Chapter Seven
Tia showered and shaved everything that needed shaving, even though she’d done that in the morning. She then got out and rubbed lotion everywhere, hoping he’d come to his senses if she took enough time. But so far, he hadn’t. She was hell-bent on a path of wedding sex debauchery. Which sounded as wrong as it could get.
Nervously she slipped on the silken nightgown Jake had handed her, her fingers trembling as she did up the four white buttons in the front. The nightgown was so pretty, lacy, dainty, silky, and every bit appropriate to greet one’s husband in. She’d never owned anything like it, had never worn something like this for a man. Didn’t they like leather and corsets, thigh highs and stilettos? Jake used to.
She went out to the bedroom, unsure what to do, how much time he’d take, and then her heart went to her throat. He was already in bed, his chest bare except for the sprinkling of slightly darker hair than on his head and the covers around his waist. His hands were behind his head, and he leaned against fluffy white pillows. His blue eyes held no humor, only lusty appreciation for her, in the white nightgown. “You ready?”
“I don’t know if I can do this.” She swallowed and tugged at the silken hem at her thigh. It was foolish to have pre-wedding sex jitters when you weren’t even married. But her stomach did flip-flops, and her skin crawled with anxiety. No, not anxiety. Anticipation. “This is not something I expected to do.”
Jake frowned. “Tonight?”
“Ever.”
“I did, once. I was engaged eons ago. But that dream died.”
Somehow, that shocked the stuffing right out of her. He was a man whore, through and through. The sweetest, nicest kind of man whore, but no woman with half a brain expected Jake Anderson to end up on one knee, handing her a ring. That was part of what drew her to him in the first place.
She shifted, even more nervous. He’d never get on one knee except for wedding sex role play. “You were engaged?”
“Stranger things have happened.” He cocked his head, studying her with a curious look on his handsome face. “Are you scared?”
“No,” she lied.
“This is just a fantasy, Tia. I won’t hurt you.”
Oh, yes, this would hurt, but the pain wouldn’t be physical. She’d feel this emotionally for the rest of her life. Maybe that was the punishment handed down to her—to never be married but have to role play it instead. God knew she had done worse to herself than this. She’d gone to horrible lengths to learn to feel again. But she didn’t know if she could take this punishment like a good submissive.
“Come here,” he whispered.
“Do you want me to strip for you?” She could handle stripping. She’d done that so many times. Hell, if he had made her come out naked, she would have been more comfortable. The virginal whiteness was cloying, reminding her of all she had done and everything she wasn’t. She didn’t deserve him.
“No. I want to hold you.”
“Red,” she whispered before she could stop herself, the fear paralyzing at the thought of his arms around her. And then she realized what an ass she was, safewording because he just wanted to hold her. She had to make this evening something easier, something she could handle. Maybe if she pretended he was a work cover and she had to do him? Fuck him or die. She could handle that.
“You can’t safeword out, Tia. This is a vanilla fantasy. My house, my rules. Come. Hold me.” Jake hesitated. “If you’re truly scared, I’ll stop.”
She really didn’t want to stop, because the sex that would follow would be mind-blowing. Every cell, every pore was aware of him, of his energy. If he took her now, she’d be completely ready, the white thong she’d found in her suitcase soaked, her nipples hard and poking through the soft silk. And that’s what scared her the most. She wanted him, could taste how bad she wanted him, and she feared the lengths she would go to get him.
But all he wanted was to hold her, so she went to the side of the bed and stood, unsure. He held out his arms, and she crawled next to him, on top of the covers, closing her eyes as he wrapped her into his strong arms. He kissed her forehead. “Did you enjoy the wedding?”
“Yes?” He was insane.
He chuckled, his chest shaking under her cheek. “You should have made the bridesmaids happier. I don’t think they liked your choice of dress color or the flowers.”
“What color were they?”
“You tell me. Women seem to dream of this stuff. I’m good in a tux.”
“I never planned my wedding as a girl.” White trash didn’t hope to be married. She had hoped to hit eighteen and not be knocked up two or three times.
“Then plan it now.”
She closed her eyes, and something feminine leaped forward, a part of her that longed for girlfriends, sleepovers, and a wedding of her own. “Then they were happy with their dresses and flowers. They were green, like a fern green. Green dresses, pink flowers. I had pink roses. You had a dark gray suit with a pink boutonnière. But not a fancy dress for me—something simple. Strapless.” She inferred white but couldn’t bring herself to say it. It seemed wrong to even hope.
