Chapter Seventy-One
“Breathe.” A single word. Raw… Harsh…
And utterly beguiling.
I draw air, then expel it once more as penetrating again, now more deeply, his thick shaft stretches me. My core melts as he fills me, heating and liquefying…
The hard edge to his voice softens. “Good girl. That’s it…”
Another withdrawal. And a re-penetration. And now, my Master fills me completely, the heat of his flesh matching my own as he presses hard to me, his thighs against mine. The slight roughness of his groin to the smoothness of my ass. And he holds, unmoving.
My breath catches and shudders. Inside, my flesh flutters, dancing around his, my arousal brimming as he teases, flirting with my pussy. He’s doing it deliberately, I know. Making me wait. But his breathing is unsteady.
Without warning, he withdraws, then rams home, knocking the air from my lungs and a wild sound from my throat…
… a single stroke…
… and once more, he holds…
Then, another thrust. Ramrod hard. Spearing me. Skewering me.
As I cry out, the hands release me at the hips, one arm instead looping around my waist, the other wrapping around to lie between my breasts, both tugging me upright onto my knees.
Upthrusting, buried deep inside me, he pinches at a nipple, twisting hard, wrenching another cry from me. And lower, fingers scissor down and in, parting my folds, slipping around my clit. A thumb, already slippery as I spill hot and liquid, pulls back the hood, exposing my bud to the onslaught of his fingers.
The pain at my nipple shocks down, spiking into my already molten pussy. I would jolt, but my Master holds me in an iron grip. He arcs his face close to mine, his whispered words loud so close to my ear. “Good, my Love?”
“Oh, God, yes…”
“Let’s see if we can do better than good.”
Fingers still assault my clit, but the palm shifts. Flat against my belly, it presses hard, but behind me, my Master moves, grinding in, rotating his hips, the exquisite hardness of his penis corkscrewing into my G-spot. Robbed of my voice, I can only gasp and whimper and shudder.
The Rush is coming. The heat inside. The pressure like no other. Welling up from somewhere deep. Like heat. Like electricity. Like tension. It radiates from my core, swirling out, winding and twisting as my Master winds and twists his body into mine.
The heat soars. The electricity sparks and fizzes. The tension hums like ropes vibrating in the wind.
My climax mushrooms, then skyrockets, then starbursts.
My body tries to break free, tries to buck and spasm, but the grip around me tightens, and the relentless winding pressure inside me only surges. Harder. Faster. More powerful.
Pulse upon ecstatic pulse undulates through me, taking my mind and my sight with it.
I think I’m screaming.
I’m not sure…
Until… “Enough! Enough!. Stop, Master! Please stop!” Instantly, the hand withdraws from my stomach, releasing the pressure on my pummeled insides and twitching, still palpitating, clit. The arm supporting me at the waist remains, simply slackening a little.
Unmoving now, nonetheless, he’s still deep inside me. “Elizabeth?” Concern tinges his voice. “Are you…?”
Recovering the power of speech, “Apology accepted, Master.”
Then I jolt as a bolt of afterburn sizzles my pussy. Released, panting, quivering uncontrollably, I drop down onto my hands.
Laughter rattles silently through his chest. “Very good of you.” The arm tightens again, but now in a caress, joined by its partner, folding around me. “Shhhh…”
He moves again, but now for himself. Steady strokes, regular, starting slowly, but gradually accelerating. His breathing grows heavier again, faster. The thrusts grow more powerful. Air rasps close by my ear. The double beat of his heart reverberates through my ribcage…
My Master stills… Groans… Then, hips grinding, he gasps…
Shuddering once…
Twice…
Thrice…
He coughs…
… then, with a grunt, releases me, withdraws and drops down beside me.
“Waahh!” The syllable bursts from his throat.
Flat on his back, swiping double-handed over his face, he wipes away sweat, then turns a sunbeam smile on me. “My God, but we’re lucky, you and I.”
“So we are, Master…” I snuggle under his offered arm, my hand lying on his chest. “… So we are.”
My face pressed against his chest, I scent him. His skin. His flesh. The hint of some body splash. The fragrance of our lovemaking. The aroma of my Master. My Husband. My Lover.
My Dream…
After a while, I say, “It's only coming home to me now, what it means to be your wife.”
He shifts, the movement uncertain. “Tell me what it means, Elizabeth. To you. Tonight isn’t typical. I know Irene gave you a baptism of fire, but she isn’t typical. I don’t want you to think that.”
“What was her father’s problem with you? You weren’t born into poverty. Your father ran his own company. He was a respectable businessman, wasn’t he? Going places. You’ve carried on his work.”
“As far as Irene’s father was concerned, I was the son of a bricklayer and I wasn’t going anywhere near his precious daughter.”
“But…”
“Old money.”
“Sorry?”
“Irene’s family. Old money.”
“Why’s that so different from new money?”
Lips twitching, he cocks a brow my way. “Money has to mature for several generations to acquire respectability.”
“Well, judging by Irene’s jealousy tonight, your money has matured sufficiently in a single lifetime…”
My Master’s cheeks suck hollow, but his eyes crinkle.
His ease fades. “Elizabeth… I have to ask. You do still want to be my wife? To be with me? Am I asking too much of you? The life I’m imposing on you… Is it too much for you?”
My heart slams, hard enough to set my fingertips tingling. “Of course I want it, Master. I'm so proud that I’m your wife. And that you’re my husband…”
He rolls, pulling me to him, stroking me, his hands gliding over me. My shoulders, My hair. He kisses my face, resting his cheek against mine. “I’m sorry, my Love. I’m sorry. But I had to ask.”
The battering under my chest subsides. “Master… I understand you had to ask, but… what I have with you is a world better than what I ever had before you. If Irene… or any of her ilk… thinks I’m some weak little mouse that will keel over under her… her scorn… then, tough. It’s not going to happen. As for… the life… It’s a learning curve, like any other. You’ll just have to give me some leeway while I learn how to handle it.”
His embrace around me tightens. “My Love, you are already handling it.” The embraces eases once more… “I did not choose you, Elizabeth, or fall in love with you, because you are a mouse. Yes, you are a natural submissive. And that jigsaws perfectly with my own…” He chuckles… “… my own inclinations. And it is not the same as saying you are weak. You're not. You are bright and beautiful and intelligent. And you are so sweet.”
He pauses. “That is the one issue where Irene may have a point. You are sweet. And right now, that makes you a deer among the wolves. Which isn’t good enough. But…” He raises a finger. “You’re already earning respect in your own right. Will’s on your side. So’s Wilmore.”
“And the mayor?”
He huffs. “Jack’s alright. A bit starchy, but fundamentally a decent type. He sees past Irene’s behaviour but he’s trapped himself with it.” He heaves air. “It’s a real shame though. Irene could influence a lot of the younger women who might have been friendly with you otherwise.”
“There's Grace. You were right. She's lovely. I could easily become friends with her. I think I already have.”
His hand rambles through my hair, stroking gently. “Grace is a wonderful woman. Will's very lucky with his wife. But Grace is his age and mine. You should have at least one friend your own age. And so far, that’s not happening.”
“Master.”
“Hmmm?”
“I liked the way you handled Irene this evening.”
“She intended to be overhead, Elizabeth. So did I.”
*****
Later, as my Master’s breathing settles to the steady rhythm of sleep, I turn over the words I heard in the bathroom.
He could have taken his pick…
He picked me.
And I, him.