“Ivy Markham,” I said, said it as if I were introducing her to an audience. “Ivy Markham. My wife.”
Her control fractured and she turned her head to peer up at me, her dark eyes wide and pleading. If I hadn’t already been hard, that look would have done me in.
She shrieked as my hand came down on her ass, hard enough that it stung my palm and I could see the livid lines of each finger on her skin. My cock twitched against my trousers, begging to be let free. I spanked her again, and again, and again, my breathing growing more ragged with exertion and arousal, my stomach clenching into a hot fist of angry desire.
I was angry. Yes, I could feel it, such a twin passion to lust, both so fiery, so energetic, both restless, agitating, primal feelings.
She could feel my anger too, I could tell, as her ass glowed red. Tears were sliding slow and silent from her eyes, dripping onto the tablecloth, and God, I wanted to lick those tears. I wanted to swallow her cries. I never considered myself a sadist—I preferred control, not pain—but in that moment, where the cost of four months of alienation and longing finally reared its ugly head, there was something so deeply, deeply moving about her offering physical pain to me, about her letting me exorcise this on her willing body. It scratched an itch somewhere so deep inside that I’d hadn’t known it was there, and I felt drunk with the relief of it.
I paused my work and took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a minute. Not because I was afraid of hurting her—she knew what to say to get me to stop—and because even as undone and raw as I was at this moment, I still knew her limits and my own strength. No, I needed a moment because if I kept going, I was going to abandon all of my plans and fuck her right now. And while I knew it would be delicious and healing, I wanted more than healing. I wanted renewal. I wanted rebirth.
When I opened my eyes, they fell on the bottle of oil near the center of the table, kept for vegetables and bread, and I entertained the brief but intoxicating fantasy of drizzling that oil on her most intimate parts, of working it into her ass and then fucking her there in a fit of hot, slippery glory.
I forced myself back. The monster before the husband, I reminded myself. There would be time for both.
Instead, I bent myself over her body, pressing my rigid dick against her naked ass as I spoke low in her ear. “All this time that you’ve been lost to me, you’ve never spoken your signal.”
My face was so close to hers that I felt rather than saw the confusion break through her mindless sensation. “What?” she asked, voice cracking.
I let my fingers trail over her hip and then back down to her ass. I slid my hand between my pelvis and hers, finding the tight, dry pucker I’d just fantasized about, and then dropping farther down to her slick, swollen cunt.
“Think about it, Mrs. Markham. All the times you shut yourself off from me, all the times in the past four months that you’ve laid back and became nothing more than an inanimate doll—why did you not simply tell me no? Why not use your safe word, when you know that I’d always honor it?”
&nbs
p; “I…” Her voice was shaky and indistinct, as if she were struggling to formulate thoughts. “I…wanted to be a good spouse. I wanted you to get what you needed.”
There…I found her clit, now a ripe little bundle, practically begging to be rubbed, pinched, plucked. I grazed a fingertip past her, so lightly as to barely touch her at all, and she moaned loudly into the table.
“See, I don’t think that’s true,” I told her. “I think that’s what you told yourself. I think that’s maybe even what you still believe. But deep down, there is another answer. The real answer. Do you know what it is?”
I shoved two fingers past the soft lips guarding her entrance, shoved them in deep. She moaned again, rolling her face against the table.
“I don’t know,” she managed, her feet scrabbling adorably at the carpet in her effort to open her legs wider, raise her hips higher to me.
“Yes, you do.” Leaving my fingers in her, I straightened and used my other hand to smack her ass again. She gasped, and then I took my fingers from her pussy and rubbed around her other entrance, using her own wetness to ease a finger inside, then two. She was trying and failing to catch her breath, her fingers turning into claws, twisting into the tablecloth. Wine glasses and vases of flowers were knocked over, and the sound of that coupled with the feeling of her ass like a scorching furnace around my finger was enough to break my resolve. Just a touch. That wouldn’t throw anything off, certainly, just a few strokes in and out to head off this desire and keep my head clear.
I reached down and unfastened my trousers, my dick tilting forward, but still pointing almost straight up. In a moment’s work, I had the oil in hand and spread around the crinkled skin, my shaft also covered with a glossy sheen, ready to take her dark flesh.
I pressed the head of my cock against her and she cried out.
“Yes,” she whimpered. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Careful with that word, Mrs. Markham,” I said, halting my movement. “You don’t know what you’re saying yes to.”
“I’m saying yes to you, Julian,” she said, and it was so open, so vulnerable, the way she said my name, that all of my anger and all of my lust was now bound up with the tenderest feelings that a man can have for a woman. My precious wildcat, my sweet wife, whom I had vowed to take care of and whom I’d failed these last months.
No more.
I gritted my teeth and leaned forward, the sensation of her tight, tight skin giving way enough to make my balls tighten, and I wasn’t even inside yet.
“You didn’t answer my question from before.”
I talked as I pushed, going so slowly that it would almost be like I wasn’t moving at all, except I could see the incremental progress as her body swallowed my dick, took it deep within herself. She cried out as the wide crest of my cock finally pushed past the initial resistance, and I gave a little hiss, but I continued with my lecture.
“You know what I think? I think you didn’t use our signal because you wanted me to come after you. You wanted me to take you like you needed to be taken—roughly, without question, completely subject to my discipline. You needed me to crack open the shell of motherhood and let the wildcat back out, and instead, I let you fester inside of it.”
I finally slid home, buried to the balls, and her skin was so hot, so tight, and would I ever get enough of every part of her? Especially now that her body was so much fuller, so much riper, a body that begged to be kneaded and worshipped—and fuck, she was bucking into me, her body stroking me as I stayed still, and I was going to come right here and now if she didn’t stop, I was going to shoot my load in her beautiful ass, and I had other plans for it…and for her.
