by Anne Mercier
“I’ll be your dessert. Let’s enjoy a quiet meal together.”
“Like we do at home,” she adds.
I nod. “Yes.”
She sighs and takes a seat at the table. “I miss our breakfasts together. Our dinners. Our movies and popcorn in bed.”
“I do too, Fee,” I tell her, bringing over the chicken dish I had prepared for us. We each have a plate covered with a warmer, and I remove hers. She inhales deeply.
“Oh, God. That smells so good I’m drooling. Takeout and sandwiches gets old. And, yeah, Misty may cook, but one good meal a day doesn’t cut it. I’ve had to up my exercise time so I don’t start jiggling,” she tells me as she pinches her ass. What a fine ass it is.
“Fee. You’re beautiful. You will always be beautiful to me.”
“Jiggly or not?”
“Yes. Now, let’s eat so we can get to that dessert.”
“That was so good,” Fee tells me, patting her belly. It really was amazing. I’m going to have to get the name of that chef and talk to Gio. Someone with that much talent should be recognized.
I push the plate to the side and I reach for my wine when she leans up. I raise a brow and she gives me a devilish grin. I’m not sure how it worked out, but Bad Intentions by Nikyee Heaton comes on and Fee’s grin grows.
She puts her first knee on the table, then the next. She doesn’t do anything but sit back on her heels on top of the table. She reaches down and lifts her shirt over her head.
Fuck. She’s going to test my restraint. I crook my finger at her and she smiles. She crawls once more, but barely closing any distance between us before she kicks her shoes off.
“Fee,” I say sternly.
“Cage.”
“Do you know what this means?” I ask, crooking my finger again.
“Yes.”
“Then get your sweet ass over here.”
“What if I don’t want to just yet?” she asks.
“Then when you’re ready to come, what if I don’t want you to just yet? What if I withhold your orgasm, building you up, taking you to the edge, but not letting you fall over? Then doing it again and again.”
“Not letting me come isn’t very nice,” she tells me.
“Not listening to me when I command you to do something isn’t very nice either. You know the rules, my Fee.” And she does. She learned them quickly. I never could have anticipated Fee enjoying being dominated in bed. Never in a thousand years. But she does. And she submits to me, giving me everything she is as I do the same in return. I give her my heart, my soul, my love, and pleasure like she’s never known. When she told me that, it did great things for my pride, I won’t lie. I am a man after all.
She crawls across the table, slowly, seductively, her breasts plumped up in her bra, barely restrained from the sexy piece of lavender lace. My hands are itching to touch her, to take her up, up, up until she explodes and then do it again and again. But she disobeyed so she’ll have to wait for that.
When she’s in front of me, she sits back on her heels, her hands resting on her thighs. There were two things we both agreed not to do that true dominant and submissives do routinely. One is have her look down when she submits to me and the other is to call me Master or Sir. I don’t like that. She’s not subservient to me. She’s my mate. My wife. My equal. Bringing her pleasure brings me equal pleasure.
“Can I touch you?” she asks.
“No, you may not. You defied me,” I tell her.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Yet you did. Now, what are we going to do about that?” I ask.
She doesn’t speak, knowing I didn’t expect her to answer.
“Come here, Fee,” I order again. This time she does so without hesitation. I stand and lift her off the table, standing her in front of me. She doesn’t touch me.
“Good girl. Now, take off my tie for me,” I tell her as I walk over and sit down on the sofa.
She nods once and does as I ask. I have her take off each piece of my clothing—including my shoes—until I’m sitting in front of her, my cock hard and aching to be inside her, yet restrained by my boxers.
“These now,” I tell her quietly.
She licks her lips as she reaches for me and I nearly groan aloud. She’s so fucking beautiful, so sexy. When my boxers are off, I direct her to her knees. She drops without hesitation.
“Can I touch you?” she asks, her eyes focused on my cock. I wrap my hand around it and start stroking it.
“No.”
She whimpers.
