“Please, sir, please ruin your—your m-masochistic cockslut,” he whimpered, the words causing his ears to redden.
“Good boy,” I cooed in response.
I stripped off my pants quickly, my cock springing free, throbbing and ready. I spit on my cock and my fingers, then worked two of them into him without warning.
He yelped, clenching around me, but pushed back greedily. “Yes—fuck, yes.”
My other hand had landed on the couch by his midsection, and he quickly made me aware of how much that displeased him.
He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, tugging and digging into my skin with his nails. “Please, my neck, please…”
I scissored him open roughly, curling to hit that spot that he loved, all while my hand returned to his throat. Choke, release, choke—each cycle had him moaning louder, his cock dripping onto his stomach.
“Ready?” I asked, but didn’t wait, lining up and thrusting in deep with one stroke. He was tight and burning hot, gripping me like a vice as I bottomed out.
“Ahhh,” he groaned, head falling back, exposing more of his neck for me. “H-hurts! More, more—”
I set a brutal pace right away, hips snapping forward, balls slapping against him, watching his face contort in ecstasy. He was mine like this, completely. There was no room for brattiness when I was buried in his ass, controlling his very breath.
“Come for me,” I commanded after a few minutes, squeezing his throat even harder as I fucked him relentlessly, angling to pound his prostate.
He shattered with a strangled cry, cum shooting across his chest in thick ropes, his body convulsing around me. The sight pushed me over, and I buried deep, spilling inside him with a low groan, hand finally releasing his throat.
We stayed like that for a moment, panting, my forehead against his as he caught his breath. He smiled weakly, sated. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” I whispered, kissing him gently before pulling out, already planning to clean him up and carry him to bed.
17
Ronan
It was our fourth day of vacation when, despite daily maintenance spankings and having a great time exploring the resort, I started feeling an itch under my skin.
My options were to either tell Wes and see if he would be able to beat it out of me or to sneak off to one of the nearby towns to satisfy the urge.
And considering that he’d been very against murder being a fun vacation activity, I was going to have to go behind his back.
Which was why I was presently mixing a little baggie of powder into his hot chocolate.
“Ro?” Wes called from the bedroom, probably curious as to why I was taking so long.
“Coming,” I called back casually. “Just making sure it’s perfect.”
The powder dissolved easily into the heat, disappearing with a slow stir of the spoon. I felt a bit guilty about drugging my husband, but it was for the best. Once this itch was handled, we’d go back to our relaxing, no-murder-allowed vacation.
I walked from the kitchen into the bedroom, both mugs in hand, to find Wes propped up against two pillows, his e-reader in hand.
I tried to ignore the sight of his bare chest, with all of that glorious chest hair begging to be licked.
I handed his mug over, then sank down beside him, tucking into his side and taking a sip of my own drink.
His arm came around me automatically, hand resting against my hip, thumb moving in slow, absentminded strokes through the fabric of my shirt while his attention drifted back to the screen.
I took another sip of my drink and watched him from the corner of my eye as he did the same.
“I saw that we’ll be getting a few more inches of snow tonight,” he said, not looking up. “Little winter storm coming through the region.”
I frowned. “We’ll still be able to do stuff outside tomorrow, though, right?”
