Thirty #2
“It’s infantilizing and derogatory.”
“No, it’s not. It’s protective and possessive.”
She lowers her gaze. “I…” Her eyes come up again, this time earnest. “Do I push too much?”
“No, my sweet. You push just enough to be you. Don’t overthink it.”
“Will you tell me if I do?”
“No, but I’ll spank your pussy.”
“Oh. Uh… of course you will.” She bites at her lip. “Then… no, I don’t hate it when you call me a good girl. And yes, I’ll be a good girl but only because my legs are going numb.”
What a beautiful response. My heart swells, and some of my earlier doubts fade away. Earlier, she didn’t answer my question, but now I wonder if I wrongly assumed the worst.
I pull the slips on the knots, letting the ropes fall. “I’m going to take your cuffs off too, because I want to feel your hands.” I grip her jaw firmly in my fingers and give it a little shake. “But if you disobey me, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
“I once told you I’d never obey you,” she says. “Do you think I should?”
“Yes.” It’s not even a question. I lean over her, tugging open the buckle on one cuff then the other.
She slips her hands free, and before I can catch and pin them, she runs them up my arms to my shoulders.
I wasn’t expecting that. I shudder in pleasure, closing my eyes, my cock twitching.
Just that touch, and my control is fraying, like I’m eighteen years old again.
No one has ever affected me like she does.
It takes me a moment to steady my breathing. If she keeps reaching for me like this, I’ll give her the world and everything in it.
“Dangerous,” she mutters. “After all, I hardly know you, husband.”
I draw in a sharp breath. It’s not just that word on her lips, it’s that she doesn’t believe she knows me. A double hit, each one different. “You will, soon.”
Will she be disappointed? It’s not like me to have doubts.
I push them away; this isn’t the time. I have my wife beneath me, and it’s our wedding day.
My hand slips between us, running through her wetness. Her eyes flick wide, then close as she turns her head.
“I’m claiming your obedience now.”
“I’m offering it willingly,” she breathes.
Fuck. I shudder, clinging to the shreds of my control.
Hearing that, I couldn’t be harder for her, and I need to be inside her right now.
“Spread your legs wider.”
She complies at once, lifting her knees again, and her willingness makes my heart flip. She’s not restrained, she’s not being forced. Is this the first time she’s allowed me access to her without some degree of persuasion? I think it is.
I take my cock in my hand, pushing into her slowly.
That first stretch pulls a groan from me, and it’s echoed by her high, muffled gasp.
I pause, letting her adjust, then draw back and push forward again, this time with my weight behind it.
My cock slides in like she’s made for me, her flesh parting at my penetration.
Every time, it’s better than I remember, like we belong like this.
“Be gentle please,” she murmurs. “I’m sensitive.”
I go still. Did she really ask that? And like that, with that pleading, begging tone that calls to the sadist in me and just makes me want to fuck her harder?
She’s not wrong; she doesn’t know me very well. Or maybe she does, and her pushing has become subtler.
“Gentle,” I echo. “Right…”
I brace myself with a hand either side of her, gazing down into her upturned face with a smile playing on my lips. She notices immediately, brow furrowing, mouth open to say something, and I thrust into her.
“…Fuck…” she cries, eyes flicking wide then closing, whatever was originally on her lips gone for good.
I pull back slow, then drive into her again, tensing with the effort and the pleasure of it. I think we both shudder.
“This is… gentle?” she breathes.
“I told you I’d give you what you need, not what you want.”
Amelia grips my shoulders as I build my rhythm, her eyelids flickering. Her mouth is slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with each breath. I want to play with her breasts, but I need to brace myself. When we’re done here, I’m going to have her on top.
Her pussy clenches around me as she lets slip a moan, and I know she’s close already. I adjust my hips, thrusting so that I rub over her g-spot, and the reaction is immediate. She tenses beneath me, her fingers digging in, her gasps of pleasure almost silent as her orgasm arrives.
I want to see her emotions. “Look at me.”
A slight shake of her head. “I… can’t.”
“Obedience, Little Stray. Try.”
Her eyes flicker open, liquid and so beautiful, and she does so well keeping them open as I thrust into her again.
Her lips draw my attention, and I can’t resist leaning in for a kiss.
Her eyes close immediately, but I let her because her tongue is responding to mine, and she moans into my mouth.
A single deep kiss and she’s on the edge again, legs gripping me tight, drawing me deeper into her.
“Look at me,” I remind her.
She forces her eyes open with a whimper of submission, and it pulls right at my soul. This woman is my everything.
Part of me wonders if I’m in love with her. But no, it’s too early for that. Obsessed, yes. Certainly in lust. But love?
No, it’s not too early. I know her enough already. There’s so much to love, and I do love her. The realization hits softly, a recognition of something that’s been building since that first night. Comfortable contentment eases my shoulders, and my rhythm falters for one unguarded second of wonder.
What is this, happiness? It’s been absent for… too long.
No wonder my smiles are coming more easily.
I’m fleetingly tempted to tell her, but I don’t. I know my Little Stray well enough that she won’t believe such a declaration, especially with my cock buried to the hilt inside her body.
“I love… watching you come for me,” I whisper to her instead, and grind against her. Her hips squirm, her eyes falling closed, and her body goes taut. I lean in, kissing her through her orgasm, and she sobs into my mouth, tongue as eager as it’s ever been.
“Six,” I say, drawing out the word in satisfaction.
“I think it’s… nine,” she breathes. “Or ten. Or a hundred.”
“You’re making me jealous.”
“Suck it up, you bastard.” She moans, pussy rippling around me. “It’s… too much.”
“No, it’s not,” I say through the effort of moving within her. “You’re going to come for me again and again.”
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails pricking my skin. “What if I can’t?”
I lean down and kiss her, then lick away the tears seeping through her clenched eyes, the salt sharp on my tongue. “What if I don’t give you a choice?”
She shudders beneath me, crying out, coming immediately. I don’t know if it was the kiss or my words. She’s gripping me so tight I have to brace my arms and put real work in, and she’s milking my cock, drawing my own orgasm sooner than I wanted.
But that’s fine. We have all day, and I want her full of my cum in every hole, so that she knows who her husband is.
I wonder how far her obedience will go when I tell her to turn over and pour oil onto her ass, and the thought is enough to push me over the edge. I release inside her with a shuddering breath, and she cries out as she feels it. I’m certain she came again, and we’ve both lost count.
It doesn’t matter. All that matters is my seed filling her, marking her as mine, and the way she writhes beneath me, welcoming every drop.
Tomorrow, I’m going away, and I haven’t even told her yet. But I must ensure the Volkovs stay the fuck away from me and mine.
I push the thought aside, leaning down to kiss her and she rises to meet me, arms snaking around my neck, pulling me closer as her mouth opens, and as our tongues collide, I’m not sure which one of us is moaning. Both, probably.
That’s how it should be between us.