The Dom's Bride

by Penelope Bloom

  He kisses my pussy in a slow, deliberate way, letting his lips linger before he tilts his head up and brushes his lower lip along my folds, tongue flicking out against my clit at the last moment. Everything inside me explodes at the sensation. His lips. His tongue. Even the stubble of his face brushing the inside of my thighs is euphoric. My Dom is eating me out, and from the sounds he’s making as he works, he’s enjoying this as much as I am.

  The idea that he could enjoy licking and kissing me there turns me on as much as the physical sensations themselves. I can feel his enjoyment from the way his hands squeeze my calves and roam my legs hungrily and the gradual but relentless increase of his pace and intensity. It’s not long before he’s moving with an almost frantic, out of control speed that has me feeling like I’m at the center of a storm, where every moment is filled with potential energy and a raging sort of reckless ferocity.

  Moans spill out of my mouth on their own. I couldn’t stop them any more than I could stop my rapid heartbeat or my gasping breaths. The white mist, the room, the cross-like structure I’m strapped to, even the people in the crowd behind me all become insignificant dust next to the impending orgasm that threatens to rip through me and leave nothing left in its wake. My entire body shakes, pussy clenching around his talented tongue and body flexed tight as his hands roam me.

  “I’m going to cum,” I whisper.

  He says nothing, but the vibration of his satisfied groan of pleasure rumbles through me from my core to my stomach, pushing me over that final precipice, driving my climax to life and making me shake against my restraints, ass and pussy pressed hard into Tristan’s face. He doesn’t stop though, mouth still working to summon every ounce of pleasure from my climax that’s possible until I’m left shaking from the aftershocks, body feeling spent and lifeless.

  The sound of Tristan’s hands clapping together echoes through the room, shocking me enough to make me jump.

  “Out,” he calls in a loud, commanding voice.

  To my surprise, I hear the sound of many bodies shuffling and feet moving. It sounds like everyone in the room is actually obeying him. Sure enough, within a minute or two, I can’t hear even the faintest hint of another person in the room. Not a cough or a shift of fabric as someone moves in their seat. “They’re gone?” I ask.

  “Just you and me now, treasure.”

  “They just listen to you like that?”

  “It’s the dom’s choice. Everyone here knows that. A dom can choose to share his submissive as long as he likes, and for as little as he likes. I allowed them a taste, but the rest is all for me and me alone. You are all mine.”

  A wave of warmth spreads through me at the sound of his voice. I’m his. I want that to be true. It hits me with a force like a punch to the stomach. I want him. I want everything he has to offer. I…

  “I love you,” I whisper. My voice comes out so quietly I think he must not have even heard me, but he freezes where he stands.

  “What did you say?” he asks. He leans into my view, eyes intent and mouth open as he waits. “Tell me what you just said.”

  “I said... I love you,” I say, shaking my head. It sounds so crazy to say aloud I can barely believe it myself. “I love you,” I repeat. “I don’t know why or how or—”

  He silences me with a long, tender kiss. “I love you too. I didn’t admit it to myself at first, maybe not until now even, but I felt it the moment I saw you at the auction.” His hands start to move across my bare skin while he talks, almost as if he’s massaging the truth of his words into my skin where it will linger and blossom. “I knew I had to have you. I knew it wouldn’t be easy to let you go but I risked it anyway. Then you just stuck in my head,” he says with a soft laugh. “You got a hold of me and wouldn’t let go. No matter how many times I tried to tell myself I was bad for you or that you were bad for me, it just wouldn’t stick. All I ever seemed to know was that I needed to see you again. To touch you again.” He brushes a loose strand of hair away from my eyes and behind my ear. “I fucking love you, Stephanie, and I’m done pretending this thing between us isn’t real. It’s real. Every bit of it.”

  I nod my head. “It is.”

  “I don’t want to fuck you this time,” he says, reaching to unstrap my hands and ankles.

  A stab of hurt pierces through me. “What?” I ask shakily.

  “I want to make love to you. The BDSM stuff… It’s fine. It’s good, even. But I’ve used it as a bandage to fix something for too long. I want to be with you without any of the pain of the dominance. Just me and you doing what feels good. No weird shit to mask old wounds this time.”

  I nod my head, putting my hands to the sides of his neck and standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Okay,” I say.

  He strips off his jacket, tie, and undershirt. He kicks off his shoes and the rest of his clothes shortly after, putting a hand to my chest and walking me backwards until I bump against the wall at the edge of the stage. His eyes bore into me with more intensity than they ever have before, like he’s looking straight through to my core and seeing me for me. I see him, too. I see the kind man beneath all the strength and power, the man who has been running from his past but is tired of running.

  When we kiss, it’s like we’re kissing for the first time. His lips crash into mine with a buzz of heat and cold all wrapped together, hands tangling in my hair as we stumble and collapse to the ground together. He pins me to the ground in a puff of white mist that rises up, swirls, and then settles in around us, each tendril of white gradually blending where he stops and I begin.

