“Are you finished telling me, ‘no’? Finished trying to control what is not yours to control?” His mouth found my ear, whispering, “Are you ready to fully submit your body to me, your will to me, baby?”
“Yes, Jake, yes!” I cried out.
“Good girl.” Kissing my cheek lightly, he moved away from my face.
“Relax,” he repeated his original command.
As best I could, I spread my knees, the three stripes across my bottom still burning hot and stinging, a reminder of my required submission. Taking deep breaths, I tried to relax the muscles of my poor little rosebud willing the tight hole to ease. Jake’s fingers deftly untied the silks around my wrists and hands. I brought my hands beneath my face, leaving my ankles spread far from one another.
Jake took an item out from under the sheet. A tube of lube. He squirted a generous amount—on not one fingertip, but two. I held my tongue, gulping back my protest. It had felt so full, so tight with just one of his fingers inside me—how on Earth was he going to get two in there?
He brought his fingers to my bottom, hovering over his target. “Get on your knees, grab your cheeks and spread them as far as you can for me.”
Seriously? It was bad enough that Jake was entering this off-limits area, and that it was making my pussy pulse harder than it ever had, but to have to partake in the deed? Offering him easier access to my taboo spot. Shuddering at the memory of the bite of the last stroke of his belt, I raised up on my knees, bottom once again waving in the air and reached behind me. My fingertips grabbed the sore flesh of my bottom. I spread my cheeks apart, feeling the stretching of my bottom hole.
From where I lay, I could only see Jake from the waist down. I had no idea what was happening behind me.
“Oh!” I exclaimed as the cold slippery lube touched my hole. One finger slipped inside me, stretching and filling me as I moaned with shame and pleasure. Then, a second finger joined the first, causing me to gasp with its intense burning.
The feeling of his two fingers inside me was different than anything I had experienced. There was a pinching pain, a stretching uncomfortableness, a fullness and a slow, spreading pleasure. Another, stronger wave of submission washed over me as he slowly pumped his fingers within me.
“Oh,” I moaned, too taken by his possession of me to say anything intelligible. Another pump, then his fingers left me, my pussy and bottom now achingly empty. “Stay relaxed, baby.” I did as he said and was rewarded by a cool gel touching my anus. Something harder than his fingertip pressed against my lubed muscles. I took a deep breath, trying to relax. The item now pressed its way into my orifice, slowly gaining purchase. “Please,” I begged, not knowing if I was begging for him to take it out or push it in further. I wanted to ask what it was that had my bottom plugged tight, but Jake had shown his displeasure at my questioning. It had to be just that—a butt plug—something I had once overheard Jessica and Carrie whispering over Carrie’s kitchen table about, their faces blushing and their words trailing off when I had entered the room.
One final thrust, and the thing filled me completely. I lost my breath for a moment, squirming as my hips rotated in the air. Jake confirmed my suspicions. “It’s a plug for your pretty little bottom. You should see how beautiful you look, on your knees, your ass plugged for me.”
Five minutes ago, I hadn’t even seen a butt plug in person. Now, I was on my hands and knees on the bed with one filling my bottom in the most unusually erotic way.
I was panting for him. He left the room, the sound of water in the sink. Then he returned, applying more lube to his fingers.
His fingers found my pussy and plunged within again. The feeling of his fingers filling my pussy while the plug filled my bottom threw me over the edge. I began to moan in guttural animal noises, the sound unfamiliar to my ears. My hips bucking back and forth, my mound searching for his palm to rub my clit against.
He slapped my bottom. “What am I always telling you, little girl? What do you need to learn?”
“Patience,” I breathed, sure I had the answer correct. I forced my hips to still, wanting to fuck his hand like an animal.
“That’s right.” He withdrew his fingers from me and released my ankles. I was near tears from wanting him so badly.
“Turn over,” he whispered.
I quickly obeyed. Taking a deep breath, I lay on the bed. I pulled my slip down in place, the material wrinkled beyond smoothing. My hands lay over my stomach, my ankles crossed demurely.
