Chapter 27
Cecilia
I've changed into my nightgown, my short hair still a little damp from not blow-drying it enough. I was too nervous to finish the job.
Even now, I can’t stop the rush of blood from flooding my cheeks.
Because there, beyond this bathroom door, waits my husband—my handsome, irresistible devil whom I’ve never spent the night with before.
That day, on the highway out of San Maleno, he told me about his preferences, about the dark, delicious things he indulges in when it comes to sex.
Things he didn’t think I’d be interested in—spanking, choking, filling me with his cum.
My breath floundered when he uttered the words.
I shuddered then, and I still shudder now, though it’s for two entirely different reasons.
Before I knew him, I hated not knowing what he had in store for me.
He intrigued me, yes, but he also frightened me.
Now, his chaos and unpredictable nature are the very things that breathe new life into me.
“I can do this,” I whisper, mustering the courage to crack the bedroom door open just a little.
My eyes light on his dark silhouette by the window, hands in the pockets of his slacks like he’s deeply lost in thought.
For a second, I think that, maybe, he’s changed his mind.
But then he turns to me, slowly, deliberately, and the resolution in his gaze tells me that’s out of the question.
He wants this. And he wants it now.
“Where…um…where do you want me?” I ask, my voice softer than intended. “On which side of the bed?” A dark smile spreads on his lips, and I wince a little when I realize how my question sounded.
“Neither. Sit on the edge, facing the fireplace.” His voice is different now. Stern. He doesn’t ask me what I want this time, and I have a feeling this is the way it’s going to be when it comes to this part of our relationship. For some reason, I don’t mind it at all.
“From now on, you’ll only do what your husband asks.” How effortless it was to agree to that in the bridal store. Even then, when I still thought I hated him.
I walk over to the bed and haul myself up on the edge, my feet dangling and my nightgown riding up a little. I wonder what he wants to do, why ask me to sit here.
When I look at him for answers, his eyes swipe over my body, an insatiable hunger swimming in the depths of his green irises.
His breaths deepen, as if he’s forcing himself to take it slow, to be patient.
I see it in the way he walks, when he steps closer.
Closer. Until he’s right in front of me, and I have to crane my neck to see the sharp edges of his face.
“W-What now?” I ask, growing a little scared—not of him, but of the pain I heard comes with doing it for the first time. Of the blood, too. Again, he doesn’t answer, and my pulse rebels.
He lowers himself to one knee in front of me, inch by inch, my gaze glancing down with him until we’re at eye level. Bracing his arms on either side of my body, he cages me here, his warmth and smoky scent swirling around me like smooth ribbons, sensual and controlling.
“In this bedroom, there are three rules when we’re together,” he says, his voice like silken chaos skittering down my spine.
It controls my attention, my entire body attuned to the sound of him.
“Number one, you take all I give you. I will sometimes give you much more than you believe you can handle and push past what you think is possible. You can cry, and you can beg me to stop, but the only thing that will be able to save you is your safe word.”
I open my mouth to speak, but I have no idea what to say to that. I don’t think I can utter a single word right now. Down between my legs, a slow, persistent throb answers for me instead. He hasn’t touched me, hasn’t even kissed me, yet here I am, squirming in my seat to the tune of his commands.
“Number two, for this to work between us, you trust me completely—mind, body, and soul,” he continues. “If you’ll let me, I’ll care for you in ways you’ve never been cared for. Aftercare is non-negotiable. You’ll always get it, because you’ll always need it. I don’t take any of this lightly.”
“Lastly, rule number three.” He dips his head slightly, as if to emphasize its importance. “You are always in control. We’ll discuss your safe word in a moment. First, tell me you understand what I just told you. Because this isn’t a game, Lastochka, and once we begin, we won’t ever stop.”
I dart my tongue out to lick my bottom lip as I watch him, my heart pounding in my chest in a syncopated rhythm. He glances at the motion, and his jaw clenches, telling me just how much he wants us to start.
“I scared you,” he says.
I brush my hands down my naked thighs. “No. I trust you—fully. I just…don’t think I’ll know what to do. How to give you what you need.”
He glides a hand down my leg, capturing my foot and placing it on top of his knee, massaging it. His skin is warm, and the touch is electric, firm yet gentle, just like he is. The spot between my legs grows a little wetter.