  He takes his time. Tristan’s mouth moves from mine to my jawline and the place just beneath my ear, making me giggle and bite my lip when he nips at my earlobe with a deep chuckle. His strong hands move up me, driving his heat beneath my skin and banishing the chill of the mist and the cold floor against my back. His hips and hard cock move with a slow, driving purpose against me, but he still hasn’t slipped himself inside, as if he knows the anticipation of his penetration is going to make the moment that much sweeter and he has all the patience in the world to let it build.

  He kisses my nipples slowly and tenderly, taking the swollen nub of my nipple into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue and lips. His mouth trails down from my breasts to my navel and even the inside of my thighs until I think he’s going to go down on me again, which isn’t an unpleasant thought. But it seems his patience does have a limit, because when his lips brush the swollen flesh of my mound it’s almost as if he remembers how badly he wants inside me and he can’t hold himself back any longer.

  He plants his hands on either side of my head, lifting himself up until I feel the hot head of his cock between my legs. I’m about to reach down and help him find his way inside me when he skillfully moves his hips and lines his cock up perfectly with my entrance, pressing himself into me in just the right way to ease himself inside.

  I dig my nails into his back, breathing out my pleasure while my body responds by arching up to meet him, ass pressing off the ground and driving his cock even deeper, filling me in a way I desperately crave.

  I’ve had him inside me twice before and thought those were the most wild, incredible moments of my life. But this is different. Where before I felt almost like I was on a ride meant for thrills and enjoyment, now I can feel the passion in every movement of his body. He’s not fucking me like we’re animals in heat. He’s making love to me. His eyes are locked onto mine as he glides in and out of me, stretching my walls and plunging so deeply into me that it takes my breath away, but that’s not even the best part of what I’m feeling right now.

  I don’t know how else to describe it, except to call it love. I can feel the love in the way he moves and looks at me and in the way he lets his head dip to kiss me impulsively, lips held against mine while his body still works in a smooth rhythm.

  I spear my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to me because I crave his closeness, his warmth, his touch. I can’t get enough. All th
e emotions wrap together with the physical sensation of the sex to form an intoxicating cocktail I can’t imagine ever wanting to put down. When he tied me up and made me his submissive, I felt how pleasure and pain could blend together to form something entirely new. Now I see how pleasure and love can do exactly the same thing.

  I lose track of time. All I know is the movement of our bodies, the smooth rhythm of slick skin rocking against slick skin and the taste of our mingling breath. I wrap my legs tightly around him, urging him deeper into me. Harder. The rasp of his voice is in my ear when he tells me he’s going to cum. I feel him start to pull himself out but I lock my legs around him, heels digging into the small of his back.

  “Fuck, I’m going to fill you up,” he groans.

  “I want it,” I whisper. “I want all of it. Cum inside me, Tristan. Please.”

  His entire body tenses and for the first time in my life I feel the heat of a man’s cum deep inside me. It’s subtle, but with every pulse of his cock, I feel more of that spreading warmth and know even now his seed is making its way to my innermost core.

  I wrap myself around him, hardly even noticing how my body shakes with an orgasm of my own. Every moment since he laid me down in this mist has felt like a continual, never-ending climax.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “All I get is a thank you?” he asks. I can’t see his face but I can hear the smile on his lips. “I was hoping for a tip.”

  I slap his shoulder. “Don’t ruin the moment with your bad jokes.”

  “Sorry,” he says, sinking back down to cover me with his big body. “I thought that one would get a laugh.”

  I gently lift his face up with my palms so I can look into his eyes. “Doesn’t the sex master know I’m not looking to laugh after something like that? You’re supposed to say something so sweet I’ll never forget it, not crack a joke.”

  He smirks. “I apologize. Consider it a testament to how much I enjoyed you that I made such a horrible mistake.”

  I pull him back down so I can kiss him. “Forgiven.”

  16

  Tristan

  Alice walks into the coffee shop wearing some kind of ridiculous outfit that screams for attention. I agreed to meet her here for one reason and one reason only: to get her to fuck off. I can hardly believe the woman is still hung up over a meaningless encounter that happened years ago. When I look at her now, all I can do is compare her to Stephanie and see how unbelievably far she falls short.

  She’s like a plastic version of what women think they should look like, all loud lines, bright colors, and no real beauty. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but seeing her again makes me appreciate Stephanie even more. I’m reminded how not every woman can be effortlessly sexy like Stephanie can. With Stephanie, she doesn’t try to turn me on. She just does. It’s the combination of her innocence and the fiery spirit just beneath the surface that makes her so irresistible. Women like Alice sway their hips and walk with their chests puffed out because they want the attention.

  When she sits down across from me and makes a face she probably spent hours practicing in the mirror, I can’t help but laugh. My reaction makes her frown.

  “Did you ask me to come here just so you could laugh at me?” she asks.

  “No,” I say. “I asked you to come here because I know you’ve been following me. Or more likely you paid some hack to do it for you. But I want it to stop.”

  She doesn’t bother to deny it. All she does is lean back, cross her arms, and then raise her eyebrows like she’s waiting for my offer.

  “So tell me what the fuck you want,” I growl. “Money? You can have it if that’s what you want.”

