9. I Own You, Even in Your Sleep
Chapter nine
I Own You, Even in Your Sleep
KARA
Pleasure pulsing in my core and the sensation of fullness brings me awake.
The weight of Mick's body above mine presses me into the mattress, his erection stretching my vaginal walls. Nipples already tender from our earlier lovemaking tingle with pleasure as his sculpted chest rubs against them.
My breath catches and I instinctively go to press my hands against those hard muscles. But my wrists are bound, my arms stretched above my head.
I tug against the restraints, but there's no give in the familiar leather cuffs.
"Ah. You're awake, mo chroí," Mick purrs against my ear, his hot breath sending a shiver of delight from the shell of my ear down my neck.
Awake?
I'm on the edge of orgasm.
"How did you get inside me without waking me up?"
"You did wake up." His voice is tinged with both pleasure and chagrin.
Now that I've given him carte blanche to touch me any way he wants in my sleep, Mick revels in bringing my somnolent form to screaming need for the pleasure only he can give me before I wake up.
He's never actually managed to get all the way inside me without waking me before though. Mick is big. Even after thirteen years of marriage, I have to stretch to accommodate him.
"Not before you filled me with your hard dick." I grind my pelvis against his, making my point.
"You were still slick and soft from before you went to sleep. You moaned so prettily when I played with your clit and your legs spread for me without me having to push your thighs apart." Thrusting in a tortuously slow rhythm, he growls, "Always ready for me. Even when you're asleep."
My feminine flesh clings to him, trying to suck him back into my depths, as he withdraws the length of his erection. "I was dreaming about you."
About this.
"And then you woke up to find out it wasn't a fantasy," he says with satisfaction.
Tugging against my wrist restraints, I arch my body upward. "No fantasy. Only my hot as heck husband."
He chuckles darkly. "Your feckin' hard and hot husband. The only man who has ever known the feel of this pussy."
"And the only man who ever will." Bound like I am, I can’t touch him, can’t grab at his hair or drag him closer, and the denial twists low in my belly. "Michael…" My voice breaks on his name.
"Shh." His mouth drags over mine, biting, consuming, his tongue forcing its way in like it owns me. It does. He does.
Always has. Always will.
Because I am so completely his, I own him too. In a way no other woman ever could.
Mick makes love to me, forcing more and more pleasure into my body until every nerve ending zings with want and need. But he doesn't increase his thrusts. Doesn't do what I need to reach the ultimate pleasure taunting me just out of reach.
And then he pulls out of me completely.
I scream my frustration only to be met with his diabolical laugh. He shifts down the bed until his shoulders are pushing my quivering thighs wide and I can feel his hot breath on my most intimate flesh.
He licks, sucks and even bites gently on my nether lips, avoiding my clit.
We both know a single touch there would send me into the stratosphere.
Only when his name is a litany of pleas coming from my mouth, "Michael…Michael…Michael," does he rear up onto his knees and command the lights to soft level illumination.
Unable to stand one more sensation, I shut my eyes tight.
"Look at me." His voice is sharp, commanding. "I want ya looking at me when ya fall apart."
I shake my head. "I can't."
He lines his erection up with my weeping core, kissing my opening with the leaking tip. "If ya want this in you, ya will. Now, mo chiste is a stór! Let me see into your soul."
I force my eyes open and meet his relentless gaze.
He reaches down and rubs circles over my clit and then pinches it, tugging until the sensation borders on pain. "Come for me."
My orgasm tears through me like lightning, frying my nerve endings, tightening every single muscle in the rictus of pleasure.
The cataclysm isn't enough though. I'm empty and I need him inside me.
"Michael!" I scream. "Please."
"Say it," he demands, his tone dark, demanding the words he knows I know he wants.
"Yours," I groan. "Always yours."
He thrusts into me in one brutal stroke, filling me so completely I sob. My inner walls are so swollen with pleasure, the stretch burns and I don't care.
His rhythm is hard and ruthless now, each stroke shoving me deeper into the mattress. There's nothing slow and gentle about this. It's stark, harsh domination.
"That's it. Look at those baps jiggle, your nipples so hard and tight." The words are as dirty and relentless as his thrusts, but tenderness underlays the hunger in my sociopath's eyes.
And when he cups my shaking breasts, the thumbs that glide over my nipples give only pleasure. "These baps are mine. You’re mine. Always mine. I’ll never let ya go."
He proved that six years ago and every day since.
"Yes." Always his. "Never let me go."
Ecstasy builds again, sharp and fast, until it bursts, tearing another climax from me. I scream, back arched, wrists straining, body convulsing around him. Mick snarls my name and follows me down, driving deep one last time as he spills inside me.
When he collapses against me, I’m still bound, but it's the titanium chain connecting his soul to mine that binds me in a way leather never could.