Page 132 of Prey Tell
The use of my old name on his lips makes me shatter around his cock, and I convulse against his chest as he roars, spilling deep inside of me. I see white as I rock against him, as my body shudders with pleasure. I feel the way I soak the hand still working my clit, hear his satisfied moan, and the way his cock jumps inside of me. I try to lower my leg, but he holds me tightly.
“Don’t fucking move,” he breathes, maneuvering out of me and carefully turning me so that I’m on my back. “Legs closed, love,” he mutters, grabbing a nearby pillow and propping it up underneath my ass.
I laugh. “You realize this is an old wives’ tale, right?”
He kisses me softly on the lips. “Yes, but why take a chance? You think I won’t make you hold it all in? You’re going to be so full of my cum by the time I’m done with you, Juliet.”
My stomach swoops low at his words. “Promise?” I ask, reaching out for his face.
“I have one job,” he murmurs, peppering kisses along my jaw. “And I never half-ass anything. Especially not the most important thing I’ll ever do.”
* * *
Chase
I sip my scotch as my wife dozes on the other side of the bedroom, her worn-out body prone on our large, four-poster bed. I have another business trip on Monday, so I am making up for lost time, and perhaps that meant I was a bit too rough with her. Still, she never used the safe word—and I know she’s not afraid to, as she’s used bothredandyellownumerous times in the past. Her ass is still red, a dark bruise forming where I used the crop. Grimacing, I drain the last of my scotch and stand, walking into the bathroom.
When I emerge, Juliet is watching me with tired, hooded eyes.
“We should do some more of this,” I tell her, holding up the tub of soothing lotion.
She nods lazily, still riding the high of our scene. The more intense our play is, the harder she feels it after—that hazy, happy feeling. Most nights, I lay awake and watch her, ensuring I can take care of her in every way imaginable. Today, especially, I am keeping a close eye on her. Making sure she’s hydrated, fed, warm, comforted…
I finish rubbing the lotion into her bruise. “You should go back to sleep,” I murmur. “It will help.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.
I run my fingers through her long hair, pulling the covers over her so that she stays warm. “Then we’ll try again next month. And the month after. Until you’re swollen with the next Ravage heir, Juliet,” I whisper, brushing her hair off her back. “And if it never works, then we will figure out our next step together. You know I’m open to anything. Adoption, too.”
She smiles and lets out a contented sigh.Thisis the version of my wife that I love the most. Exhausted and boneless from giving her pleasure all day long, vulnerable, half-asleep, sotrustingand willing to take my help and my tender words. It’s this, when she gives into me fully, that I can see all the ways she’s perfect for me. How we fit so fucking perfectly together.
It’s why I married her three months after we started dating. And I would’ve married her sooner if I could have. I would have agreed to it the day she came to Ravage Castle wanting to play.
She offered herself to me that day, and I took it all.
Just like a dragon hoarding his gold.
And now, she was ready to start our family.
Here, in Northern California, almost four years into her job as a professor, and six months after buying our dream house out in the middle of nowhere. Jackson had claimed their childhood home with his now husband, Mark, so it made sense for us to put down roots near her job. Besides, she’d always have the house to go back to, now that Jackson was living there.
I’m still not sure how everything turned out so perfectly, but it did.
And I’ll forever be grateful for it. Forher.For giving me a second chance.
“Chase?” she asks, reaching for my hand.
I lace my fingers with hers. “Yes, my love?” I lie down next to her so that we’re facing each other.
“Tell me again,” she says, smiling. Her voice is thick with sleep.
I pull her closer so that her body is pressed against mine, resting my chin on top of her head as my arms wrap around her chest.
I chuckle. “It was the pros and cons list that did me in officially,” I joke, and she lets out a small huff of laughter.
“I’m serious. Tell me again what you wanted to do that night.”
She likes to ask about that night when she’s still in a sub drop. I suppose making her ruminate over my words for eight years will do that to a person. I’ve since apologized a million times over.