“You can watch me stroke the cock that should be buried inside your pussy right now. I’d be fucking you slowly, with deep strokes,” I tell her, doing with my hand that very thing. Precum drips from the head and I use it as lube to add that bit of slipperiness I need. I grunt and she cries out, pressing her thighs together.
“Are you wet for me, Fee?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to touch yourself? Slide your fingers into that hot little pussy and fuck yourself until you come?” I ask.
She moans. “Yes.”
“Then you should have listened,” I tell her and she gasps. “I don’t like to deny you, my Fee. I want to bring you pleasure, to make you mine, to feel you tight and wet around me, squeezing my cock even when you don’t mean to.”
She watches me as I reach down to cup my balls with one hand while I stroke my cock faster.
“Do you like to watch me?”
She nods.
“The words, Fee.”
“Yes, I like to watch you.”
She’s squeezing her thighs even tighter together and I imagine just how wet she is. Enough of this.
I pull her to her feet, then toward me so she’s straddling my lap, and I devour her mouth. I want her with an intensity that never ceases to amaze me. Every time it’s like this. I just can’t get enough of her taste, her touch, her moans, her pleasure.
Her hands reach up to touch my face. I love when she does this. She holds me to her when we kiss. I’m not sure if she does it because she’s afraid I’m going to stop and she doesn’t want that or if she just wants to make me feel cherished. She gives me the latter every second of every day and the first is never going to happen.
“Stand up.”
She does as I ask.
“Take off the rest of your clothes, Fee. I want to see and feel your softness.”
She begins with her pants, unsnapping them, then sliding them down her legs. She steps out of them, moving to the side, and reaches around to unhook her bra. When her breasts fall free, I want to groan—to weep with appreciation of her beauty. But when she shimmies out of her panties, all I can think of is how much I want to taste her.
“Come,” I beckon, then lie back on the sofa, urging her to crawl up my body so she can ride my tongue.
“Holy smokes,” she whispers and I grin. “Not going to start off slow at all are we?”
“We don’t have much time and I want to spend every second of what time we do have loving you properly.”
She shudders out a breath when her thighs straddle my head. I pull her down onto my mouth and lick. I lick the folds of her glistening pussy, pausing to suck on them. When she moans in pleasure, I want to give her more. Always more. My Fee deserves it all.
My tongue dips into her center, her wetness coating my tongue and I swallow it like a starved man.
“Oh, God. Mmm,” she moans, and I suck her clit, flicking my tongue across it, causing her body to jerk and shake. I slip a finger inside her, pushing in and out while I leisurely lick her clit. Slowly but with just the right amount of pressure is how she likes it. I add a second finger and she throws her head back, her hair tickling across my thighs.
When her hips begin to move, I know she’s close. I curl my fingers inside of her, seeking that magical spot that brings her to her knees, and when I find it, she gasps, moans, and presses harder against my tongue seeking her release.
I look up, watching the pleasure ove
rtake her as she comes undone above me, crying out as her orgasm rushes through her. I love the taste and feel of my wife, but nothing gives me greater pride than knowing I can please her to the limits I do.
Her thighs quake against my ears. I reach up behind her, my hands grasping her shoulders, and I sit up.
“Hold on,” I say against her pussy and I stand up. She squeaks but relaxes immediately into me. Her torso supported by my arms, her legs bent over my shoulders, her feet hooked at the ankles behind my head. I stride toward the table, the one we just had lunch on and when I reach it, I clear the table with a swipe of my arm.
Sera gasps as plates and glasses shatter against the floor. “That was so hot,” she tells me and I chuckle.
“This might be a little cold,” I warn, then lay her onto the table so she’s spread out before me.
“Holy smokes, Cage,” she whispers, and I press my mouth against her pussy and start over again.
Holy smokes. My husband has a very talented mouth and tongue, and those hands, those fingers. I moan as he brings me to yet another orgasm. This is number three. The man is relentless in his quest to bring me pleasure—not that I’m complaining.
