“Your cum is dripping out of me, Sebastian, if I sit down, it’s going to mark the fucking furniture.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Mark the fucking furniture. I’ll frame the fucking spots and put a sign over them for prosperity. I’m not done with you yet, Little Whore, and I won’t be until you’re sloppy and gushing with my cum. Then and only then will I let you wash me off.” Grabbing her around the waist, I swing her into my arms, pinning her wrists to her sides as I carry her to the wall, pressing her back into the cool plaster as I spread her legs and slam my cock back into her.
Not concerned with her pleasure, I fuck her in fast strokes, chasing my own release as I hold her legs up, dragging her down onto my cock as I fuck up into her. It doesn’t take long for me to explode, and when I do, it feels like the cum is dragged from my balls.
Her eyes are wide when I slowly slip my dick out of her and lower her to the floor. “Go and sit on the fucking couch,” I order. “Lift your skirt and make sure your ass and pussy are on the fabric.”
I see the exact moment she contemplates telling me no. Holding my breath, I wait for her to argue, to refuse to obey. Her lips part, and I can practically taste her refusal on the air, but instead of speaking, she strips her dress over her head, drops it to the floor at our feet, then saunters to the couch and sits down, spreading her legs wide as she spins and rests her feet on the cushions.
There’s rebellion in the tension in her shoulders and the twitching in her jaw, but she’s still doing as I say, even as her brain is pushing her not to.
I’m not upset by her behavior. Instead, it confirms what I already know. That everything between us is perfect. She’s pissed at me and what I’ve told her to do, but she’s not threatening to leave me, or making me terrified that I’ve pushed her too far.
She’s obeyed me with spit and ire in her eyes, but she’s still obeying, because deep down she enjoys my control. She needs this just as much as I do.
Instead of going straight to her, I unfasten the buttons on my shirt and take it off. Kicking my pants off, I drag my boxers down my calves, then throw them toward the pile of fabric on the floor.
Grabbing all of our discarded clothes, I calmly carry them into the laundry and drop them into the hamper, giving myself and my dick a minute to recover. Tense energy still sparks in the air when I step back into the den, but ignoring it, I stride over to the couch and sit down beside her, lifting her legs into my lap.
“Our couch is ruined,” she snaps, her lips pressed into a firm, unimpressed line.
“Fuck the couch,” I growl, dipping my thumb into the mess that’s oozing out of her cunt and using it to lube up her clit before I start to rub. Moving in slow clockwise movements, I tease her until her butt starts to lift from the couch. Freezing, I don’t move until she sits back down again.
Over and over, I use my cum to coat her bundle of nerves, pushing her closer and closer to the edge but not allowing her to fall over. Each time I stop, she spits a stream of insults at me from her perfectly pouty mouth.
Wrapping one hand around my dick, I work my cock in rhythm with my thumb on her clit, winding myself up as I wind her up. When my balls ache with the need to come, I drag herinto my lap and rub her clit until she orgasms, then force my dick inside of her as a fresh stream of cum bursts from the head.
Once our breathing has settled, I start the tease all over again, this time plunging my fingers into her soaked core, working her up, only to force her back down again, until we’re both on the verge of release and I push my cock into her and pump more of my cum into her cunt.
After several hours, when her pussy has taken six loads of my cum, I finally stop teasing her, my dick too spent to get hard again.
“Now, the furniture is ruined,” I tell her, looking at the huge wet patch beneath her ass.
Her giggles are music to my ears, and by the time I carry her to bed, I know that everything that’s changing between us isn’t an obstacle. It’s just a stepping stone to the next stage in our happily ever after.
NINE
STARLING
My body feelssore in all the best ways when I wake up beside Sebastian the next morning. We’ve had sex more times in the weeks since the start of the semester than we’ve ever had before. Something about the way he doesn’t ask for permission or check that I’m okay and instead takes what needs makes me insanely hot.
Our sex life has always been amazing, but now…now I’m like Pavlov’s dog the moment the front door opens and he walks into the house.
Outside of sex, our marriage feels…settled and peaceful. I’ve always loved Sebastian. I love how crazy he is. I love how unapologetically psychotic he is. But until recently, I only loved our life together about fifty percent of the time. The other fifty percent I had to work hard to convince myself that I love him more than I hate him.
Glancing to my right, I roll to my side and take the chance to watch him while he sleeps. I don’t remember the last time he slept later than me, but seeing him so calm and peaceful makes me sigh with happiness.
I know that letting him fuck me whenever and however he wants isn’t the key to a happy marriage, but it has allowed us some balance. Only weeks ago, our life felt like a teeter-totter, going up and down, as I fought to exert some control over my autonomy, and he battled to take that control back from me.
But it has changed things between us. I’m sure he still watches my tracker, but I don’t feel like he’s bracing to tackle me to the ground every time I get up to use the bathroom.
He switched my degree to an online program, but honestly, I love not having to go to campus, and it only takes me half the amount of time to get all my schoolwork finished. A week ago he relented and agreed that instead of having to take my full security team with me whenever I leave the house, I can just take James, and that the rest could follow me discreetly like they’ve been doing for the last few years.
As invasive as it is having a permanent bodyguard, he also acts as my driver, so I don’t have to try to drive myself. Sebastian tolerates me driving myself places on occasion, but honestly, we both know I’m a terrible driver, and I much prefer having my ninja drive me wherever I want to go.
He’s stopped telling me what I’m doing and started asking my opinion, from the small things like what color couch I want to replace the one we destroyed to what I think I’d like to do after I graduate. For the first time I feel seen by my husband and not just as property but as his wife and the woman he wants to spend the rest of forever with.
When my cell beeps, I grab it from where it’s on charge on my bedside table and pull it in front of my face. I have a handful of notifications, so I scroll through them, cringing at the photos from the baby shower I’ve been tagged in. I’m dancing, laughing, and very obviously drunk in most of them, although there are a few from the start of the party, where I’m posing with Evan,Sammy, and Sebastian, and my eyes only look a little glazed, not completely vacant.
