CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE #3
His breaths are growly and heavy. Much like his body on me. Much like his cock that I feel throbbing through the layers of our clothes as he asks, “Yes to what?”
I bite my lip again to keep my moans and my whimpers inside of me as I arch my back again and rest my head on his shoulder. Then, looking up into his dark, dark eyes, I reply, “To being your wife.”
His nostrils flare in response.
And I keep going. “If I knew you’d bring me here, away from everyone else, where everywhere I turn, all I find is you, I never would’ve let you put your ring on my finger.”
He watches me for a few long moments, his eyes roving over my flushed features.
And I hope he hears me but also I don’t.
I hope he understands what I’m giving him.
A chase to his hunter’s heart. But also I don’t want him to know how badly I want all of this to be true.
How badly I want to be the girl who gets to wear his ring.
Who gets to live here with him. Who gets to build a life with him, give him babies.
I didn’t even know you could feel so empty until he told me his dream that day. And I hope he doesn’t hear me.
My thoughts break when he moves. When he slides his arms from around my middle and inches away from me, taking his weight off my body.
Afraid, truly and genuinely, that he mistook my intentions, I scramble up on my knees.
I try to turn around and look at him but he doesn’t let me.
He grabs the back of my neck, keeping my face stuck to the ground, dead leaves and grass crunching beneath me and grips my hips, telling me to stay in place.
Then he goes for my dress and flips it up, exposing my panty-covered ass to his eyes.
He stares at my butt for a second, my panties, my thighs, before moving his eyes over to me. Then, towering over me, his face sharp and cut from stone, he rasps, “So then how come my wife’s so wet that her white fuckin’ panties are sticking to her tight little cunt?”
He finishes his question, completely rhetorical, with a sharp smack to my ass, making me jerk and moan. And I smile. Because thank God, he got my message. Thank God, he understood what I was trying to do.
My smile doesn’t stay in place because he goes ahead and smacks me again.
Although this time, he also fists my wet panties and pulls them against my core, against the very center or me, making me whimper and gasp.
As he continues, “And how come when I tear these off, she’s gonna come so hard like the slut she is for her husband, she’ll see stars? ”
“I’m not going to—”
He eats up my words when he does what he said he’d do and I really obey him like the slut I am.
For him, for my fake, fantasy husband. I come and I see stars behind my closed eyes, my ass bouncing in the air.
Which he slaps again, and I swear to God, I feel my juices flying everywhere, raining down on me.
But it isn’t enough for him because as I’m coming down from my high, panting and whimpering, he says, “And tell you what, before I carry her back to our bed, where I’ll tie her up again tonight, she’ll come even harder.
She’ll come like a hurricane. Like a ragin’ storm.
The kind that came the day she threw herself in my arms and sealed her fate. You know why, darlin’?”
“Wh-why?”
He leans down over me, covering my shivering back with his chest as he whispers, “’Cause along with that princess pussy of hers that I’m gonna fuck so hard in about three seconds that she’ll be all sore and swollen, I’m also gonna fuck my wife in her ass.
” I stiffen under him. “And trust me when I say, been waitin’ for this day for a long fuckin’ time.
Since the day I put my ring on her finger and made her mine in front of man and God.
And I’ve decided tonight’s the night. Tonight, I pop her other cherry and pump her ass so full of cum that she’ll have no choice but to come as hard for me as I’ll come for her. ”
I shake my head. “Radisson, I don’t—”
“’Cause see, the thing is,” he goes on, his words scary and erotic, “my wife don’t really wanna run from me.
She just wants to make me crazy. She wants to taunt me.
Provoke me, make me lose control so I forget bein’ a man and become somethin’ else.
An animal for her. A hunter, all rabid and feral.
Hard and hungry. Who chases her down and ropes her in.
Who traps her in his ranch and ravages every.
Princess. Inch of her. That she forgets to be scared and only remembers what it feels like to be worshipped.
” Then, placing a soft, reverent kiss on my face, he adds, “’Cause she’s as psychotic as me. We’re fate.”
I’m shaking like a leaf by the time he finishes, and I whisper, my heart racing and squeezing in my chest, “I-I’m scared.”
“I know, Princess.”
“I—”
“And that’s how I like you, don’t I?” he rasps, placing another kiss on my cheek. “Scared and shakin’. Comin’ so hard that you’ll soak my skin.”
Still I insist, “You’re not going to—”
“I will.”
“But—”
“I’ve got you, yeah?” he says, much like he did the first night he took my virginity. “I’ll make it fit. If you hurt, I hurt. If you come, I come. Together.”
Swallowing, I nod and he rewards me with a bone-melting kiss. And then he goes about doing what he said he’d do. Make it fit, together.
It’s not easy. It takes time and he starts with my pussy.
He fucks me there first. As wet as I am, as turned on, him taking me from behind like this makes his cock seem bigger.
He hits different points inside of me, deeper points that I didn’t know existed.
And I wonder why we haven’t been doing it this way all this time.
Although I know the answer. It’s because that’s how he did it for years, and I didn’t want him to hide from me.
So whenever we had sex, we’d be looking into each other’s eyes.
And while I miss that here, this is still my favorite new position because I feel him in my belly.
I feel him in my throat. I feel him everywhere in my body.
When I come, that’s when he does it. Or starts the process of doing it.
Fucking my ass. His cock is all lubed up with my juices; plus, he spits on it and my hole for added ease.
So he should be able to get at least the head of his cock in.
He can’t. Not without a lot of effort on his part.
And mine. Because I keep shaking and shivering, moaning and whining.
I keep tensing up, trying to get away from him.
But he’s a cowboy and he’s dealt with skittish fillies a lot.
So he keeps rubbing my spine, stroking my ass.
He keeps telling me how well I’m doing, even though all I’ve done is cry about how much it hurts and how scared I am.
Until something about his soothing words and patience works and he manages to get in.
He starts with shallow thrusts that feel more like pressure at first but turn into something pleasurable as the time passes.
It also helps that he leans down over me again and plays with my clit.
He whispers praise directly in my ear as if his words are only meant for me and not for the world.
Not for the sky or the trees, or the air or the ground.
Only me, his fake, fantasy wife. So of course I loosen up.
Of course I let him in more. Why wouldn’t I?
His words are so hard to come by. They’re a gift. Like this was, for him.
So I surrender and give him what he wants, and his strokes speed up.
His breaths speed up too. His chest pants against me and his words dissolve into moans.
His hips slap against my butt and my small body jiggles under his big one, my pleasure doubling, almost reaching its peak.
His hands find mine on the ground and we lace up our fingers, and this is how we find our climax. As one. Like we’re always meant to be.
Together.