Jake climbed up onto the bed. A sweet smile spread across his face. Gently, he took my ankles in his hands, uncrossing them and parting my legs. He crawled up in between my knees. “Pretty, pretty girl. I finally get to see what my wife tastes like.”
My hands flew to my face, hiding my blushing cheeks. Pushing up my slip until it was around my waist, he exposed my bare pussy. “I like this,” he said, rubbing my shaved skin. “Did you do this for me?”
A shiver ran through me. “Of course,” I answered, lowering my hands and smiling shyly at him. His handsome face radiated love, his hands moving to my thighs.
Then his head disappeared between my thighs.
“Oh my god,” I gasped, my knees bending and shooting up on either side of his head. My eyes closed, and my head lolled to the side. I saw stars behind my eyelids as he plunged within me, fucking my pussy with his strong tongue. His mouth surrounded my clit, sucking and nibbling. My back arched, my hips bucked, my pelvis pressed into his face.
His mouth left me. Looking down at me he said, “Patience. Now, put your bottom back down on the bed like a good girl. So rude, pressing your pussy up into the air like that.”
I closed my eyes in shame, lowering myself back down onto the bed.
They popped open wide when Jake slapped the bare skin of my mound. “Naughty girl.”
“You can’t spank me… there,” I gasped.
He slapped my pussy again. “I can spank you here.” His big hand grabbed my hip, turning it so my bottom was exposed. Another hard slap, this time to my already sore bottom. “I can spank you there.” Pressing my hip back down onto the bed, he spanked my pussy once more. “I can spank you anywhere.”
His mouth was on mine. I could taste my honey nectar on his lips. He kissed me hard, my hips threatened to gyrate, but I used every ounce of my energy to control them.
“Jake, please,” I begged when he pulled away from me.
“You want more?” he asked, his eyes glassy with his own desire.
Biting my bottom lip, I nodded. I couldn’t take much more. I wanted what I needed.
On his knees on the bed, Jake looked me over once more, murmuring, “Beautiful,” for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He disappeared beneath me.
My hands grabbed his thick hair, pulling his face tighter into me. The sucking stopped, and his tongue ran roughly over my clit, the pressure building. Two of his fingers slipped inside me, the walls of my vagina clenching hard around them. The walls of my bottom tightened around the plug.
I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. Jake gave a final, deep plunge of his fingers, his mouth moving faster and harder over my clit. I bucked hard, my pelvis hovering in the air as my entire body exploded into ecstasy. He pinched my nipple hard. I cried out from the shocking pain. I cried his name. I cried every swear word I had ever heard.
His fingers still pumping within me, I was coming once, twice, a third time. I could take no more, my hands shoving his head from me. A heady, choking, sob of a laugh escaped me, tears burning in my eyes. My knees fell to either side, laying on the bed. My body went slack. My eyes closed, my head resting on the pillow.
I was spent.
He was not finished with me.
His hungry eyes never left me as he unbuttoned and unzipped the black tux pants he wore. From them sprung the head of his long, hard, beautiful cock. Seeing it for the first time, I was not disappointed. But I was scared—that thing looked like it could tear me in two, especially with my bottom al
ready filled with the plug.
Leaning over me, his hands pressing into the bed on either side of my face, he kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my cheek bones. He softly kissed my lips. “My wife,” he murmured sweetly.
The tip of his cock pressed against my entrance, then plunged within me.
I moaned. It was everything I had waited for and more. As we moved our bodies together, we were one.
Thrusting his huge cock all the way into me, I gasped at the pressure. I was filled with Jake, filled with the plug, filled with a burning rapture. A new orgasm began to build in the walls of my pussy, clenching around his hard member. My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tightly to me. I kissed his neck as he moved in and out, my hips moving back and forth to greet him each time.
“Oh, Buttercup. How I have wanted you.”
“Was I worth the wait?”
At my words, he froze. His eyes opened and locked on mine, his fingertips brushing the hair back out of my eyes.
