65. Ep Cade
Ep Cade
“Keep ‘em there unless you want me to stop.” I watch her hands pressing the headboard, fluttering every time I drag the riding crop down over her thighs.
This was her idea and it still makes me nervous when she asks.
The things I do for this woman because I’m madly, deeply, and forever in love with her makes me question my own morals.
She said Evelyn called it ‘aversion’ therapy.
I think my horny wife is liking exploring letting go.
With a flick of my wrist, I pop the leather strap to smack behind her knee.
Her moan and wiggle of her hips is instant, even as I drag my fingers over the fresh pink blemish.
“I’m going to have to spank you harder if you keep enjoying this,” I growl. My free hand drops to my cock, stroking myself while watching her grind against the bedding.
As if to instigate me, she raises her throaty groan.
“Naughty girl.” Snapping the tip again makes a pop, punctuated by her gasp and the sound of her nails scraping the wood.
I’m just about to raise the handle again when her arm moves away from its spot.
“Ros? Too much?” My voice cracks as I reach to rub the newest mark.
Her giggle surprises me. “I’m fine. There’s just one of these pillows wedged against my belly and your son does not like it.
” When she rolls on her side, she exposes her extended abdomen that was nested between the downy padding.
She shoves one further under her hips, then reassumes her position with both sets of fingers pressing the headboard.
My laughter makes her grin over her shoulder at me, despite the bright red marks I’ve sprinkled across her thighs and ass.
“I’m ready to be punished.” She pokes her butt higher into the air, muffling more giggles into the mattress.
“If you weren’t already pregnant, I’d put a baby in you for that one.” I can’t take it anymore and crawl onto the bed, straddling one of her knees. Gripping her other leg, I turn her until her ankle rests against my neck.
I can’t resist flattening my palm over her swollen belly. I didn’t know I’d love her being heavy with my baby as much as I do.
It does something in me at a visceral level. And maybe I’m not like other men but the stretch lines add another level of beauty to her dappled skin.
Marks of our love that mute and dilute the scars of her past.
“My gorgeous wife,” I grunt as I push into her.
Her back arches with a gasp as her nails leave the headboard to rake along my chest, adding her own brand to the patterns there.
Every stripe, every pucker is a testament to the hell we crawled through to find each other. The torture we both endured, that should have broken us, has taught us to appreciate even more the happiness that we’ve found.
Together.