“Pink?” he asked. She looked up at him, and he wrinkled his nose like a little kid offered spinach or lima beans. “What happened to yellow?”
“Pink.” If he didn’t like it, then she’d go for it. Part of her really wanted pink. “And no alcohol at the reception. My Aunt Trudy is a drinker.” She wasn’t, but it would probably piss him off, so she went with that, too.
“Fine.” He glanced down at her and smoothed the hair from her cheek. “Less nervous?”
She blinked. The terror had fled, the pain subsided, and she was just Tia again. A very aroused Tia at that. “Yes.”
“Any idea what made you so nervous?”
She shrugged. “It’s just not what we do, that’s all.”
What a sweet little liar. Jake assessed how her eyes darted from his, so uncomfortable. She knew exactly what her problem was, and he wanted to know what made the hardcore tough girl tremble and safeword out of something so simple. Innocent.
He hated laying down the wedding sex rule but still couldn’t see a way around it. He hadn’t thought of marriage in years and years, except to know it wasn’t right for the man that he’d become. Once, a long time ago, definitely. But now, it wasn’t right for him.
But he truly felt what he told Tia. Good men didn’t bring home work partners to bed. If he could role play it enough to satisfy that part of him, then maybe tomorrow he wouldn’t feel so guilty. He already knew he would burn in hell for his life. He’d add this to his list of sins, too.
She’d looked so damned beautiful as she came out of the bathroom, the hem of that nightdress caressing her mid-thigh, the buttons done up tight to her throat. The silk clung in all the right places, the white so perfect against her tan skin. His cock had hardened immediately, and he ached to taste her even more than he had wanted to when she was dressed in crotchless panties and thigh highs.
He kissed the top of her head again, his thumb brushing her arm. “Why don’t you get under the covers?”
“Fine.” She sighed and lifted the sheet, scooting under. She stiffened when she made contact with his thigh, her hand brushing his hip, as if testing to see what he wore. “Not fair. You’re naked, and I have to wear a nightgown?”
“I can take care of that in a bit.” But he didn’t want to. He wanted her in that nightgown forever.
“Not fair. I can handle naked better than frilly girly dresses.”
“My house, my rules.” The nightgown was anything but frilly, girly. It was feminine, soft, innocent. And he loved her in it. “You were girly in Paris.”
“That silver dress is a tough girl dress. Not a frilly girl dress. I can carry under that dress.”
“Where?” Unless she’d tucked a gun up in her pussy, he couldn’t guess where she would have put it.
“My inner thigh.”
“Tough girls are hot.” He kissed her softly. “So are girly girls.”
“Fine.”
He laughed. He loved that she was spunky, belligerent at times. Usually wild yet submissive in his bed. He didn’t know how wild they’d get tonight, but he hoped to at least give her an orgasm, to get started on his promise to her. Aim high, right out of the gate. She was doing her part. He hadn’t thought of Kate much since they hit Virginia.
But just thinking Kate’s name made him choke a bit. What the hell was he thinking? But he closed his eyes and went to a calmer place, one that reminded him of his duty, his mission. This would make Kate most happy, and if he truly loved her, he’d do this.
He swallowed as he looked down at Tia. She ran a hand absentmindedly over his chest, her fingers a gentle tickle that roused his cock, her hair a pillow of floral-scented blackness under her cheek. So beautiful, sexy, so available. And his for the weekend. She was definitely wifely material. He slid a hand under her chin and lifted her lips to his.
The kiss was bittersweet, almost painful at first, until she wiggled against him, and his dick throbbed, reminding him that he had needs and she was more than able to see to them. He deepened the kiss, not wasting time like he had outside under the tree.
When Jake gently pushed Tia off his chest and pressed her to the bed, she went, willingly, desperate to have him inside her. He loomed over her as he broke the kiss and nudged her thighs apart and arranged himself there. She sucked in a breath as his hard cock came in contact with her pussy, the gauzy material of her thong soaked through. She needed him. Now. She ached. She was more than ready. Why waste time? But he stilled and, instead, propped himself up on an elbow to stare down at her.
“I have to slow down, or I won’t last,” he said on a ragged breath. “I never expected to get this excited, this quick.”
She couldn’t help smiling with amusement. The Jake she knew stayed hard for hours and never came until the very end. Now he was like an eager teen, ready to pop after a hot kiss. That he’d be so ready, hot for her, gave her ego a huge boost. Maybe he was what she needed, after all. “You should have done more than kiss me under the tree.”
“Be quiet, or you’ll go to bed without any sex.”
