Chapter 13 #4
He plucks at my tight nipple one last time. All of the sensations are too much for my sensitive flesh and I grab onto his arms that’s banded around me and come.
He holds me tight to him, his heavy cock straining against my backside, as the last of my tremors move through me.
Then he gently removes my hands from his arms and bends me over the stone bench that’s built in at the end of the shower.
I’m supported on my arms, from palms to elbows, with my ass tipped up in the air and my breasts hanging heavy from my chest.
Rhys grabs me by the hips and plunges deep inside of me.
He sets a punishing rhythm, fucking me harder than ever.
His hands grip me so tightly, I know I’ll have bruises but I can’t seem to find it in me to care because which each thrust, he’s driving my original orgasm higher and higher. I’m about to break.
“Aye, but I love this pussy,” he says between each thrust. “I could die fucking this cunt. Or eating it.”
“Rhys,” I squeal but the sound is cut off when he presses his fingertip against my back entrance.
With gentle pressure, he enters me where no one has ever touched me before—where he’s never touched me before because Rhys, my husband, is my first and only.
I clench tightly around him and it makes me feel full, too full, and I begin to panic.
Rhys stops moving and reaches between my legs with his free hand to play with my clit.
When my body starts to relax, I feel him begin to slide his finger in and out of my body while his cock is firmly planted in me. “Rhys.”
“Touch yourself,” he tells me as he lifts one of my hands to feel where we’re connected the deepest. “Get yourself off on my cock.”
He has me close again and I don’t want to lose the faint flutter of an orgasm, so I lean on one arm and reach between my legs, feeling him inside me.
My fingertips graze him as I circle my clit and he begins to glide in and out of me, slow to start, not wanting to overwhelm me, but he stays inside me.
“That’s it,” he says. “Show me how you get off on us.”
“Rhys,” I moan as he moves faster, plunging deeper, like he did before.
“Feel how good it is when I fuck you,” he says. “How good it’ll be when I sink into your tight ass.”
“Oh God—” I cry out because I’m so close and if it feels good like this when he fucks my ass, then it’s not a hard no.
“That’s it,” he growls as he fucks me hard. “Get there. I need you to get there.”
It’s no struggle. If anything, I’ve been holding back, but knowing how close he is throws me right over the edge and I scream as I come.
He drives deep one more time and follows me.
When he catches his breath, he pulls out and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me to standing.
But I was happy to die there, holding on to the bench.
He’s wrung every last bit out of me. I have nothing left to give.
I nuzzle into his neck when he turns me around and holds me under the spray like a sleepy kitten. I could happily crawl into bed. Stick a fork in me, I’m done.
“So, you’re sweet as a lamb after being fucked hard, are you?” He laughs.
“Shut up,” I mutter.
He chuckles and pours shampoo into his hands, lathering my head before rinsing me gently under the spray. He leans me against the shower wall while he shampoos his own hair and then lathers me up with soap before rinsing me again.
When we’re all clean, he turns off the water and grabs a towel, drying me off before doing the same for himself, which is great because I’m not sure I have use of my arms at this juncture.
He sits me down at my vanity and begins to brush out my hair.
The action is so tender and intimate, I’m not sure how to unpack it.
When he pulls out my hair dryer and begins giving me the best blowout ever, I’m stunned speechless.
“You’re really good at that,” I say quietly.
“I had a little sister and parents who were too busy to care for her,” he replies.
“That’s sad.”
“It is, but she always had me,” he adds. “And now you.”
“She does.”
When he’s done, I pin the sides of my hair back so that it’ll look pretty under the hat that matches my dress for this afternoon. It’s a fuchsia ring that sits on the back of my head rimmed with felt roses made of the same color that will cover the pins in my hair.
While Rhys wanders into the dressing room to finish getting ready, I redo my makeup in pretty rose tones to go with my dress before securing the hat to my head. When I’m done, I head into the dressing room wearing nothing but my hat and Rhys’s eyes heat as he watches me.
“Don’t get any funny ideas,” I warn him. “I’m still dead. You just can’t tell because I did my makeup pretty.”
“Hen, I’m going to warn you now, that until the day I die, I will always have ideas about you wearing nothing at all.”
“Nuh uh,” I say as I pull on my bra and panties and then stockings. I step into a pair of nude leather heels before reaching for my dress and Rhys stops my hand.
“Let me just take a mental picture,” he says.
“Shush, you.”
“This is even better than nothing at all,” he says. “I stand corrected.”
I roll my eyes and grab the pink shirt dress from the hanger and unbutton it all the way down the front before sliding it up my arms like a blouse and doing up all the buttons. I tie the sash belt and turn to take in my handsome husband in his uniform.
“You look nice,” I tell him.
“Thank you, hen,” he says. “I’m nothing compared to you. Shall we go make you a member of my royal family?”
“I guess.”
“You could act a little more excited,” he teases. “It does come with more jewelry.”
“If you should know anything about me, it’s that I’m not easily distracted by shiny things,” I say as I hook big rose quartz earrings through my ears.
“And still, I plan to spoil you for the rest of our days…”
“You’re pretty old already,” I say, “I’m not sure how many more you have left in you.”
“Cheeky minx,” he laughs as he swats my backside, making me yelp before he opens the door for me.
We walk down the hallway to one of the smaller formal rooms. Craig is waiting next to a lavishly set table with military style ribbons and medals.
Dahlia is dressed similarly to me in a shirt dress and hat.
Behind her stand her mother, her grandfather, and Taylor, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here, with a small crowd trailing them.
“Well, thank you all for coming here today,” Rhys says to the small assembly. “We’re here today so that I can officially name the first two members of my royal family. Obviously, those two would be my beautiful wife, the Queen, and my darling baby sister.”
Saoirse looks like she’s swallowed something bitter when he calls me his queen and murderous at the thought that Dahlia and I now precede her in importance.
The look is gone before anyone else can notice and instead, her face is painted with loving look toward her daughter and stepson as if she couldn’t be prouder in this moment.
Next, Craig hands Rhys a huge velvet jewelry box that he opens, plucking the hand painted oval from where it’s nestled.
The oval hangs from a pink ribbon and bears his picture, surrounded by fairly large diamonds.
He pins it to my dress, over my heart and winks at me before taking the matching sash from Craig and placing it over my head to lay across my body.
Once this is done, I curtsey to him as we planned and practiced, and then he repeats the process with Dahlia.
As he places the sash over her head, I see a flash of a light blue skirt and blonde hair, making me gasp. No. Not again. I barely hold it together and smile as big and fake as I can, pretending to watch my sister-in-law receive this new honor alongside me. But inside, I’m falling apart.
Why is she toying with me?
Is this the new plan? To have me sent to an asylum because I wouldn’t go home and be quiet?
I didn’t have a fucking choice, but I do now and I’m not going down without a fight.