He leans in, his lips almost touching my ear. “I was wrong yesterday when we fought. I can’t promise happiness forever. But I can promise to love you forever.”
The sting of a slap morphs to a pleasant warmth as it spreads across my cheek.
"Do you understand that?" His voice is so smooth, so confident, and I nod.
"Yes."
Another slap on the other side.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Max." I understood it as soon as Eliza arrived. I understood parts of it before that, too, but Max telling her about us clicked it all into place. That doesn't mean I don't want to hear him say it now.
And I want him to show me, too. I want him to imprint himself on my skin.
He repeats the alternating spank, then tells me to settle in because we're going to be here for a while.
He's not wrong, although my sense of time starts to slip as the pain spikes. Max continues to heat my ass with his hand until I’m sure there’s not even the tiniest spot that’s not the brightest pink. In between strikes he leans over me and whispers another truth in my ear.
"And I should’ve clued in earlier that love isn’t about happiness forever."
Tears prick behind my eyelids because he's right. I know that.
"Love is pain and suffering and standing there, beside each other, through it all, because you don’t want your love to bear it alone."
I nod, the tears welling up now. I feel the first one slide onto my cheek and he comes around to squat in front of me.
"Let it out, kitten. You ready for more?"
"Yes," I breathe.
"I can promise you that you will never be alone, ever again.”
I sob outright, and he leans in, kissing my mouth, then my cheek, and he stays with me in front of the bench until a new calm falls over me.
"More?" he asks gently, rubbing my jaw.
"Love or spanking?"
He crooks one eyebrow. "Maybe they're the same thing."
I laugh weakly. "Yes, please."
He rises and moves behind me, returning to his brutal and delicious assault on my bottom.
When things get muzzy, he notices immediately. “No sub-space tonight, kitten. I want you completely present for everything I give you.”
I was hoping he’d make me fly, but I bury the twinge of disappointment. Max will take care of me.
Next, I hear the slide of his belt as he pulls it through the loops of his jeans. I love that belt. I love the sharp bite when it connects with my skin. I love the memory of that feeling whenever I see it around Max’s waist—which is often.
He takes his time watching me, and the seconds tick by. The first snap across my upper thighs makes me jolt. Max’s hand pressing against the small of my back was all the warning I get. Warm up is over.
The next strike lands before I get a chance to process the first. All I can focus on is breathing and taking the next stroke.
More land, all over my flesh, and I can't stop myself from eventually drifting.
“Colour, Violet?”
Max’s voice pulls me back from the place I was floating towards and it takes me a second to refocus.
“Green.” I hear my voice slurring, like it has a mind of its own.
“No, kitten, I think we’ve gone far enough.”
“But...”
“I said no.” He lays a blanket over my back and releases my cuffs from the bench before helping me off and lifting me into his arms.
“You didn’t use any of those toys,” I say, pointing as we pass the medical tray.
His chuckle is a deep rumble against my cheek. “Look.” He sweeps the cloth back to reveal an empty tray. “There were no toys.”
Max and his mind fucks.
We don’t go to the sofa for aftercare like we usually do. Instead Max carries me straight up to our room. That rings in my head for a minute. This is the first time I’ve ever really thought of it as ours and not Max’s.
He lays me gently on the bed and climbs on, pulling me into his arms.
“Remember downstairs when I said I can’t promise happiness, but I can promise you love?”
“Yes.” I want to tell him I get it, I really do, but words escape me.
“There’s more.” He takes a long breath. “I can promise to be there for you, no matter what. When it gets shitty and hard, I’ll have your back. And I’ve got broad shoulders, kitten. You can put the weight of the world on my back and I won’t break. I’ll protect you with everything I have. Because I love you more than anything in the world." He rests his hand on my belly. “You’ve got me, and our baby, and we can make more if you want. We’ll make a family together, big or small, and it’ll be perfect. And imperfect, too, and that’ll be exactly what I want. I want it all, and I want it with you.”
49
Violet
I wake up in the middle of the night in early January, alone in Max’s bed. Our bed.
We’ve returned to normal in every way, including both being slammed at work, and last night we were both passed out at half past nine. I guess that tripped him up, because it’s four now and he’s probably woken for the day.
I go pee and get a glass of water, then a faint murmur of sound draws me to the living room, where Max is slouched on the sofa, watching a hockey game on the television.
His fist is wrapped around the tiny Canucks jersey I got him for Christmas.
I stop in the doorway for a moment and just watch him, but he senses me and looks over.
“Hey. Sorry, did I wake you?”
I shake my head. “Had to pee.”
