Chapter Ninety-One
… a prickling that spreads over my belly, rides up my spine into my hair, and lances through to my throbbing core.
My flesh shivers and flows. Arousal boils the blood over my breasts and neck. And a frigid kiss trickles over my breast bone then down. One rib. Two. Another… Then another.
Ice…
It’s ice…
“I already told you, Elizabeth. Breathe.”
Gulping, I suck in air, then lie still save for my panting.
Fingers brush to my lips, then insert, pushing between my teeth, then widening my jaws. “If you forget to breathe again, I’ll wedge your mouth open with a dental gag.”
I can’t form the words to reply. Only nod my head in understanding.
Once more, the wet chill bites and caresses, Sliding over the soft round of my other breast, it continues to the harder curve of my ribs. I’m trembling. My hips shudder with a life of their own, all out of my control.
“Elizabeth, you have no idea how beautiful you look like that.” Any reply seems superfluous. “The sight of a woman in sexual torment is one of life’s miracles.”
“Miracle, Master?” Between breaths, I lever out the words. “That kind of implies it happens for no good reason. I’d say you’re pretty much the cause of it.”
A low chuckle. The sensation changes flavour, the harsh kiss of the ice softening to the slide of iced fingers. They slip over my belly, circle my navel and return to my breasts, painting frozen orbits around the nipples.
The ice withdraws, then…
My breath dances and quakes as my Master makes me wait, holding me in suspense for his pleasure…
Then, his touch on my leg. Between my legs…
The smooth glide of a palm over my calves… and the tickle of his shirt… then his hair… as it grazes over the fine skin of my inner thighs.
The glacial chill of droplets…
The frozen kiss of fingertips drawing over the delicate area inside my ankles…
… the tender spot behind a knee…
My cunt throbs, wells, and I cry out.
The iced contour trails along my thigh…
The outer thigh…
… winding in toward the delicate inner thigh…
Then draws over my mound, a trickle of meltwater seeping down to skitter by my throbbing clit, seeping between my lips to meld and flow with the heated honey streaming from my slit.
“You smell wonderful, Elizabeth. You smell of sex and your arousal.”
And for an instant, ice flashes between my legs, streaking like a meteor in the night through my folds, from pulsing clit to my swollen, splayed cunt, and convulsing, I scream.
In a searing moment, frozen fire drops over my entrance… Lips fasten, frozen cold, a glacial tongue penetrating me.
Arctic water flows, joining streams with the volcanic flow of my own pumping juices… Tongue and lips suck and wind and coil, probing inside me, swiping over blood-engorged flesh and, beyond self-control, I thrash and wail…
All goes still…
A phut! of sound…
And something tinkles down onto stone flags.
Thank God…
The ice returns, gliding through the seam of my engorged folds, drawing winter in its wake. Frigid lips and teeth draw and suck and nip at skin and muscle.
The tongue lashes over my bud, and would be numbing except that I am volcanically, scaldingly, blisteringly, aroused. Blood and fevered flesh flame against the ice. Scalding juices lave the glaciers, dissolving them into the boil of my sweltering cunt.
The pump of my juices morphs to the pump of my flesh. Inside, muscle ripples and flows, twitches and jumps…
My breath skitters and my lungs work overtime, drawing in air already warm from the fire…
Through emerald mist, I hear my Master, his breathing laboured, air snatched at intervals as his mouth, his tongue, his lips, his teeth, work my arousal, my building climax.
And my breathing matches his…
The cuffs grab at my wrists. My soles press at the stirrups. I heave and buck and…
… and…
… release.
The fierce vortex at my core spins, blooming brilliant and blinding. Pleasure rolls through my body, possessing me. Taking me. Consuming me.
The Rush crashes over me, a maelstrom of fire and ice.
And somewhere beyond the storm, I hear a hiss. “Christ!”
The rustle of fabric…
The rasp of a zipper…
… and without warning, my Master plunges into me, fathoming me in a single smooth movement, thrusting hard and fast and deep.
Abruptly, I find the blindfold snatched away and his mouth drops over mine. Locked in the grip of orgasm, still, open-mouthed, I meet him, welcoming the scrape of his chin on mine, tasting myself on him, embracing the hammering of his flesh inside my own. The throbbing of my flesh around his.
He breaks the kiss. Heaves. Grunts. Then…
“Fuck… Elizabeth…”
He falls forward, his face pressed to my chest, and I’m taking his weight as, juddering, his hips grind into mine. I’m still pulsing. Clenching. Clutching. In the grip of my climax, I take my Master as he takes me.
Shuddering and shivering and rocking, together we ride the wave…
The breathless snatch of our lungs falls from gasping, to panting, to the steady, measured draw for air. The battering behind my chest and his eases to a steady Thump-Thump.
Limp, I simply lie there, utterly passive. And for long moments, sated, we drift…
After a minute, he lifts himself away and withdrawing, he sits on the edge of the bed, his gaze sliding from mine.
“Master? Is something wrong?”
His face is flushed. Still, he doesn’t look at me. “My apologies, my Love…” He’s speaking to the floor… “… That is possibly the shortest time in which I’ve lost control since I was about fifteen.”
I laugh, the chains still at my wrists, tinkling with my movement. “No apologies necessary. You’d already gotten me wayyy… past the point of no return.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.” He huffs, sounding more himself. “Please don’t think, Elizabeth, that will be a regular occurrence.”
“I’m sure it won’t. Why don’t you release me, and we can finish that bottle.”
*****
In warm robes now, in the glow of the fire, we sit together. And, sipping wine, we talk.
“It’s not been so long since you married me,” says my Master. “A lot’s happened since then.”
“I didn’t know what to expect,” I admit. “Truly, I’d not thought, at all, about what to expect. What it meant to be your wife. The Billionaire’s Bride.”
He throws an arm around my shoulder. Squeezes. “I did throw you in at the deep end, didn’t I?”
What do I say to that? There’s no real answer.
“I suppose so.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “You’ve achieved a lot since then, my Love. You came into this marriage very unsure of yourself. But in a short time, you’ve carved out a role for yourself. You’ve made friends. Dealt with difficulties…” He taps a fingertip to my chest. “You’ve earned respect in your own right. Not just as my wife.”
“I’d like to think so, Master. But I’m so proud to be your wife.”
His smile is slow and gradual and warm. “And I, to be your husband. But Elizabeth, remember, you are my wife, of course. But you are not just my wife. You are yourself. And you have remained yourself. That too is something to celebrate.”
Inside, I glow. “Not the only thing though.”
“What else then?”
“Us,” I say. “You. Me. Singly and together. Husband and wife…” I lace fingers into his… “Master and submissive. But most of all, partners.”
He rolls wine around his mouth, seeming also to roll my words around his mind. “Yes, my Love,” he says, nodding slowly. “Partners. In every way in which one person can be partner to another.”
Leaning into each other, we kiss. My lips to his lips. His hand to my cheek, My hand to his shoulder. The kiss lingers…
There’s no hurry.
Then, raising glasses, we clink and toast. “Partners.”
“Partners.”
This Concludes ‘Bought By The Billionaire’
However, Beth and Richard reappear in
‘Mastering Charlotte’
and
‘Buying Charlotte’