He kissed her again, his mouth gentler, his tongue still insistent. Wanting more, she wrapped her legs around his hips and arched upward, bumping his hard cock against her clit. She fully expected him to stop her, but he responded in kind, the ridge of his shaft rubbing the length of her slit, igniting lust deep inside her stomach. He stilled and put a hand on her hips, stopping her as he kissed her again, hard, slow, his tongue thrusting in a rhythm his hips had just done.
Then he broke the kiss and smoothed her cheek with a hand, his breathing so ragged, harsh. His other hand cupped her breast, the thumb tracing a lazy pattern around her nipple. “It’s good to be so excited for my wife, isn’t it?”
“You’re a good husband,” she whispered, trembling slightly at the word wife on his lips.
Not work wife—regular wife. She was already excited as hell, but if lust had walls, he had just tossed her over it with that word. His eyes were dark, like a turbulent ocean, and she could lose herself in the passion in them. Something inside her changed with the ignition of that higher form of lust. She didn’t merely want him to fuck her. She wanted him to make love to her.
She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him again, and this time she led, showing him what she needed, where she needed his tongue. She slid her hands between them and unbuttoned the four buttons, her fingers shaking slightly. Then she took his hand and urged him inside the gaping neckline.
He’d touched her breasts so many times, but this time felt new, different. His hand burned a path across her flesh, searing her skin, his thumb insistent on her nipple, rubbing, rolling, joining with his finger to pull, then twist, just the way she liked it. The pleasure mingled with sweet pain, and she cried out against his lips, wanting more.
His other hand slid the nightgown up around her waist. He rolled off her, his cock burning against her thigh, his hand on her stomach. She arched her hips as his hand slid down, down, cupping her mound, then splaying across her pussy. He sucked in a breath, his fingers exploring how wet she was, inching along the seam of her thong, pausing where it narrowed to nestle between her ass cheeks.
“A thong under this nightgown is so sexy,” he breathed against her neck when he broke their kiss. “I love your ass, so tight. Skin so smooth. You’re so wet. I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet for me.”
His fingers ran back up along the side by her thigh and then dipped underneath the material, sinking into her slit. He didn’t waste time. He shoved one, then two fingers inside her slick pussy, pumping gently. And then he moved, swiftly, and was between her legs in a flash, his mouth fastening on her clit through the material of her thong.
The contact was so unexpected, yet so exciting, and her pussy convulsed in a hard spasm. She bucked against him, and he sucked harder. Then he lifted his face and tugged at the strings, drawing the material down. She helped him and, in a moment, his face was back where it belonged, between her thighs, his tongue exploring her folds, his fingers thrusting inside her pussy.
He lubricated his thumb and twisted his hand inside her. His thumb dipped into her ass, knuckle deep inside her tight rosette. She moaned and threaded her fingers into his hair, urging him to suck her harder, lap faster. Suddenly all she wanted was to come in his mouth, against his face. This was an orgasm she knew she could have, the non-proper type.
He lifted his face and withdrew his fingers. “Not so fast, wife.”
Why the hell not? She wriggled again, agitated. “I want to come, Jake. Please?”
“Ask your Husband if you can come.” He accentuated husband the way he would Sir or Master, expecting her to show respect the same way.
She looked into his eyes. They were lusty, demanding. He liked being Husband as much as he liked being Master. “Please make me come, Husband. Will you let me?”
“In a bit,” he said.
She growled her frustration.
He chuckled. “You want to come with me inside, remember?” He returned to fingering her clit, two fingers sliding inside her core, tickling her G-spot. “What would you like to do, besides come? We have all night. I’m not going to get you off quickly and ruin our wedding night.”
“May I—” Asking to suck his cock seemed too crude for the moment, not right for wedding sex. She blinked, not liking this new role one bit. “I would like to kiss you.”
He lowered his lips to hers, and she shoved him away. “No, not there.”
“Where, then?”
“Areas below?”
Jake laughed. “I love that my wife is having a hard time saying cock.”
She glared, despite what his fingers were doing deep inside her pussy. “Maybe that’s not what I want to kiss.”
He removed his fingers, rolled on the bed, and went back to his original position—hands behind his head against the headboard. Only now, he was completely naked, his erection bobbing from the movement he’d just made. “Then find your areas below that you’d like to kiss, that aren’t my cock, wife.”
“Is that a command? I don’t recall there being obey in our wedding vows.” And then she blinked, her breathing ratcheting up a notch. A statement like that would earn her a paddling in most scenes they played.