He nods and holds out his arm. I join him on the couch and he kisses the top of my head.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“Got a page. Called the resident back. I’ll head to the hospital in a bit for rounds, but I’ve got time to watch last night’s game.”
I nod and close my eyes, leaning into his warmth. I drift off against him, and the next thing I know he’s shifting out from under me and covering me with an afghan.
The game is over.
“I’m off to work,” he whispers. “Want a wake up call in an hour?”
I nod and drift off again.
After work the next day, I have an appointment with my lawyer. We go over the options. We could inform the partners of my relationship with Max in writing, or we could request a meeting and do it in real time. The second could be seen as confrontational, because I’ll have my attorney with me, but it could also be a chance to show them my strength of conviction. Both on the fact that I’m sure my relationship isn’t wrong, and that I’m not going to be pushed around and punished for it.
Max wants to be there, but that’s a terrible idea, so I don’t tell him about this appointment. He’d want to be here, too, a fact that makes my lawyer, Gail Besson, chuckle. “He’s a romantic,” she says.
“He’s something.” I smile. He’s definitely protective, and I love that, but there have to be some boundaries.
“So we’ll tell them in person?” she asks, turning the conversation back to the decision at hand.
“I think so. I want to see their reaction with my own eyes. I want everything on the table. We’re not adversaries.”
“That’s exactly the right attitude.” She nods. “I’ll draft a letter to hand across the table. Can we go over what you will tell them, exactly? I don’t want to hear any surprises. No admissions of guilt, even accidentally.”
I get that, of course. “Yes, let’s go over it one more time.”
“And then you can tell that handsome man of yours to stop worrying.”
“I’m not sure that’ll ever happen, but I’ll pass on the message.”
Even with the extra appointment, I get home before Max. I put soup on for dinner, because it’s cold and blustery out, and then I go upstairs and undress. A hot shower is exactly what I need right now, and the soup can just simmer until we’re ready to eat.
I’m just rinsing conditioner out of my hair when the bathroom do
or swings open and Max walks in. I rub away the steam on the glass and give him a little wave. “Hey, baby. I made soup.”
“I saw that.” He unbuttons his shirt and drops it on the bathroom floor. “I turned it off.”
“How was your day?”
“Long as fuck. Yours?”
“Mmm. Long, but productive.” I hesitate. “I had another meeting with Gail.”
He doesn’t say anything, just strips the rest of his clothes off and steps into the shower, joining me under the steady spray of hot water. He grips my chin and glares at me, his eyes glittering.
I push my chin against his thumb. Let him be grumpy. “It’s my problem, Max.”
“And you’re mine.” He bumps me back against the wall and crashes his mouth down, ruthlessly thrusting his tongue against mine. Daring me to fight him back this way. Daring me to earn a punishment we’ll both enjoy, I’m sure.
I bend for him, going pliant right away, and let him take out his frustration on me. He channels it into hard-edged pleasure, and before long I’m hitched up against the wall and he’s rubbing his erection between my legs.
“Fuck me,” I whisper. Sometimes it’s just gotta be hard and fast like this.
With a groan, he turns me around and presses against me, his cock against my ass, his hands wrapped around me, lifting up my tits. He plays with my nipples almost lazily and I flatten my palms against the tile. My heart is pounding as he bites my shoulder and uses his foot to nudge my legs apart. His palm slides down from my breast, possessively cupping the swell of my belly. That makes me so wet, every time.
With a heavy hand on my hip, he tilts my pelvis and thrusts against me from behind, his erection sliding against my folds and nudging into my clit. I moan and rock back, wanting more of that.
Actually, no.
I want something else even more.
I stay pressed against the tile, but I reach back and take his hand. He lets me guide him, and I slide his fingers over my bottom and into the cleft between my ass cheeks, right to my rear hole.
“Here. Take me here.”
He rubs me lightly, making my legs tremble. “Are you sure? I don’t want to—”
“You won’t hurt me.” I let go of his hand and press my fingers against the tile again.
He exhales and rubs me again, firmer now. I breathe out and relax against his touch. No matter how many times we do this with his fingers and plugs, it still feels invasive.
Nasty.
Dirty.
Wrong.
Amazing.
“So eager for my cock in your ass,” he growls as his fingertip gets pulled in, and he fucks me ever so slightly with it before easing out. “Stay here.”
I don’t move a muscle, and it just takes him ten seconds to grab the lube I know is in the drawer under the sink.
Max has lube in every room of the house now. It’ll make baby proofing kind of interesting.
The next touch is cold and slick, his finger easing back into me, stretching me open for him.
“Take another one,” he urges, and I push back, gasping at the burn, but breathing through it. “Good. You’re such a dirty little slut for me. Riding my fingers without any shame.”