“What did I say about the first rule?”
I look up, remembering. “You give. I take.”
“Correct. Which means what?”
“That you’ll…tell me what to do?”
“Good girl. What else? Tell me what scares you.”
His fingers continue to knead my foot, slowly, precisely, as if he knows exactly where to press to make me feel good. I melt into the touch, an accidental mewl getting past my lips. For a second, his movements stop, his Adam’s apple bobbing and his jaw clenching before he resumes.
“That feels good,” I say.
“Many things will feel good when you’re with me.”
I nod, having zero doubts about that. Every time he has ever touched me, it felt incredible. “What about pain? Will you ever…hurt me?” I ask, recalling the mentions of choking and spanking.
“Sometimes,” he admits. “When I punish you. But pain can very quickly turn into pleasure if done right. It’s why I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“And if I won’t?”
“Then you’ll stop me. You’ll give me your safe word, and I’ll stop.”
I bite my cheek. “And you won’t be…mad?”
He smiles. “Never. What do I always try to teach you?”
“To be brave and state what I want.”
He stops massaging my foot and captures my left ankle to bring it up on his knee.
In his hands, I feel small and powerless, but instead of scaring me, it makes my pussy flutter.
I want him to touch me. “How could I possibly get mad at you for stating a boundary? No, I will reward you greatly instead.”
I wait in silence, considering all the rules and everything he’s told me.
He doesn’t press me on it; he simply waits, stroking my foot with languid precision.
I’ve never seen him so composed, but I know him, and I expect him to detonate as soon as I give the green light, taking me into that blazing fire.
And I want it. So help me God, I want this man to ruin me, to cage me into his madness and bring us both to the edge of ecstasy.
My pussy is so wet, I can feel it when I shift my thighs, slippery and warm and ready for whatever he wants to do to it.
The throbbing turns to pounding, and the heat gets hotter to the point that I have to part my legs a little.
And he sees it—every subtle twitch of my muscles, he sees it, and he swallows, as if he knows exactly what’s waiting for him underneath my nightgown.
“Malachite,” I breathe out, drawing his attention back to my mouth. “Can that be my safe word?”
“A gemstone. It’s perfect, actually. When you need it, use it, and everything stops. That will be your only task for tonight.”
I nod, trembling a little when he lets go of my left foot. Just like I’d never been kissed before, I’ve never been alone and half-naked with a man. A man I’m in love with. A man whose touch I crave like my next breath of air. I just hope I won’t disappoint him.
His hands glide up my legs until they reach my soft thighs. I can’t help but whimper, closing my eyes, only to open them back a second later, when he gently pries them apart. Involuntarily, I press them back together.
He looks up, a question in those hooded eyes, and suddenly, I get why he asked me to come up with a safe word.
He knows exactly how inexperienced I am.
I take another deep breath, and I slowly open for him, grateful my nightgown is still covering my panties.
I’m so nervous, I can barely think straight.
“Good girl, Lastochka,” he murmurs, noticing the shaking in my limbs as his hands slip underneath my gown, all the way up to the crease between my thigh and my pussy.
His words soothe me, and I relax a little.
Judging by the endearing tone of his voice, I know there’s no way he’ll be disappointed by anything tonight.
His fingers pull at the straps of my panties until I feel the drag of the material down my legs. His gaze is focused, fascinated. Every movement is deliberate, as if he’s trying to reel back his impatience for my sake.
When his hands come back into view, my white lace is merely a tight string that hangs low around my ankles. Even if he hasn’t seen a thing yet, I feel utterly naked with my pussy spread for him under the nightgown.
The cool air sizzles against my heated flesh, caressing that swollen nub that keeps pulsing. My breath stutters with every tingle of pleasure, and he hasn’t even touched me there yet. What will happen then?
“S-Should we turn off the lights, you think?” I ask.
He smiles. “No, sweetheart. I’m going to see you—all of you. And you’ll let me.”
“O-Oh.”
The way he says it, so certain, so slowly, makes my breasts pebble. Disappearing under my nightgown again, his fingers inch closer to my throbbing center. My blood heats, my skin tightening over my pulse in anticipation.
And then—