But Jake didn’t seem to mind one bit. “Oh, you promised to obey, but you also promised to be healthy, wealthy, and wise. None of that sickness stuff.”
“I don’t think I’d let you write our wedding vows.” She held the hem of her nightgown and straddled him, his cock nudging her ass as she sat back on his groin.
“Kiss what you want to kiss, wife,” he commanded softly. “Start obeying.”
She kissed his flat nipple first, sucking it lightly, then ran her tongue over to the other. The devil inside her had to see how far she could push him. “Can I use nipple clamps on you?”
“Not vanilla, wife.” He slapped her ass, and she sucked in a breath of pure ecstasy. She felt that all the way to the deepest part of her pussy. Good, he wasn’t going total pansy on her.
“I don’t think spanking is, either.”
He smacked her again, harder this time, and she bit her lip to keep in the moan of pleasure. “Start kissing.”
His skin tasted so good under her lips as she nibbled her way down his chest. She slid her pussy up and over his cock, then down the length on the outside, riding his thick ridge in one damp stroke. His fingers found her hair, and he sucked in a breath, holding the locks at her scalp with gentle insistence.
Finally, his cock was at face level. So thick. Eager. She didn’t usually give head. She’d been forced in the past by a bad Dom, and it was one of her standard hard limits. That and bodily functions were about all she wouldn’t do. In Paris, she had sucked him for the first time and had enjoyed the way he tasted and how it had pleased him to no end. She drew in a breath and kissed the head of his cock, damp with a drop of cum.
“Sit on my face,” he breathed as she took the thick head into her mouth. She sucked him for a moment, enjoying the silky smoothness of his skin against her lips, her mouth.
“Obey,” he growled.
She trembled as she climbed off him and straddled him the other way, kneeling over his face, her pussy right above his tongue. She had tempted him that way in Paris, but that was because she had to suck him to get him ready. It was easier to suck him in this position. But this was different, so sinful, her breaths coming in hot pants as she lowered her hips to just above his face, so close, yet far enough that his tongue would only taste air.
She looked down the length of her body but all she saw was the damned white nightgown. She went to tug it over her head, and he grabbed the hem.
“Don’t. It’s so sexy.” He held the silky material in one fist, and finally, she could see his face between her thighs, his eyes devouring her, as if she were some confection just out of his reach. “God, yes. I’ve dreamed of your pussy over my face like this since Paris. All I wanted was to lap at you. You were so wet. As wet as you are now. And you smelled like the finest perfume.”
Jake tugged her hips, and she sank downward, onto his tongue. And jumped at the shock of his mouth on her clit, immediately sucking. His hands ran along her sides from her hips to just under her ribcage, the material slippery and soft. He ran his tongue from her clit along one pussy lip to almost her ass, then back up to stab into her core, thrusting like he had with his tongue in her mouth.
“Yes,” she whispered and opened her eyes with a start. She never spoke during sex, unless it was to answer a question. Even their discussion a moment earlier was out of character for her. He must have liked it because his lips found her clit again and sucked, then nipped, and she bit back another cry.
Then the contact stopped, and she swallowed a cry of dismay. “You can be as vocal as you want, wife. In fact, I command it. I also command you to get to work. Maybe you’ll learn to say cock while you’re down there.”
She may not want to say cock during his stupid role play, but she sure as hell knew what to do with one. He nipped her clit again and, this time, when she wanted to moan, she drew him in to the root and let the noise vibrate around his shaft. He tensed under her, and she sucked her way back to the tip.
Yes, he liked that. A lot. She could tell by the way he stiffened under her, his hands clutching her hips. Her fingers cupped his testicles, and, this time, when he nipped, she sucked him deep, moaned around him, and pressed her thumb beneath the base of his shaft in that sensitive spot.
He quivered and inhaled, his body going washboard hard under her for a split second. His fingers slid into her pussy, his thumb in her ass. Her elusive orgasm reared up, threatening to tumble her off the cliff, and she trembled at the edge of blissful pleasure laced with just a touch of… She trembled. Why would vanilla sex make her heart ache just a little?
He removed his hands and mouth, but her orgasm had stopped, anyway. “You can’t come yet,” he warned from between her thighs through the stupid nightgown. “Don’t come until I command it.”
No man had ever made her feel this horny. Not coming was never an issue before today. But she was a vindictive wife. If she couldn’t come, then she’d make him lose control. Her hands shaking, she drew him in, sucking just the tip, her tongue exploring the ridge along the head. She added a hand to the base of his shaft and stroked in time to each lap. His hands clenched her hips, and he shook a little.
