Page 62 of Always Alchemy

I laugh. ‘That’s a lie, and you know it.’ We’ve definitely crept in here on many an occasion. The benefits of working with your wife in an actual sex club are infinite.

‘Okay,’ she says with a pout, ‘but we’re not usually dressed likethis.’

‘Excellent point well made, Mrs French.’ I smile at her as I hold the blindfold up to her eyes and tie it gently at the back of her head.

‘Fluff my hair out, will you? I don’t want blindfold head.’

‘I don’t think that’s a thing, sweetheart,’ I say as I oblige, fanning out her dark curls so they tease the golden skin of her shoulders and chest and arms.

I help her gain her foothold on the cross and then stoop so I can buckle the leather cuffs around each ankle. Her legs are smooth and glossy. I kiss the inside of her knee, just above where the leather straps of her sandals stop, and then, rising slowly to my feet, I kiss my way up one thigh beforepressing my mouth to that lace-covered spot just north of her pubic bone.

She sighs happily and strokes along my shoulders until she finds my neck. My hair.

‘Let’s get your hands fastened,’ I say, snagging her wrist so I can kiss her pulse point.

‘Okay.’ She holds her arms up, and I work on fastening them. And then, when my wife is nicely trussed up, I take a step back to admire my handiwork.

‘Absolutely ravishing,’ I pronounce, and she smiles.

‘Ravish me, then.’

I glance back towards the door. ‘Graf’ll be here any second. He was just taking a leak.’ I wouldn’t have restrained her arms above her head if he wasn’t yet imminent.

‘Come on,’ she whispers. ‘Give me something to think about so I really do look turned on in the photos.’

I skim my hands up her thighs, following the curves of her hips, dipping in at her waist and then dragging them upwards so I can palm her beautiful little tits. ‘I can’t think what you mean.’

‘Mmm. Rub them hard, darling.’

‘Like this?’ I find her nipples through the fabric and rub them until they become hard little points. ‘Does the lace make it feel better?’

She inhales sharply through her teeth. ‘Oh God, yes. Just like that.’

‘My little slave girl likes knowing she’s in my hands, I think,’ I muse. I remove one hand and slide it between her legs where the lace is hot and damp. ‘She likes knowing her master can do whatever the fuck he wants to her and she has to take it.’

Jesus fucking Christ, I should get her up on this thing farmore often. It’s so insanely hot, having my wife trussed up like this.

‘Oh my God,’ she moans, trying to thrust against my hand, but she doesn’t have much leverage in this position.

I tug the lace to one side and drive a couple of fingers roughly inside her, kissing her jawline instead of her mouth so I don’t ruin her lipstick.

‘She likes knowing I’ve bought her. She’s mine to do every single unspeakable thing I want to her.’

Unspeakable things.

The phrase that Maddy used to proposition me when she figured out how badly I wanted to use her beautiful body to release all my pain and grief and stress on.

The phrase we still whisper to each other whenever we’re feeling horny.

The phrase that feels even more illicit and filthy with my wife playing a crucified slave girl for me.

‘Sir.’ Her breath comes in big, ragged gasps as I drive my fingers wetly in and out and work her clit with rough swipes of my thumb. She’s panting, shaking, and I marvel, as I often do, at how wonderfully responsive my wife is, how quickly I can get her from nought to sixty.

‘My slave girl needs to come really fucking quickly for her master,’ I say now, my cock an agonisingly rigid pole against my zipper, ‘or she won’t get to come at all.’

‘Jesus. Harder.Harder.’

‘Please, sir.’

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