Chapter 24
Beatrice walked out of the shower naked, and it felt glorious. There was no need to cover herself as quickly as she could. No anxiety curled in her stomach. No one was waiting for her outside the door.
She wished Montrell was lying on the bed, but she was in her own room, not his. It was supposed to be her sanctuary, but she found herself considering a change in sleeping arrangements.
Her reflection moved in the mirror, capturing her gaze. She crossed to it, studying herself as she braided her wet hair. She felt beautiful, even with the scars flashing on her wrists as they moved. As she finished, she ran her fingers over the lines. No sense of guilt crashed over her. No feeling of shame. Instead she felt interesting tingles at her touch.
She slid her hand higher, over her biceps and to her shoulders. The sensation followed, raising goose bumps along her arms. Her breasts felt a little heavy.
She studied them in the mirror. The scars slashed in uneven patterns below her areolas. Her fingers traced those scars as well, soft, soothing motions that found each one. She imagined Montrell standing behind her, imagined his hands as the ones touching her. Each caress sent an answering throb down below.
Her legs shifted wider as she continued to explore. The skin of her breasts felt softer than everywhere else, then rough over the line of a scar before her skin felt silky again. The contrast was making her dizzy.
Montrell would be proud of her. He’d be calling her his good girl. As her fingers rubbed around her tightening areolas, she could almost hear his voice in her ear. She couldn’t prevent a soft moan from escaping her lips. Her fingers closed around the tips of her nipples and softly rolled, changing the slight throb to a full-blown ache.
Her legs felt too wobbly to keep going in front of the mirror, and her eyes shifted toward the door. She wondered if she should just run next door naked and leave the nightgown behind altogether tonight. Her gaze passed her nightstand, not registering that it looked different until after her gaze shifted past and then moved back.
She crossed to the small gift box that had been left there, a folded piece of paper propped on top of it. She reached for that first.
‘Let me hear you. – M’
She sank onto the bed, lifting the lid off the box. Inside was a bullet vibrator, similar to the one he’d used on her, but this one was pink. And with it came a small bottle of lube.
The vibrator was hard but also nice to touch, reminding her of Montrell’s cock against her hand. It wasn’t metal or cold, but it wasn’t warm yet either.
She thumbed it on in her hand. The steady vibration could be heard in the silence, but it wasn’t that loud.
Montrell wanted her to learn to pleasure herself. And he wanted to listen to her doing it.
The thought of him masturbating in his room to the sounds of her pleasure sent another throb to her pussy. She only wished she could watch him work his hand over his cock.
Beatrice fell back against her pillows, pulling her legs up on the bed. Her free hand returned to her breast, tightening on her nipple again. A slight tug made her gasp. It wasn’t loud enough to carry to the other room.
The bullet was still vibrating in her other hand. Curious, she brought it to her other nipple, brushing against it. The immediate zap of sensation through her body made her suck her breath in, and her torso arched into the sensation.
When she rested back on the bed, she was already panting. Closing her eyes and imagining it was Montrell’s hands, not her own, roving over her brought out a louder moan.
She could do this. Her hand reached for the lube. She would bring herself to orgasm. A few of them. Then, when she was lubed-up and satisfied, she’d go to Montrell. And she would take exactly what she wanted.
Despite the note Montrell had left with his gift to Beatrice, he avoided returning to his room. Or more because of it. Walking around the estate with an erection was what he deserved for picturing her moaning as she used the vibrator.
In case she was still experimenting, he tried to remain quiet as he closed his door behind him. The first time, she’d wrinkled her nose at the idea of getting lube on her hands. He hoped she’d changed her mind. He wanted her to enjoy herself.
Masturbating was the next step for her to retake control of her body. She should learn to bring herself to orgasm, no matter how desperately he wanted to do it for her.
When he stripped off his clothes, they dragged along his nerve endings. His erection appreciated its newfound freedom, jutting away from his body. He sucked in a breath, trying to hold out, but there was no way he was sleeping that night without bringing himself some relief.
He might not sleep anyway. Two nights shouldn’t have created a habit, but he didn’t like picturing himself in bed without her. He already missed holding her in his arms.
A muted moan came through the wall between their rooms. It was drawn out, as if she’d reached a climax. By the time the sound faded, his cock was beaded with precum, and he hadn’t even touched himself yet.