Oh, he was close. This time, she sucked him deep, down to her fist, and pressed that spot again. He bucked into her mouth, his cock sliding in, and she let her hand slide away to take him to the back of her throat.
“You have to stop,” he managed on a strangled breath. “I haven’t had sex in over a month. I can’t take it.”
Over a month? So unlike Jake. Maybe making him suffer was better than making him come. She sucked the length as she pulled away, letting him pop out at the end. She looked down between her thighs again—he still held the nightgown so he could watch her. Oh, he was suffering. The look he gave her was one of delicious torture.
“Did I do okay, Husband?” She ran a finger along the length of his cock, from shaft to tip, and he jumped.
“Your mouth should be illegal,” he said with awe and slapped her ass. “Come here, so I can kiss you.”
Tia climbed off and turned obediently but couldn’t resist kissing the tip of his cock one last time. How odd that she hadn’t ever wanted to suck a man like this, but Jake made her want to pleasure him until he came.
He grabbed her gently by the hair and pulled, and she went. He shoved her shoulders to the bed and rolled over her, his mouth finding hers in a hot, wet kiss that tasted of her musk. He pressed her downward, his hips in contact with hers, his cock nudging where his fingers and mouth had just played. And then she realized what he was about to do and closed her eyes.
“Oh, no, open them. You need to look into my eyes, wife.”
She obeyed and was met with turbulent blue, filled with lust. He gave a small thrust, the head of his cock sliding between her pussy lips and into her core. He had never felt bigger inside her, thicker. He was silken heat, his shaft warm, hard, soft in all the right ways.
He slid into her pussy slowly, inch by inch, opening her in a way he’d never taken her before. Usually, it was fast, hard, urgent. This slowness gave her the shivers, her skin tingling with shocks of electricity that sparked deeper shocks in her core, into an area that felt strangely like her heart. That first slow stroke beckoned to her orgasm, called it to come out and play.
Jake gave a small shudder, his gaze still intent but filled with something foreign, new. He closed his eyes and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her slowly as he began to rock, his thrusts gentle, deep, sensual. His pubic bone ground into her clit, giving her delicious friction that stroked at her growing orgasm. Who knew plain old missionary position could be so wonderful? That it could indeed hurt emotionally, just a little, appeasing the side of her that liked pain? She sure as hell didn’t.
He increased the tempo of his thrusts, using his palms for leverage, his biceps straining under the pressure. Tia drew in a deep breath, needing air, and wrapped a sweat-dampened leg around his waist, trying to gain position to hold him deeper. He kissed her harder, wetter, hotter and held her leg in place, his hand on her ass, his arm against her thigh.
“Come for me, wife. I know you’re close.”
She was close, the upward spiral swirling faster, the pleasure sweeter, hotter, the ache in her heart so divine. She clenched her pussy walls in time with his thrusts so her channel sucked him on the out part, welcomed him on the upstroke. Panting, she kept up with his tempo, wanting him harder, deeper, faster, worried she wouldn’t come, the same as every other time.
And just when she thought it wouldn’t happen, he breathed in her ear, “Come, wife. Now.”
She shattered, coming apart with the deepest pleasure as he stroked hard into her pussy. Shocks so strong ripped through her core and raced to her toes, curling them. She cried out against his neck, and another shock took her higher. She felt as if she couldn’t hold him deep enough, hard enough. The spasms rocked her core, tingled her skin, and if someone had told her angels had sung, she would have believed them.
Jake shuddered, his mouth hard against her neck, and then he groaned and pumped faster, his cum jetting in a hot rush, flooding her pussy. A strange sensation, one that made her feel claimed. His.
She’d never been claimed before, not like this. Just claimed like chattel that would be cast aside one day. A strange feeling began to swirl in her chest, as if he’d taken out the role of bondage tape in her bag and placed a single piece on her heart. She held him, wrapping both legs around his waist, hugging him closer, harder than she’d ever hugged anyone.
He’d done it. She’d come. Smugness embraced Jake, and he didn’t want to roll off and leave the comfort of Tia’s arms, her pussy just as tightly wrapped around him as her legs. And with a jolt, he realized he didn’t have to roll off—there was no condom. He relaxed even more and basked in being one with her. Everything felt so much better without latex. She’d never been tighter, wetter, hotter. So perfect.
Another jolt went through him as he realized this was what married sex was about. This was what Chase got every night of the week if Kate was speaking to him. Hell, she might even put out not speaking. He would if it were him. This was too good to pass up.
