“Whatcha got there, sailor?”
He smiles, his teeth glinting and the corners of his eyes creasing. It’s that devious grin he only seems to offer me, the one that marries the two parts of himself—his monsters and his morals.
“This?” he asks, producing a long, thin dildo-like wand with seven balls on it that gradually increase in size, ranging from about a quarter inch to maybe one and a half, spaced evenly along it. “This is going in your ass because no part of you is off-limits to me.”
Well,fuck, I didn’t see that coming.
“At your service, Cap,” I breathe.
His lips twitch, battling against the amusement threatening to billow out of him. “Cap?”
“With plans like that, a promotion is in order.” I grant him an exaggerated wink, and he finally succumbs to his boisterous laugh, but he reins it in swiftly and proffers a haughty smirk while humming in reverence.
“My perfect wife. Crawl to me, baby girl.”
That’s even more erotic leaving his lips than it was in my imagination.
My arousal coats my inner thighs as I inch forward, nearly freezing because my clit is pulsing with each plod, inhibiting my motionwith a yearning to halt and be touched. He’s not very far from me, so I forge ahead, my breaths ragged, my skin heating, my heart thrumming a fervent tempo.
And his cognacs brim with a glossy reverence, one that infiltrates all the hidden places inside of me—every crevice and cranny and hole ofnot enoughand shelved purpose. He’s still too immersed in clawing his way out of his own carnage and pain to see how he’s eased mine, how what he considers a prison has become my haven. Stripped bare on my hands and knees for him, I’m more me than I’ve ever been.
“Fucking hell, you’re magnificent,” he hisses, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Look at you. You’re breathtaking.”
As I stop before him, he pets my head with palming strokes. “Such a good girl for me,” he praises before extending more instructions. “Spin around, chest on the floor, ass up.”
After I obey his command, he stoops behind me, and I can feel his probing ogle boring into me as his fingers thrust inside my pussy.
“Christ, baby. So goddamn gorgeous and always sopping for me. You’re so drenched; I won’t even need lube.” He smears some of my juices on my ass before settling on a different tactic and plunging the dildo into my heat, coating it with a few aggressive thrusts and pulling it back out.
The loss is immediately devastating, and a whimper escapes me.
“Shh,” he coos in his sultry rasp, which only lends a more salacious slant to the whole scene. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you filled everywhere. You’ll have my cum dripping out of you for days. And someday soon, I’ll put a baby inside you.”
A baby? I think my ovaries just somersaulted in triumph.
Bulldozing past that little bomb, he starts working the toy in, and while a sting burns through me as each ball forces past the resistance, the intrusion is surprisingly smooth. Full but comfortable. And the spanks he imparts on my flesh once he’s satisfied—two flat-palmed smacks to each cheek with a kneading balm in between—only rev me up into a greater fervor.
Never knowing which version of Ty I’m getting in our intimacy has become one of my most cherished parts of us. Sometimes, he’s unhinged, so engulfed by his zealous thirst for me that he loses his damn mind. But at other times, he’s deliberate. Controlled. Like he’s savoring the exchange. Worshipping me. Each undo me in equal measure. Both reveal that for at least a few fleeting moments, he can unchain himself from his penance and simply live.
With me. Because of me.
“Jesus, I’ll never stop loving my handprints on your luscious ass, the way your skin blooms a pretty pink.” He glides his palm along my spine, his minty breath fanning over my skin to flourish full-body goose bumps. “Claiming you.” A nip near my rib cage. “Marking you.” His teeth sink into my shoulder with a delicious prickle before he soothes it with a languid stroke of his tongue. “Making sure the world knows you’re mine”—another nibble on my neck—“that you are my greatest gift.”
But then he’s gone, striding away from me, while I hang out here with my exposed ass in the air, wondering what’s next and nursing a loneliness from his sudden distance that doesn’t quite seem rational, until his voice finally shreds the solemn anticipation.
“There’s a cushion against the wall. Sit on it and face me.”
Noting the cushion that he’s referring to, I crawl over to it and prop myself against the wall as he ordered. He’s perched on the edge of the couch—the location of my escape-plan blow job—staring back at me.
“Spread your legs wide open for me. I want to see all of you, baby.” He waits with a sternness to his features for me to comply. “Best view in the world is right where I’m sitting. Now, play with your pretty pussy, sweet girl. I need to watch you come before I fuck you into oblivion.”
Before I can respond, the dildo in my ass begins to vibrate, which evokes a gasp. “Holy shit.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. You like that, don’t you? My kinky wife. Wish it were my cock there?”
I nod, breathless, and my fingers wander to my throbbing clit of their own accord, waltzing in the rhythm that rockets me to my peak the fastest.
“So fucking greedy. Don’t rush it. Dip those fingers inside your glistening cunt,” he says, low and controlled, but every word oozes a ravenous hunger.