“Every single second. And every single year of the ten years I waited for you to come back to Poke.”
Tears stung my eyes, threatening to fall. Jake loved me. I had known it, but here in this bed, with him inside of me for the first time, I knew it.
“My God, I love you,” I breathed. Jake began moving his hips back and forth slowly, and my pelvis rose to meet his. We found a rocking rhythm that took both our breaths away. We moved faster, a tightening building within me. Jake gave a moan of pleasure, his fingers clutching my hair as we came together, man and wife. Two becoming one.
Chapter 3
Jake
Retuning to real life after spending two blissful weeks in Mexico was… tough. Damn near impossible even. But we had our memories. And Buttercup still had those thin tan lines around her neck from the strings of that itty-bitty bikini that drove me crazy. I would see them poking out of the collar of her shirt and it would take me right back to that white sand beach, my fingers undoing her top with one well-placed tug. It had taken two bottles of sunscreen and constant reapplication, but she was proud of the slight tan on her pale skin, a token of our time together.
Having Buttercup in my bed every night made the transition from vacation to work a little easier. Her lithe body, her round curves. The way my slightest touch had her hips squirming, her pussy begging for attention. But I had a living to earn—wanting to support my new bride and give her the financial security she deserved—and so I had finally kissed her sleeping forehead, crawled out of our marriage bed, and gotten back to work.
The workshop I had built in the backyard when I first bought the place was proving to be invaluable. I had high hopes for my business when I had purchased this ram-shackle homestead from the bank over ten years ago. Only an acre of land and not as private as I would like, it was still a great piece of property.
I had moved in, slowly fixing the place up as I could afford to. The original hardwood floors had been refinished—that was a job I had to sub out, I could lay flooring till the cows came home but had no business refinishing it—the interior painted a bright, clean white. Better to display my small art collection.
The bathrooms and kitchen I had gutted, opting to build my own custom cabinets for both. A sturdy knotty pine that had character and flaws—just like the rest of the house—had worked out beautifully in my custom designs. I replaced the cheap laminate counter tops with cherry wood, staining them dark to highlight the knots in the pine cabinets.
By the time Buttercup moved to Poke, the house was finished. The timing was providential. Our first date, I had brought her here, to this house. She had complimented my paintings and woodworking. My big shop slash art studio in the back was just about done. Half of the large, sunny building was outfitted for a woodworker’s shop, the other half for an artist. I was both.
These days though, I barely had time for my paintings. The custom furniture orders were coming in faster than I could complete them. Someone saw Ms. Phillips’ turn of the century style hutch and that lead to a farmhouse style dining set, which lead to teak wood patio furniture.
Which brought me a recommendation from a satisfied customer, to their friend, who had commissioned my latest project. When Sarah Fritz had asked me to build custom shelves for her bakery, I was hesitant. According to Jessica and Carrie, she had a reputation of being a tough cookie. But Buttercup had a sweet spot for the baker and urged me to take the job. I figured if I did the best job I could, Sarah would like the shelves.
I had gotten as much done as I could before leaving for the honeymoon—working late into the night cutting, hammering, sanding and painting.
The sun rose, birds chirping to welcome the day. Buttercup came in, bringing me my favorite breakfast—her bacon, egg and cheese on toast. I thanked her, giving her a kiss and sending her on her way to Poke Rescue & EMS where she volunteered at on Tuesdays.
After eating the sandwich, I touched up the few small areas of paint that were a bit too thin. Standing back, I appraised my work. Not bad. “Better now than never,” I told myself. It was time to stop staring at the shelves, looking for imperfections that I could not find, and deliver the darn things.
Loading them up into the bed of my truck I drove down the road a piece to the bakery. Passing by the blue building I blew a kiss at the Poke Rescue & EMS since 1975 sign. I wondered what Buttercup was up to, today.
Arriving at the bakery I backed the truck carefully into the closest spot by the back door. Sarah greeted me at the back entrance. “Hi, Jake! You got my shelves in there?” She wiped her hands on her apron, peering over my shoulder.