He kissed Tia’s neck, nuzzling, and pulled back enough to tug at the nightgown they’d never gotten around to removing. She leaned, lifted, and then she was naked in his arms. So fucking good. So hot. His.
He angled downward to suck a neglected nipple, rolling the peak in his mouth with his tongue, enjoying the slight tang of salt on her skin. He had expected his cock to eventually give out, too pooped to party, but it lengthened, grew, and was again a force to be reckoned with.
“I want you again,” he whispered as he directed his attention to the other nipple. “Married sex is awesome. Will you have me?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He inhaled sharply and raised his head. “You always have a choice, Tia. I would never force you.”
“My husband is testy,” she said, a serene smile on her lips. “I’ll always agree with your wishes.”
But something had changed. He felt it with his sixth sense, the one that had kept him alive all these years out in the field. “Your husband thinks you’re unhappy with your choices.”
“You are my only choice. It was a weak joke, Jake. Nothing more.”
“Green?” he asked, giving her the chance to safeword out. They often used colors—red for stop, green was go, yellow was slow down or wrong path. Something wasn’t right. He stared down at her, but her face was serene. Too calm, in fact. He had the same feeling he had before, when she had faked an orgasm. A suspicion that she wasn’t as happy as she pretended to be. But he didn’t know her that well. He could be wrong.
“Green.” And as if to prove it, she arched against him, sliding his shaft deeper. “Very green.”
Hell, if she was very green, his cock wanted to run with that thought.
“You deserve to be punished for that.” And the thought of married disciplinary sex made his cock go from hard to raging, wanting to spill over again, deep inside her pussy. He stared down into beautiful brown eyes, the shape exotic, so sexy. He gave a thrust, delighted in how her slickness made him glide that much easier. “How shall I punish you?”
She frowned, but passion glazed over her face as she realized what he was offering. Her fingernails bit into his ass as she urged him faster. “I did what you wanted. You wanted a wedding. I wanted Vegas. You should be happy with that.”
He kissed her quick and wet, and his hips pistoned faster. “Yeah, but I saw you look at my best man. You’ve fucked him, haven’t you? You’re mine, now. Those wild ways will have to stop.”
“I never!”
She turned her head, and he grabbed her chin and held her firmly, so she had to face his accusation. God, she was hot, caught up in their roles, looking every inch the cheating wife. “You did. I saw how he looked at you. Like you were a treat he’d sampled before and wanted again. You fucked him. Hard. Fast. Didn’t you?”
A look crossed her eyes, her face, one he didn’t know, and she whispered, “Yes, I fucked him. Ages ago.”
A shock of jealousy raced through him as he realized role play had just gone confessional. He drew in a sharp breath and stilled his hips. His best man would always be Chase, and if she fucked his best man… “When? How?”
“The club. Right after his divorce. It was…bad.” She swallowed and bucked against him, trying to get him to thrust again. “I’m sorry, Husband. Please fuck me.”
The image of Chase’s long form between her thighs, his skin lighter, hers a shade creamier, both of them dark and dangerous, sparked the jealousy higher. But it also ignited lust. He resumed thrusting, pounding, at the images that danced in his head.
“What did you play?” He took both of her hands in one fist and held them over her head, bearing down, holding her captive.
She breathed harder. “Married/mistress. It wasn’t that good. Not like with you.”
Alarms went off in his head, and he stilled between her thighs again. No one walked from Chase saying it wasn’t good. No woman. Hell, he liked threesomes because he was with Chase. The man was sexy as hell, and Jake didn’t even go bi. “Liar.”
“I’m not lying. We didn’t play like you and I play. He was intense, and I pushed him to places I wanted him to go. Harder into the S/m stuff. Because I thought I deserved that. Places I’ll never go again.”
Jake couldn’t see Chase going there, but Kate had said once he’d been in a dark, sexual place. “Will you fuck him again?”
“Only if you command it, Husband. Please,” she said on a sob.
He didn’t want her to cry, not because he was getting jealous, overstepping the boundaries. “Red, yellow, green?”
“Green. Fuck me.” Her nails bit into his ass, and she arched again in invitation.
“Do you deserve to be punished?” he asked as he kissed her neck, his hips still. She loved to be spanked as much as he loved doing it. If she didn’t come for him this time, she’d probably never come again.
“Yes. Punish me for fucking Chase.”
He withdrew. “On your knees.”