  “You know what I want. I want you, Tristan.”

  “Fuck you,” I growl. “How many years has it even been? I barely knew you a few hours and you still show up like this to try to insert yourself into my life? I’ve never so much as agreed to talk to you until now. Why are you still bothering?”

  “You walked away from me. Nobody walks away from me,” she says.

  I throw my hands up at the futility of the conversation I’m having with her. “Clearly they do.”

  “No. You were the only one. You are the only one who ever turned me down.”

  “Bad news, then, because if you thought stalking me and feeding some weak information to child services was going to break Stephanie and I up, you’re wrong.”

  “Oh what is it. True love?” she asks with a cruel curl of her lips. “After a few weeks?”

  “What it is,” I say flatly, “is none of your goddamn business. But the reason I agreed to meet you was to get you to fuck off, so I’ll make it your business. Yes. It’s love. I love her.”

  She puffs out an annoyed breath. “Right. Sure you do. Tristan Rivers suddenly falls in love now, does he?”

  “When I meet the right woman, apparently I do. I think we’re done here,” I say, getting up to leave. For once in her life, Alice doesn’t seem to know what to say. She watches after me as I leave, mouth open and eyes narrowed with rage.

  As I push my way outside, I’m not sure if I really stopped her from trying to fuck with us in the future, but I know it felt good to see that look on her face either way. In all honesty, I doubt there’s much she can really do at this point to cause trouble for us anyway. Stephanie told me that the case with Cole was almost completely wrapped up and that it’d just come down to a formal court hearing where my dad would have one last chance to hire a lawyer and file an appeal.

  Back home, I find Cole and Stephanie sitting down at the table for lunch together.

  “How’d it go?” she asks me once I set my things down on the counter and join them. They’re having fish sticks with macaroni and cheese.

  I grab a plate and scoop myself some macaroni and cheese to satisfy my rumbling stomach. I guess Cole’s love of the stuff is hereditary. “Good,” I say. “I mean, as good as a meeting with the ice witch could go, I guess.”

  “Ice witch?” asks Cole.

  “Yeah,” I say, leaning forward. “She had pointy horns and a stick so far up her—”

  “Tristan,” warns Stephanie with a barely concealed grin.

  “So far up her bike spokes that she had to get up and walk,” I say. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Stephanie.”

  She rolls her eyes at me with an amused look on her face. “Did she agree to leave us alone?”

  “No,” I admit. “Not really. But I think I annoyed her.”

  “So it was a moral victory?” asks Stephanie.

  “Definitely.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!” screams Cole so suddenly I nearly jump with surprise.

  Stephanie laughs behind her hand. “He has been doing that all day. He made me laugh the first time and now he’s just showing off.”

  I grin. “Right. I like it, Cole. That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

  Cole flashes me a big, toothy smile. “Nice,” he says.

  “Have you been training him?” I ask Stephanie.

  “I wish I could take credit,” she says. “But he just came this way.”

  The rest of our afternoon makes me feel like I’m part of a family. We watch a movie together, which Cole only lasts through a few minutes of before he dozes off and sleeps curled up against Stephanie’s side. After he wakes up, we take him to a playground and then for ice cream, which I admittedly only really suggested because I wanted some damn ice cream for myself. Later that night, we continue trying to teach Cole how to actually play Go Fish, but we end up laughing more at his unique take on the game than we actually play.

  Once Cole goes to bed, we sleep in the same room for the first time since Stephanie moved in, though by the time I’m done with her, I definitely spent more time between her legs than I did getting sleep, but I don’t feel an ounce of regret. Not about any of it. Bringing Stephanie back from the auction. Taking Cole from my dad. Letting myself fall for her. Most of it felt like a mistake in the moment, but if they we
re mistakes, they were the best fucking mistakes I’ll ever make.

  17

  Stephanie

  The courtroom looks much less impressive than the ones they show on movies. It looks more like a meeting room in a middle school than an imposing place of legal power. Tristan, Cole, and myself all wear our nicest clothes while we stand with the attorney Tristan has been paying to work on all the official paperwork and behind-the-scenes things necessary to move Cole’s case forward quickly and keep him in our custody as long as possible.

  “He has five more minutes,” says the judge, who is leaning on his elbows while he taps away at a computer on his desk.

  He’s talking about Cole’s father, who had one last chance to hire an attorney and file an appeal today. If he doesn’t show up, Cole is ours once and for all. Tristan’s lawyer assured me that even if Cole’s father does appeal, it will really only buy him time. The final step of his appeal process would be a very thorough look into his life, which Tristan is sure would turn up drugs in his system and in his home.

  When the judge checks his watch five minutes later and nods his head to one of the members of the court, relief surges through me.

  “That’s it?” I ask our attorney.

  He nods. “Just a few formalities, and then you will be the legal guardians of Cole. Congratulations.”

  I squeeze Tristan and Cole’s hands as we wait for the judge to read off some scripted lines and pass the final ruling. When we leave the courthouse and get into Tristan’s car, we do it as an official family. I’m surprised to see Cole’s eyes are watering when we get in the car.