“Yes, ma’am. I’d like to go ahead and bring them in to install them if that’s all right with you.”
“Now’s as good a time as any. I’m excited to see them up.” She gave me a curt smile, holding the door open and standing behind it. I lowered the latch on the door of my truck bed and gingerly slid the first shelving unit out. It was an awkward load for one guy, but somehow, I managed to get both sets into the bakery without putting a scratch on either one.
It only took two hours to install them. They were a perfect fit in the nook between the bank of windows and the corner of the wall. I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Standing back with my arms crossed over my chest, I admired my finished handiwork. Not bad at all.
“Oh, Jake!” I looked over my shoulder, not realizing Sarah Fritz had appeared from the kitchen, standing behind me. Her eyes were wide and shiny with unfallen tears. She had a frilly apron clutched in her bony hands, held up to her face, covering her mouth. She looked to be in shock. Were they not what she had been expecting?
They had warned me she was tough. Maybe I could still salvage the job. “I can fix them if you don’t like them. But I’m pretty sure this is what we had discussed—”
Putting up a hand to stop me, she said, “No… no… it isn’t’ that. It’s just… they are even prettier than I imagined.”
My heart restarted in my chest. I would have felt terrible if a customer had been disappointed—I had yet to experience that. Wiping a bit of sweat from my brow with the sleeve of my work shirt, I managed a, “Glad you like them.”
“I can’t wait for my local crafters to display their wares. They are going to look just beautiful on these glossy white shelves, Jake. I couldn’t be happier. And Jake, when are we going to get some of your paintings up here on these walls? You can leave a price tag underneath and I’d have a bright splash of color in here and you might sell some paintings. What do you say?” Her eyes shined up at me expectantly.
Placing my hand on her shoulder, I said, “You flatter me, Sarah. I doubt anyone would want a Jake Hargett original. I should probably stick to woodworking.”
“Oh, no, son. You have talent. I saw it that day you toured me around the house when I was picking the gloss of the paint for the shelves from your workshop. That sunset painting—now that’s something special. I don’t usually go for the abstract art—you know the ones that are all squares and circles. I prefer
real art. Give me a painting of a forest or a river any day. But your art—well there was just something special about the way you blended all those colors. Like you have to look closely, but not too close and the painting will tell you what it is. Like how I just knew all those pinks and oranges were a glimpse of the setting sun.”
I considered her words a compliment, liking the idea of ‘the painting telling you what it is’. I had never thought of my paintings in that way. “Well, thank you, ma’am. I have one more project I must complete and then maybe I will try my hand at something for your wall here.”
I owed my wife a painting as a wedding gift. Something she could hold onto when we were old and remember our first days as a married couple. As much as I wracked my mind and heart, I just didn’t know what it was supposed to be of yet.
“Well, I’ll look forward to it. And Mr. Cooper left just before you arrived. He said to tell you to come on down to the ranch and see about building him a new coop for the chickens. Don’t let him try and swindle you, either. I swear that man holds his hand so tight around his wallet its shaped like a cylinder. The shelves, they really are something.” Patting my hand and dabbing her eyes with her apron, Sarah hurried away from me.
Going behind her glass case, Sarah began packing up one of each of her signature cupcakes in a clear plastic tray. “Here—take these. Key lime, Coco Nuts, PB &J, Double Dutch Chocolate—you know that one’s Buttercup’s favorite, you be sure to save it for her—Vanilla Bean and Raspberry Creme.” Snapping the lid on the tray, she scurried back over to me.
“Here,” she said, sticking the cupcakes in my face, as if ready to be rid of me. “Take these. And don’t you eat that Double Dutch. That one is for that sweet little wife of yours. I swear, ladies these days don’t know how to behave. Manners must be out of style, but that Buttercup… she is just all sugar and spice and everything nice. Now, go on,” her hands shoved the cupcakes at me shooing me from the Bakery.
Mastering Her Will (Dirty Texas Love Book 2) Page 5