He looks up at me and I know he’s to his limit. He wants me. He needs me, to be inside me, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather have him.
So easily he lifts me from the table and I hold him close as he carries me toward the bed. I can’t help myself. I press kisses along his jaw, his cheek, and down to his neck. When I bite the spot where his shoulder and neck meet he growls. My husband is seriously fucking hot.
I’m placed gently onto the bed, but I know it’s not going to be sweet lovemaking. Not the first time. No. The first time is going to be rough and frantic because we can never get enough of one another. Never.
“On your knees, Fee,” he orders, and a shiver of excitement runs through me. I love it when I’m right—especially when it comes to my husband fucking me.
I’m barely on all fours when his hands grip my hips tightly and he’s pulling my ass back against him. He grinds his cock against my ass.
“Do you want my cock, Fee?” he asks.
Duh. “Yes, please.”
“I’m not going to be gentle right now, Fee. Listening to you moan as you came on my tongue has me on edge,” he admits.
“Cage, babe, take me however you want me.”
He groans. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me, Fee. Giving me permission to do anything makes me want to push the limits.”
His fingers dip between my legs where I’m still very, very wet and ready for him.
“Still so wet for me,” he growls. Then he’s positioning the head of his cock to my opening, and without warning he thrusts inside. He never goes too deep the first thrust. No, he usually gets there by…three. I moan as he fills me completely.
He’s going slow, stretching me inside so thoroughly it’s maddening. I push back against him and moan when he thrusts deeper.
“You want me to fuck you hard?”
“Yes, yes…” I whisper when his grip on my hips becomes bruising and he’s pumping into me so hard I have to lower to my elbows or I’d fall over.
“No, Fee,” he growls. Then he reaches up and grabs my hair, wrapping it in his fist, giving it a tug, forcing me to raise up. That bite of pain gives me a thrill that seems sadistic. I can’t even be ashamed of my fetishes. I won’t. Cage and I are the same and his is the only opinion that matters to me.
“Pay attention,” he orders then slaps my ass, again, and again before running a soothing hand over what’s sure to be a cherry red handprint.
I let out a moan when he pulls my hair and spanks me again.
“That’s better. Feel it. Feel all of it. Shut your mind down and feel with me.”
“Cage,” I whisper. With each pump of his hips, he drives his cock in and out, bringing me, and him, the pleasure we can only find in one another. As he takes us both higher, I get wetter and as I do, he seems to get bigger in my pussy. Is that possible? All I know is he’s filling me, touching that spot inside me that only he can find.
“Yes, Fee,” he says harshly when I moan and start pushing back against him. The tingling begins to spread and my breath catches when he spanks my ass again, bringing me closer and closer to release.
“Come for me, Fee,” Cage tells me softly, the tone contradicting the desperation in his movements. “Only for me.”
“Only ever you,” I whisper.
He groans, then tugs my hair, pulling my torso upright, my back against his front. His hand slides down between my thighs, zeroing in on my clit.
“Oh yes,” I pant when his fingertip brushes against my swollen nub. With minimal effort, just a few circles, I come undone in his arms.
My breasts heavy with arousal, my belly tightening in anticipation, and then it hits me. Pleasure so raw and uncontrolled it steals my breath. Cage grunts and then he’s coming inside of me. He gently bites the side of my neck to stifle his shout but his grunts of pleasure are right against my ear, which takes me higher.
As we drift down, I try to catch my breath. Cage licks against my neck.
“You’re so incredible, Fee,” he whispers against my ear. Then he’s guiding me down so I lay on my back and we join together again. Slowly this time, as he rests on his elbows, his fingers entwined with mine, his gaze fixed on mine. I feel his love so deeply and every day I wonder how I ever got so lucky.
My heart swells as one side of his mouth tips up. I smile back softly. He’s touching me so deeply with his movements, his attention, his love, that it begins to overwhelm me. I can’t stop the tears from filling my eyes as he makes love to me. This is true love. The kind that lasts forever and I found it with this wonderful man who worships me.