Montrell groaned as he collapsed on the bed, his hand gripping the base of his cock. A few quick jerks and he was sure he’d come. But hell, if all he would have tonight was the mental image of her head thrown back as she worked her gorgeous cunt with a vibrator, he was going to draw out his own pleasure.
Her moan echoed in his mind as he stroked himself without squeezing, keeping things gentle, like it was her hand touching him, her hand driving him to the brink.
When his palm guided over the head of his cock, he smeared the precum around it and let out his own moan. The wetness made him think of her mouth. His fingers tightened as he pumped down. He cursed at the surge of need, and forced his grip to loosen.
No more sounds came from her room. She had the habit of falling asleep after she orgasmed. That thought brought up the memory of how she had tasted at the restaurant. She’d arched her pussy to get more of his mouth and tongue. When he’d worked his fingers inside her, finding her G-spot as he sucked her clit, she’d fallen apart spectacularly, squirting on his beard.
He should have used the new G-spot toy on her that night. He so wanted to see if she would do that again.
Fuck, he was panting already, his cock aching and straining. His hand started to pump down, ready to finish it, but he forced himself to let go before he creamed his stomach.
Edging himself was going to make his orgasm even harder. Maybe then he would sleep.
It didn’t take much to bring him close again and again. His chest was heaving as he lay back on the bed, his cock stiffer than ever and pointed straight at the fucking ceiling.
His breathing was so harsh, he never heard the door open. The sudden dip in the mattress popped his eyes open.
Beatrice straddled his legs, her eyes locked on his straining cock.
“Bea,” he said, his voice so thick with need he barely understood it.
“Haven’t gotten there yet?” she asked. Her hand wrapped around his erection above his, slick with lube. He let his own hand drop away to give her space. It felt fucking amazing as she worked the lube toward his base, her touch light but not as light as he’d imagined. “I must not have been loud enough,” she murmured.
His mouth went dry as his balls tightened. He didn’t have the breath to explain he’d been drawing out his orgasm. Not with her touching him.
She had the gifted bottle of lube in her other hand, and he groaned when her grip left him to squeeze more out. The bottle protested at the end of her squeeze, as if it was empty.
The idea that she’d used it all, even if it was a small bottle, made him pant as she tossed it aside. His saliva came rushing back as her hand slathered him in even more lube, tightening as she slid toward his head and over, her fingertips brushing his slit.
“Naughty girl, don’t play with him.” Montrell’s eyes rolled back as she took his words to heart and gripped him tight. “I’m close. One good pump, and it’ll all be over.”
Instead of pumping, Beatrice leaned forward, bracing her weight on one hand as she slung a leg over him and held his cock steady. Before Montrell’s brain could think about anything besides how slick her cunt felt, the head of his cock had slipped inside of her.
His hands grabbed for her hips as he pressed his own into the bed so he wouldn’t arch deep like his greedy cock was begging. He never wanted to hurt her.
“Bea, wait.”
Her hand slapped his chest before her body began to rock, taking more of him in. “I’m through waiting. We’re consummating this marriage, Montrell.”
He was as big as he could get and, fuck, about to come. He held it back as she tried to take more of him inside. Even with all the lube, his big dick wouldn’t just slide in. Montrell cussed as his hand moved between them, finding her clit slick too.
He was too desperate to finesse it. “Don’t force it all at once.” He stroked a little above where she needed him, his big fingers less than exact, but he couldn’t let go of his focus not to come to concentrate on such delicate matters. He didn’t want to do that to her, didn’t want to come after barely getting inside her gorgeous cunt.
Beatrice rocked in frustration, stilling as the movement worked her clit against his finger.
“That’s it. Focus on what feels good.” Montrell swallowed as he shifted his touch slightly too low.
“But I want—” Beatrice gasped as her hips naturally followed where he led her.
“That’s my good girl.” He groaned as her hips loosened and her natural weight took more of him inside. “Close your eyes and feel.”
He kept up the praise, most of it not making much sense because more than half his attention was focused on every inch of his cock that she was working inside her sweet pussy.
Beatrice gasped as she rocked. Her fingers lifted to pluck at her beautiful tits. Her hips shifted, small movements that finally took all of him in.
“That’s it. Fuck, you feel so good.” He switched to strokes that worked her clit directly. “You’re so perfect. Go ahead and fall apart for me, Bea.” He closed his fingers in a light pinch. “Come all over my cock like a good girl.”
