After a moment, I nodded slowly. The pain was slowly ebbing away the longer he stayed still, allowing that simmering sensation—the one I couldn’t name—to rise to a slow boil. I realized that my nipples were tight and hard, that wetness was dripping from my cunt.
“I want you to relax again. Be my wildcat, be my kitten. Purr and arch and let me pet you. Give yourself entirely over to me right now. Yes, out in the world and in our marriage, you are your own woman, and I would not have it any other way. But in our bed, you are mine; your thoughts, your actions, your gasps and your moans. They are all mine and I would not have that any other way.”
His words rolled over me, reassuring in their security, in the safety they represented. The safety I hadn’t known until today that I needed.
“Yes,” I assented, and I relaxed, feeling everything in me loosen and sigh with relief. “Julian?”
His hands tightened around me at the sound of his name. “Yes, wildcat?” His voice was husky and deep and he sounded near tears.
“I am yours. Take me.”
He held me with his strong arms as he rocked back, so that he was sitting on his heels and I was sitting on him, facing the fire, his cock still deep within me. His fingers found my lower lips and then delved in, curling up as his palm ground against my clit. I melted into him, the pleasure making me loosen, and he slid the tiniest fraction deeper into me.
“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Good. Now I’m going to set you down and start fucking you again. And you have my permission to come.”
He eased me forward and then helped me turn, so that I lay spread on my back. He slowly stroked in and out of me as he gently rubbed my clitoris, and the first jolt of true pleasure made me cry out.
“What is it?” he asked kindly.
“It…” I could barely speak, for that dark simmer had now erupted into something more intense than I’d ever felt before. “…It feels good.”
“It’s going to feel even better when you come with my cock in your ass,” he promised. “Just stay with me. Feel me.”
And I did feel him, every single inch of him, as he pulled out and pushed in. I was panting now, the past hour of denial catching up with me, my body demanding to orgasm even with this new type of pleasure that so closely resembled pain. Mr. Markham grabbed my bound hands and guided them to my swollen center, pressing my fingertips to my bud. “Rub yourself,” he commanded, and then he plunged two fingers into my cunt. I did as he ordered, watching his eyes grow darker and darker as he watched me—breasts moving, tied hands pleasuring myself, his shaft pistoning in and out of my virgin ass.
“Keep rubbing,” he said, and then used both hands to take my hips. He began pounding hard and deep, but instead of crying out, I grunted and moaned like an animal, feeling a deep surge of pleasure every time he slammed himself home. My hands worked faster and faster on my clit, and then, on a particularly deep thrust, I felt my orgasm coalesce, a looming shape gathering form and strength. It would pull me under, I knew, and I resisted it, twisting sideways and pulling my hands up to my chest.
“Oh no you don’t,” Julian growled, pressing my shoulder back into the rug. “I’m taking you with me.”
He pressed close enough so that the hard muscle above his cock rubbed against my center, and he fucked me with short, fast thrusts that kneaded my clitoris while his cock stroked my ass. I was writhing uncontrollably now, and I no longer knew if I was writhing away or toward him, only that there was nothing left but the fire he had lit and continued to stoke, and everything in me felt so deliciously wound up, so deliciously full and hot, and I was going to come so hard.
&nbs
p; “That’s a good pet,” Mr. Markham said, still growling. “Come for me, sweetheart. I want to watch that pussy clench while I spill into your ass.”
It came like a storm—like a hurricane—an unstoppable and devastating force of nature that could not be stayed or diminished. His words removed the last line of resistance, and with a flutter, my clit spasmed, and then my core clenched and released, and then wave after perfect, impossible wave roared through me. I was crying or I was screaming—I was too far gone to know which—but as I rode out the fury of my climax, I saw the naked lust in Julian’s eyes as he watched my cunt, watched it pulse and weep. He drove in hard and harder and even harder, until there was no knowing where he ended and I began. And with deep long pulses, he jetted hot bursts of cum into me, pressing in and grinding his dick into my channel with a primitive, cruel strength.
It took minutes for my orgasm to fade, or perhaps it was hours, but when I came to, the fire was still popping merrily on the andiron and I was on Mr. Markham’s bare chest, wrapped securely in his arms.
“Give me your left hand, wildcat.”
I obeyed, every muscle limp and sated. I felt the cool metal of my engagement ring slide over my knuckles, and I sighed in pure contentment.
“There.” His voice was a deep rumble below my ear. “You are mine again, are you not?”
I nodded. I was irrevocably his, every square inch of me, no matter how hidden.
“And I am yours, Ivy. If only you knew how much I am yours.”
I nuzzled my face into his chest and let sleep drift over me, not realizing until I was almost past the threshold of unconsciousness that he was saying my name, over and over again, like a man chanting a prayer.
Ivy. Ivy. Ivy.
I hadn’t realized I’d been asleep until I awoke.
Strong fingers were rubbing my back, my shoulders, my thighs, massaging a warm oil into my skin and kneading my sore muscles. My eyelashes fluttered open, making a soft whispering noise against the bedsheets. I was on my stomach in Mr. Markham’s bed, and everything I could feel ached—ached in a way that was so delicious and satisfying that it barely hurt at all.
“Keep resting, wildcat,” Mr. Markham said, his hands now on my calves. “Let me take care of you.”