She rose on shaky knees, avoiding his gaze like a good submissive. His submissive. His wife.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Lust burned in her eyes, as did something else, something unnamable.
“On your hands and knees. Only good wives get missionary position.”
She complied, her lithe body trembling, her tight ass in the air. He rammed into her from behind, her pussy still tight but the angle incredible. He pulled out and slapped her ass, and she shuddered. “Do I need to spank you again?”
“Yes, Husband,” she whispered, lowering herself to her elbows, her hands balled in the sheets. She bit back a moan.
“I want to hear you moan, wife. I want to know you enjoy my punishment.” He gave her a few deep thrusts before withdrawing to the tip. He slapped her ass twice, his handprint visible. She rocked back, trying to slide his cock deeper. “Maybe I should fuck your ass. Would that teach you?”
“I’ve never had my ass fucked before, Husband. Maybe you should wait.”
She’d done that plenty—she loved that—but her role play made him even hotter. He slapped her ass on the opposite cheek then pumped deep into her wet heat. Her pussy sucked the length of his cock as he withdrew to the last inch, and he shuddered.
“I’ll wait, only because I want to come in your tight pussy. I think your punishment should be to come for me and to scream my name. I want you to forget him. I want only my name on your lips. You think you can do that?”
“I’m so close,” she whispered. She’d gone back to supporting her weight on her palms, rocking back in time to his thrusts. “Yes.”
He wrapped a hand around her waist and found her clit. He strummed it and bit her shoulder as her back arched against his chest. And then he felt her stiffen, her pussy contracting around his cock, milking his length. “Moan for me.”
She moaned, and he slapped her ass again. He loved how her skin felt under his warm palm. Hot. Hopefully a delightful pink.
“Come for me. My name, wife. Scream my name.”
“Jake,” she screamed and shuddered, falling to her elbows, pressing her cheek to the bed. Her pussy clenched around him, hugging and releasing in hard spasms, her channel even more slick from the juices she released with her orgasm.
The angle of her hips buried him deeper than ever, and he came, shooting into her, his balls aching, the zings of pleasure racing from his testicles to his shaft. Her pussy milked every ounce of cum from him, and he wrapped himself over her back, panting.
He fell to his side, still inside her spasming pussy, pulling her down with him. He kissed her neck, her cheek and then pulled out so he could turn her to face him. He gave her a wet kiss, one he could feel down in his balls. He shuddered again and lay back, her slightly on top of him.
“That was awesome.” He kissed her again and held her close. “Best. Sex. Ever.”
Now that passion had cooled, Jake didn’t care that she’d slept with Chase. It had been years ago, during Chase’s downward spiral after the divorce, and Tia hadn’t met Jake yet. Hell, she’d be hard-pressed to find women he hadn’t fucked, so who was he to judge? But the idea that it had been dark sex worried him.
“You okay?” he whispered. “I really don’t care that you slept with Chase, you know.”
“I know.”
“Not too rough?”
“Yes, I’m fine. That was perfect.”
Hell, yes, it was perfect. He’d never felt passion like that and had never come that hard before in his life. If she gave him a bit, he could probably find another way to make love to her and feel that intensity. Married sex rocked.
Jake was convinced what Chase had was pretty damned good, and perhaps he could replicate that with Tia. Maybe he wasn’t so in love with Kate, after all, and she was right. He loved what she gave to Chase, how her love had changed him. Maybe he had hope for a normal life. Maybe.
Jake kissed Tia again and allowed himself to enjoy the afterglow, the intense feelings that lingered. She was amazing, and he looked down at her wondering if her world sang like his did.
But Tia didn’t seem as excited. She lay in his arms, compliant. The feeling that something was wrong intensified, and it nagged at him. “You sure you’re okay? Did you enjoy your orgasms? I know you didn’t fake them.”
“They were amazing. Thank you, Husband.” She lifted her lips to be kissed, but the warmth wasn’t there like before.
“Don’t lie to me.” He grasped her chin gently and made her look into his eyes. He studied her and found her emotions as hard to read as Chase’s. She betrayed nothing, hinted at nothing, and it strengthened the notion that he’d done something very wrong, despite the orgasms he’d given her. “What changed?”
She wrapped her arms around him tighter, holding him close, forcing him to break the hold on her chin and her gaze. “Nothing, Jake. It was amazing. But wedding sex is messy, and I’d like to go to the bathroom. May I leave the marriage bed?”
“Of course, darlin’. Whatever you need.”