She cried out as she clenched around him.
“Oh, fuck! Yes, Bea, that’s it.” His hands moved to her hips to keep her as still as he could. He began cussing himself as her pulses peaked.
“Don’t come yet. Dammit, asshole, don’t you fucking come. Not yet. Don’t come.”
Beatrice giggled as she leaned forward, making him realize he’d been chanting out loud, and she hummed in her throat when he shifted inside her. Her wet and hungry mouth kissed him, trying to fracture his concentration.
“I want you to come, Montrell.”
He groaned as she lifted away from his mouth, her pussy squeezing him.
“Don’t be naughty,” he panted as his arms slid around her to help her rock.
Beatrice was doing that sexy humming again, her lube-slick hands bracing against his chest to help her shift back and forth. “Not naughty.” She moaned as she tested another rock. “Call me your good girl.”
Then she lifted her body.
Montrell cried out at the loss, his arms tightening around her as his hips thrust his cock into her descent. His back came off the bed, his head falling forward into her breasts as he came harder and longer than he’d ever come before. The feel of her all around him blew his mind as well as his load.
His lips grazed her breast when it was over, and he held her tight. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he murmured, snuggling where he was. Her breasts cushioned his head perfectly. “Fuck, that felt amazing.”
Beatrice’s hands gripped his face, raising it so she could look into his eyes. “I could feel you come inside me,” she told him. Then she took his mouth, her tongue thrusting inside.
He rolled her to her back, hitching her leg around his hip so they wouldn’t be separated. “Is this okay?” he asked, staring down into her eyes. “I’m not too heavy?”
Her arms danced over his biceps as her legs curled around his ass. “I like how big you are.”
Her words made him hitch her body closer, his not-yet-softened cock loving still being inside her.
“I’m just sad it’s over.” Her hands continued to skim, sending sensation shuddering through his body. “I like being this close to you.”
Montrell didn’t explain that he just needed a few minutes to recuperate. He might have been a one-pump chump—fuck, he really had come with the first thrust—but he was nowhere near ready to tap out.
His cum would make her slicker. The thought of his cum inside her already had his erection bouncing back.
He bent down to her ear. “Let me take care of you.”
“I’ve already orgasmed a few times.” That she could flush with embarrassment while he was buried inside her was so fucking adorable.
He kissed her reddened chest. “There can never be enough for you.” His hand slipped between them. He stroked where his cock still stretched her.
“Oh,” she gasped, her eyes closing to slits. As his fingers continued to touch, she arched into him, trapping his hand.
“I’ll make you feel even better. I promise.” He waited for her body to relax before he repeated the caress. Her every expression made him want to both draw out the sensation and send her screaming over the edge. She audibly loved it when he brushed over the hood of her clit. Little back-and-forth strokes made her breathless. He debated leaving her on the crest so he could send her over with his cock, but he hadn’t proven she could orgasm that way yet. He stroked over her clit firmly in the direction she liked best. Her lips parted on another gasp instead of the moan he craved.
“That’s my good girl,” he said in her ear, nipping at it and then at her neck. His cock loved how her pussy squeezed around it when she came. He was erect inside her again and straining to hold back.
Beatrice’s limbs loosened, her legs no longer clasping his ass but falling to either side of his hips. She snuggled her face into his chest before giving his nipple a soft bite. Her carefree sensuality caused his hips to rock forward.
Her head fell back and her eyes opened. “Montrell?” she asked. Her hips wriggled, and he hissed out a breath as his need clawed at him.
“Need me to pull out?” he asked.
His body wanted to riot. He hadn’t even made love to her yet, and the need to thrust into her over and over again was becoming almost desperate. Too desperate.
Beatrice wrapped her arms around his neck. “No. Don’t leave me yet.”
He shifted his hips backward and then forward between her thighs, the thrust as controlled as he could manage. It felt like bliss, but nowhere near enough.
“This okay?” He tried to breathe through the second thrust. “Any pain?”
“No.” She tried to lift into his next thrust, but bit her lip.
“Bea?” Her name came out as more of a moan. He forced his body to still. “Tell me the truth, baby. Do we need to stop?”
Her face wasn’t showing any pleasure. He pulled out before she could answer; he didn’t need an answer.
“Please, Montrell,” Beatrice called through the ringing in his ears. She tried to drag him back down. “I’m not in pain.”
