'll do. My entire body is alive with a current, like I’m electrified. Like one touch and I will burst. God, I need this so badly.
His large hand rolls down my ass again, a single finger inching closer to my pussy.
“Yes…”
I groan as he runs two fingers over my swollen lips, pressing them together, tighter, until my clit rubs against them.
“Please, Michael,” I huff, my body trembling.
“Shall I check how wet my wife is?”
Oh, God, the dirty talk is only making my clit thud, pleading for him inside me.
“No,” I cry, but really I mean yes.
But he knows what I like. What I need.
“That’s too bad.” He pinches my soaked lips, and the sensation to my clit sends a shudder down my spine. “This is my pussy. And I get to play with it.”
He forces my thighs open with a palm against the inside of them, but I fight the intrusion, my body jerking as I try to keep them closed. He’s stronger, though, his claim on me ruthless.
I bow my ass up, desperate, needy, and ready to shatter.
Then he’s there, a fingertip slipping into my intimate place, dipping inside, then flicking around my clit.
“Goddamn, you’re dripping. That’s how wet you are from my palm. For my cock.”
He dips a finger inside, letting go of my back. He uses that hand to grab a fistful of my hair, bending me to his eyes.
“You will never let another man touch you or look at you bare.”
While I’m married to him, right? That’s what he means?
He adds another finger, driving them inch by inch until he hits me deep.
“Michael, please…” My brows knit, a knot of desire almost bursting inside me.
“Say it,” he demands, his thrusts powerful enough to have me screaming his name. “You’re going to say it.” His voice thunders deep in his chest, his gaze cutting into mine.
I welcome the look of his dark, hooded eyes. Crave it like my soul’s on fire.
“I…”
He fucks me harder until I can barely hold on, until I almost fall. “Yes…oh, God!”
Almost there. Almost… But then he slows.
“No! No! Please don’t stop.” I snap a hand to his thigh. “I will never…Michael!”
I try to finish the sentence, but oh, God…he slams his fingers inside me again, giving me no mercy, ramming deeper, again and again.
“You keep saying my name like that, and I’m going to force you to your knees and pry your mouth open until you swallow every inch of my cock.”
“Mm,” I whimper, rubbing myself on him as he fingers me rough.
“Finish that sentence,” he demands, moving easily through me. I don’t even need to touch myself to know how wet I am.
He pistons into me, hitting that spot that is ready to make me spill. “I will...never…allow another man to touch me or look at me because I—I’m yours.”
Then suddenly, he stops.
“Michael, please,” I beg with gasping breaths, my body pleading to be released of this brutal agony.
His hands are no longer on me.
“Get up and get dressed for dinner,” he says sternly.
My body feels like jelly. I can’t seem to move.
“Michael…” I whimper.
He can’t do this to me. I need this. But no other words come out.
Gently, he brings me to my feet, hands against my thighs as he lifts my bottoms up securely around me.
The back of his hand nudges my chin up to meet his eyes. The hunger…it’s still within them, calling for me.
He pulls to his height, towering over me, and he bends lower, until our lips trace over one another’s, breath to breath. He brings those fingers that were just inside me near both our mouths.
“Lick them clean,” he instructs, drawing back and pushing them into my willing mouth.
And as I lock his gaze to mine, I suck my arousal until there’s nothing. He pulls his fingers away, a small, satisfied smirk tilting up his mouth.
“You won’t touch yourself.” He cups my center, a dark glint within his eyes. “You’ll feel this pussy ache until I decide to grant you relief. Do you understand me?”
But he doesn’t have to tell me that, because I couldn’t even if I tried. He doesn’t realize that in all the years of torment, he’s been the first man to bring me pleasure. And without him, I won’t be able to get myself off. I haven’t touched myself since before I was taken.
“Yes,” I croak a barely there response.
“Good girl.” His chest expands with a weighty sigh. “Don’t make me do that again. It hurts both of us.”
His hand grips my jaw, his labored breaths, the lustful gaze setting me ablaze. His brows bend with emotions tugging at his features.
“But you needed to be taught that, real wife or not, you belong to me. Every inch of you is mine, little dove. And don’t you forget it.”
Then he gives me his back, strutting out the door and leaving me frustrated and alone.
But I should be used to feeling that way by now.