She smiled and rose gracefully, but the smile never touched her eyes. Her body was so beautiful—long legs, so firm, her ass high and round. Her skin flawless. She hesitated at the door knob. “I’d like a shower if that’s okay.”
“Anything.” He didn’t want her to shower. He wanted her to tell him why she pulled away after something so amazing. So right. “Are you sure you’re not pissed because I got jealous over Chase? It was in the heat of the moment. I don’t care who you’ve slept with.”
She grabbed a few things from her bag and shook her head. “No, I liked that you cared enough to claim me from him. It really wasn’t anything to be jealous of. We both went too far, and I think it scared the shit out of him as badly as it scared me.”
Jake frowned. Chase had more control than that, even when out of control. “Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Jake. Everything is perfect.” And she went into the bathroom and pulled the door closed.
“Perfect, my ass.” He had become an excellent liar by learning to read between the lines. Her claim of perfect was so far between the lines he could read it from over a mile away. Without Chase’s fancy rifle scope. Perfect was a lie.
She could have tonight to regroup, to think. In the morning, she’d have to answer him. Because there was no way in hell he was buying her everything’s perfect act.
****
Tia felt numb. Her limbs numb, her mind numb. She went to the claw foot tub and climbed in, turning the shower on full force, not caring if it was too hot, too cold, or just right. Then she hugged her arms to herself and sank down, her fingernails biting into the opposite arm, the pain welcomed since everything seemed so numb.
The tears came next, sliding wet and hot down her cheeks, mixing with the cold water. Her shoulders shook on a sob, then another, and she bit her palm to keep from wailing. Jake couldn’t know. He’d be relentless, like a dog with a bone, and she couldn’t confess what she now knew.
And as she cried, the intense pain returned, the pain that made her heart ache as if it were bound with bondage tape. The same pain she’d felt during wedding sex. It was not the pain she usually sought during sex—not like being spanked or clamped or caned. She liked that pain. This pain was agony that had laced with her desire, and like a paper airplane, it had soared higher until her orgasm blew a flame of fire, igniting it to cinder. Now it burned again, the coals hot in her chest, her throat scorched.
Even as much of a masochist as she was, the intense pleasure of orgasm during wedding sex had stabbed her heart, made it bleed and writhe until she couldn’t stand the pain any longer. Somehow, she had fought it and had brought it under control, tamping it down until she felt absolutely nothing. That was almost worse.
But the pain of orgasm also proved something, something that brought her to this point, shaking on the floor of his tub.
She knew exactly why she hadn’t been able to come before, and God help her, she knew why she’d never come again. She kept the memory at bay and, instead, focused on the feelings because she didn’t want to be numb any longer. The feeling of being used, second best, a whore. Jake had let her drop those feelings and inhibitions and with wedding sex had put her first. He’d made her something pure, almost virginal, and she didn’t deserve that.
Even discipline wedding sex had been intense, probably because he was punishing her for something real, tangible, and again had claimed her. She shifted in the shower and cradled her head on her knees, hugging them to her chest.
Her sex with Chase had included edgeplay, and she’d made him indulge in hardcore s/m with her. She had welcomed the direction his physical and mental discipline had taken. Even when he had given her a chance to safeword out on more than one occasion, she had pushed him, harder, until she didn’t care if she died in his arms. And she almost had. It had scared him shitless—he’d never called after and she never expected him to. That wasn’t the point.
But Jake… Jake was someone she could hand her reins to, and that was very, very bad. She could envision Jake removing the armor she wore, leaving her defenseless, vulnerable. That was her deepest, darkest fantasy. To be totally submissive, to give over every ounce of herself to a man, to deserve to be dominated in every way, shape, or form.
But this domination would be wholesome, good, and not the sick mental games she usually made men play. Jake’s brand of domination would be so much more, deeper, more soulful than wedding sex. The pain in her heart would kill her if she went that far with him. If her heart couldn’t take a little wedding sex role play, how would she handle total domination with him?
She wiped the tears from her eyes and stood, turning the water to a hotter setting. She washed his essence from her body, hating the tingle she still felt on her skin, his musky male scent branding her. Her pussy still spasmed now and then, reminding her of the pleasure, the intense feelings she’d experienced. She didn’t deserve them again.
Tomorrow, there would be no more wedding sex. Tomorrow, he’d go back to fucking her like they usually fucked. The wedding was over. She’d convince him he had done his job, and she’d go back to faking her orgasms.
Some things were meant to be experienced over and over. Some things were meant to be experienced once. Wedding sex with Jake—that was definitely a once. She didn’t think her heart could handle more than that.