Chapter 67 Come, Claire.
Claire
I jolted against the cuffs, heat flooding every inch of me. I didn’t want any more teasing, I needed him inside me right now. I’d been aching for too long.
“Please, stop this torment,” I begged, voice cracking.
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even pause. He just kept sucking on my breast like he’d been starving for it as long as I had.
When he finally released the nipple, he dropped to his knees in front of me. I bent my head to look at him—his eyes locked on mine, dark and focused. Slowly, he gripped my waist, gaze dropping to my slick folds, waiting, glistening, ready for him.
“We’re just getting started, Mrs. Claire,” he murmured. “Trust me—I want to fuck you just as badly as you want me to. But first…”
He spread me open with his fingers.
“…I want to savor you.”
I bit down hard on my lip, letting his promise sink in. That’s when I noticed the dildo lying on the floor beside him. He leaned in closer, breath fanning over my sensitive skin first, then his mouth collided with me.
No slow licks. No gentle buildup.
He went straight for it, sucking my clit deep into his mouth with ruthless precision. A breathy moan ripped from my throat as he worked me like it was his sole purpose in life.
“Right there, Liam—yes, just like that,” I gasped, hips jerking forward, chasing more friction against his face.
After he’d had his fill of sucking, he flattened his tongue and dragged it up and down in long, slow strokes.
“I can’t take it anymore,” I breathed, head thrashing side to side, chest heaving, knees trembling, limbs going numb.
That’s when I felt something blunt and firm press against my entrance. I stopped whining long enough to look down.
The dildo was no longer on the floor, it was at my opening now. I swallowed.
“Why do you want to use that instead?” I asked quietly.
His cock was more than capable of leaving me wrecked. I wanted him, not plastic.
He kissed my clit one last time, then focused on the toy, rubbing the tip along my folds.
“I want to see it properly,” he said, looking up at me with a slow, wicked smile. “How wide you open when I slide this inside you. I want to watch it disappear into your wet pussy, Mrs. Claire, over and over. You have no idea how long I’ve fantasized about this.”
It was a strange kink, but nothing about him should surprise me anymore. The man who cuffed me to poles before fucking me wasn’t exactly normal.
“But I’d rather have yours,” I blurted.
His response was immediate—and shocking.
He drove the dildo into me in one smooth thrust.
“Ah—” I gasped, the sudden stretch stinging for a second despite how wet I was.
“You talk too much, Mrs. Claire,” he said, voice low, before his mouth returned to my folds, soothing and licking as he began working the toy in and out.
At first it stung, but as he kept licking and sucking while sliding the dildo deeper, then pulling it back only to plunge it in again, the sting melted into pure, building pleasure.
I started to like it—really like it.
He pulled his mouth away and watched intently as he fucked me with the toy, slow at first, then faster. My moans changed, deeper, needier—as the sensation coiled tighter inside me, almost like the real thing.
“Do you like it?” he rasped. “I had it made especially for you.”
His hand moved quicker, the dildo hitting that perfect spot over and over.
“You like that?” His voice was suddenly very husky.
I couldn’t answer, couldn’t find words, only moans and broken gasps.
He hissed.
“Now you’re making me jealous of a fucking piece of plastic.”
His mouth found me again while he kept thrusting the toy, the wet, squelching sounds mixing with his licking and my cries, filling the entire room.
I was right on the edge, the pressure building so intensely I couldn’t hold it.
“Liam, I swear—I can’t hold it much longer,” I pleaded, tears pricking my eyes, desperate for permission.
“Come, Claire,” he finally growled.
That was all it took.
He sped up, driving the dildo harder, and I shattered, jerking violently against the cuffs as wave after wave of release crashed through me, days of pent-up need exploding at once.
But even as my body trembled through the aftershocks… I still wasn’t satisfied.
I wanted what only he could give me.
His cock.
His heat.
Him.
Ian
Pacing back and forth won’t fix anything. I need a plan, a real one, something sharp and unbreakable.
I’m furious. So furious I could wrap my hands around Claire’s throat and squeeze. But at the same time, though I hate admitting it, I’m terrified.
Claire made me who I am today. Yes, I worked my ass off for it, but she gave me the ladder. She can yank it away in a heartbeat and drop me right back where she found me: a normal life, a normal job that barely pays the bills, scraping by like everyone else.
No. Never again.
I’ll never go back to that. I’ve outgrown scraps. That life died the day I met her.
I remember the first time I saw her—young Claire, glowing, vibrant, practically radiating money because her father was a billionaire.
I fell hard. Instant. Who wouldn’t? And she fell back. We built something, love, family, stability. I thought that was it. Me, her, the kids, endless security.
But the years dragged on, and I started feeling… small. Like I wasn’t man enough for her.
Our marriage turned dull. Boring as hell.
A wife who didn’t dress to turn me on. Who wore oversized nightgowns to bed like she was hiding. Who never tried to look good for me anymore. And the sex—God, the sex was mechanical, predictable, lifeless.
I got tired. I looked outside. And outside, I discovered what I’d been missing.
She should have stayed the perfect little wife she thought she was. She should have minded her own business instead of digging up my affair.
If she had just kept quiet, none of this would have happened.
I wouldn’t have been thrown out of my own house by her hired muscle.
My kids wouldn’t have looked at me like I was trash.
I wouldn’t be cut off from the money, the money that’s kept me alive in this world.
So yes—all of this is Claire’s fault.
I need to move fast. I’ve saved some money, but it won’t sustain the life I’m used to now. Not even close.
Think, Ian. What can you do?
Play the changed man—beg for her forgiveness, crawl back, pretend I still love her?
Or… since we’re still legally married, have her taken care of. Everything she owns becomes mine.
I must be losing my mind to even consider it. But who can blame me? My head is spinning, thoughts crashing into each other. I’m fidgeting, sweating, barely holding it together.
Then my phone rang.
I snatched it from my pocket. When I saw the name, my breath caught. A small, bitter smile twisted my lips.
The nerve.
She can call me whenever she wants, but she blocked me so I couldn’t reach her? That bitch.
I pressed the phone to my ear, anger boiling over as her voice came through—shaky, hesitant.
“Hello…”
Hearing her made my face twist in disgust.
“The gods must be smiling on me today,” I said, voice dripping venom. “I never thought you’d call, Pattie.”