“I’m not going to hurt you with my cock.” His voice was harder than he wanted it to be, but his body was urging him back inside her. The control it took not to made a tremor run through him.
“Look at me.” Beatrice grabbed his cheeks over his beard, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “You’re not hurting me. I’m just tired! I want to lie there and let you fuck me and not do a damn thing, and I feel awful about it.”
“What?” He wanted that too. “Why awful?”
Her eyes shifted away. “Because it’d be better for you if I were more of a participant. Wouldn’t it?” Her shoulders hunched as her eyes closed. “He always told me—”
Montrell captured the words. It was selfish of him, but he didn’t want the Albanian in bed with them this time. He took his time kissing her, hoping it would help him find some restraint. When he lifted his head, her eyes had gone slitted again, and she looked like she wanted to collapse to the bed. “Lie back.”
As she obeyed, he reached for more lube. He might as well reapply. The head of his cock glistened from being inside her. He kept his touch light as he slathered more lube on anyway.
Crawling between her thighs gave him a head rush. He captured her legs, pushing them up between them until he trapped them against his chest with his weight. Then he braced one hand beside her and used the other to guide his thick cock where it belonged.
The head slipped in easily enough, and he let his hand drop away, looking into her now-wide eyes.
“Any concerns?” he asked, rocking more of him inside. “Pain? Panic?”
“N-None,” she gasped, her body shaking as she took more of him. “I can’t…”
“No, you can’t move.” His hips pushed every inch of his erection inside her. “You’re just going to lie there and take my cock like a good girl.”
Her eyes squeezed shut as she shuddered, her chest flushing an amazing pink.
Montrell groaned as his body urged him to get on with it. “I’m going to fuck you now.” His voice came out strained. “I might lose control, but if you don’t like it, if it’s too much”—he swallowed—”just say stop and I will. You can stop this at any time.”
Her eyes opened, meeting his. Her hand found his cheek, cupping it. “You’re mine. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Yes. I’m yours.” He rocked inside her, desperately needing to thrust but also needing to wait to hear her next words.
“Then give me all of you. Let go, Montrell.”
He let out a broken sound as he thrust into his wife. He used his upper body weight to hold her still so he wouldn’t fuck her right off the bed. Her cunt was warm and slick and felt like heaven as he filled her again and again. She gasped as he bottomed out, forcing her to take him completely, but it wasn’t a gasp of pain. She didn’t ask him to stop. With each deep thrust, her body shuddered.
He lost any rhythm, his balls slapping against her ass and making his eyes cross as she pulsed around his cock in an orgasm.
“Fuck! Yes!” he shouted. She’d come. She’d come just from his cock.
And suddenly it was too much, and he was buried deep inside her, right where he wanted to be, and he cried out as her greedy cunt sucked every last drop of his cum from him.
He collapsed on top of her. He continued to brace himself with his arms, but her legs were squished between them as he tried to find even an ounce of strength to leave her. One more minute, he promised himself as his hand moved to stroke the side of her smooshed breast.
When his cock flexed inside of her, enjoying the sensation of being there, he roused himself enough to pull out, relieved when it hung limp against his thigh. Then he gathered her in his arms.
“Not done?” she asked in such a sexily sated voice that he nearly tripped. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she snuggled against him.
Montrell brushed a kiss over her hair. “You should try to pee. Then I’ll wash you before we sleep.”
Her head snapped up, almost decking him. “You want me to pee?”
He kissed her nose. “Best habit after sex to prevent UTIs.”
Her giggle was the most amazing sound in the world. “That’s so not romantic.”
He froze in the bathroom doorway. His arms tightened around her, and her eyes lifted to his. “I love you, Bea.”
She stiffened in his arms.
“I think I loved you back when we were engaged, but the feeling is so much stronger now. I love your spirit, and your stubbornness, and the way your mind works, and yes, the way you fall apart when I touch you. Anything in this world that you want, I want to give it to you. When I said I’m yours, I meant all of me. Including my heart.”
She made a choked sound before leaning in and touching his lips with hers. “I love you, too, Montrell. I never want to let you go.”
“Then hold on tight.”
Her arms gripped his neck, but as he moved the last step into the bathroom, they loosened.
“Maybe not to pee,” she said with a blush.
Montrell laughed as he kissed her pinkened cheek. He was so fucking happy, and he was going to hold on to that feeling for as long as he lived.