“I love you, Cage,” I whisper as the first tear spills down my cheek.
“And I you.” He lifts a hand to wipe the tears spilling from my eyes. “Always and forever.”
“Only ever you,” I reply, and I surrender to the pleasure we bring each other.
I’M FINALLY “JUICED up” as I call it when I have to get an IV, and I walk onto the bus, Lucy mothering and worrying the whole way.
“Are you sure you shouldn’t have stayed there?” she asks.
I turn to her and hug her. “I’m sure. It’ll be all right.”
“How?” she asks as tears fill her eyes.
I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know, but I’ve made it this long and it doesn’t feel like it’s time yet for me to go.”
She nods as Jesse pulls her into his side.
“Please don’t be upset, Lucy. You have to stay stress-free for the babies,” I plead.
“I don’t know how you can be so calm about this,” she says.
I want to say that I’m used to it, but that’d set her off for sure and I don’t want her in a full-blown cry this close to show time. So I don’t say anything, just take a seat.
“How you doing, Nicole?” Xander asks. “You need anything?”
I turn to him and look him over—really look him over. He’s a handsome devil with that dark hair and the smile that lights up the room. I don’t know his story but I’m betting it’s a doozy.
“I’m okay.” I rub against the bandage covering the IV site. “These bandages always make me itch but I have to leave them on for a while longer. I hate this.”
He nods. “Well, let me distract you with my superior knowledge.”
I let out a laugh. “Superior knowledge?” I ask and he nods. “About what?”
“I was reading Sera’s Cosmo earlier—”
Kennedy and Ethan both let out groans.
“This should be good,” Meggie says with a grin.
He gives Kennedy and Ethan glares of annoyance then turns back to me.
“As I was saying. I was reading Sera’s Cosmo earlier and there was an article on how to make your cum taste better for your partner during oral sex.”
“Shut up,” I say with a laugh.
&nbs
p; His eyes go wide and he turns on the sofa. “I’m serious. It’s crazy. There are certain foods, if you eat them often enough, it makes your stuff sweeter.”
I laugh again. “Like what kinds of foods?”
“Pineapple, apples, grapes, watermelon, things like that.”
“So sweet fruits?”
He nods. “Yep.” He turns to look at Jesse and Lucy. “I bet you’re enjoying the benefits of those peaches, huh?”
Jesse grins and Lucy blushes.
“That’s what I thought. Interesting that a pregnancy craving can make your juices taste better,” Xan says aloud to no one in particular.
Jesse glares. “I’d prefer if you’d stop discussing my wife’s ‘juices’.”
Xan snickers. “Hell no. Lucy’s the perfect example. But seeing as you eat a lot of fruit and stuff, I bet yours is sweet too,” he says to me.
Ben walks over, having just stepped onto the bus and he gives Xan a look that could kill.
“Dude, you need to find out if that shit is true,” Xander tells Ben.
“Fucker, if I do, do you think I’d even tell you if it’s true or not?” Ben asks, taking a seat next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in to his side.
“What the fuck, man?” Xan shouts.
“You each owe the swear jar,” I cut in.
“What?” Xander asks.
“F word. Both of you. Pay up,” I tell him with a laugh.
“Well worth it,” Ben mutters, putting his money in the jar.
“You notice Jesse’s use of the F word has gotten less and less—unless he’s on stage,” Kennedy notes.
“I noticed,” Lucy preens. “I’m so proud of my baby.”
Jesse rolls his eyes. “When I get pissed, I use it. I can’t help it.”
“And when you’re banging Lucy,” Xander says.
Jesse glares. “Dude.”
Xan shrugs. “Whatever. It’s true. We all can hear you.”
Jesse tips his head back and looks up. “Christ.”
“Who gives a shit?” Trace asks.
“Says the man who makes Meggie scream,” Xander teases.
“Damn right,” Trace replies.