Heat floods through me at his words. Yes. I’m totally shameless with Max. “I want to ride more than your fingers,” I say breathlessly. “Give it to me.”
“You’re mouthy tonight.”
“Gonna teach me a lesson, Principal Donovan?”
He curses under his breath. “Better believe it.” Another rough exhale as he works his fingers in and out of me, slowly fucking me in preparation for something a lot bigger. “You’ve been warned before, Ms. Roberts, about being a distraction.”
“Have I? I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember being called to my office and we had a discussion about your skirt length?”
“Mmm…not ringing any bells.”
He chokes back a laugh and eases his fingers out of me, leaving me aching and empty. He presses his entire body hard against mine, his mouth against my ear. “And now it seems you’ve lost your entire uniform, Ms. Roberts.”
“What did you expect if you came to find me in the girls’ locker room?”
Another laugh and a matching curse. “I expected to drag you back to my office so we could have another chat.”
“Sorry to miss it.”
“Oh, you’re not going to miss anything. Unfortunately I don’t have any ginger on hand, but…” He trails off as he fists himself, bringing the thick head of his cock right to where I’ve been begging him to put it.
What the hell was I thinking? I tense up and he just chuckles.
“Second thoughts, Ms. Roberts?”
I groan and press my ass back, pushing my pucker against the flared crown. Fuck, fuck, fuck…
The breach hurts like nothing else. There’s no stretching in the world that prepares for that pop inside, and then there’s another one, and my eyes are watering and not in a good way.
My mouth opens to scream, but the bastard’s taken my words too, as he slides inside me, slowly, inexorably, until he’s filled me with his massive cock.
I’m shuddering and gasping for air as he snakes his arm around my hip—and finds my clit so hard I try to jump at the contact.
I can’t, of course. I’m impaled on an erection I was begging for like a fool. But oh, that feels good when he touches my folds. My brain stammers back to life and I realize he’s whispering in my ear.
How good I feel.
How wet I am.
And I am, oh, I’m so wet for him. Slowly I relax in his arms and against the tile wall.
“Ready?” he asks, and that’s a stupid question.
Nobody could ever possibly be ready for this. But I nod. I want this. I want more.
He holds my hips as he eases out a few inches, then thrusts back in, and that’s better now that I’m adjusted to his girth, and with each pull and then push, I feel a corresponding pulse inside my pussy.
A tightening, like I could actually come like this.
When he reaches forward and rolls over my clit again, I know I can. “You do it, you naughty fucking troublemaker. You touch yourself and get yourself off on my cock.”
Fingers shaking, I shift my balance so I’m bracing against the wall with one arm, and I reach between my legs with my other hand.
The insides of my thighs are slick with my arousal. Holy fuck. I’m so slippery it’s hard to get a purchase on my clit, so I slide my fingers deeper, pulsing my fingertips into my clenching channel as I press the heel of my palm against my hard, desperate nub.
It just takes three slow circles of my hand to start a chain reaction climax that starts in my clit and spirals inside me in a shuddering, spectacular set of fireworks. Max rides it out until I’m done, then he pulls out, the first spurt of his come hitting the back of my leg, then he jerks himself against my ass, marking me with his release.
“Let me guess…” I say as I turn around and Max guides me under the hot shower spray again. “A week of detention?”
“At the very least. This is starting to look like a permanent behaviour problem I’m going to have follow personally.”
50
Max
“I can’t believe it’s my first time flying in first class and I can’t guzzle the complementary champagne,” Violet whispers after taking a sip of the fresh-squeezed orange juice she got instead.
“Next time.” I glance past her and out the window. “Look, there it is!”
White sand beaches and thatched roof huts. Salty ocean air and zero distractions for four days.
“I can’t wait.” She sighs and gives me a happy smile.
“I can’t wait to see you in that bikini.”
She touches her belly, and I cover her hand with mine.
“Don’t even think it. You’re gorgeous, just the way you are. And that’s the last pregnancy worry I want to hear this weekend unless something’s wrong.” I cover her mouth w
ith mine. She can’t protest if she’s being seduced.
With a surrendering sound, she kisses me back, and that’s the end of that.
We’re whisked from the airport to an exclusive resort on the far side of the island where our meals are brought to our private villa and we’re promised we won’t see another soul until we’re ready to leave again.
We hit the beach right away, and stay there until dinner, which we eat on the verandah, watching the sun set.
I’ve brought a bag full of kink to occupy our evenings, and when we go inside, I uncoil a length of rope.
Violet doesn’t miss a beat. We don’t have an ottoman, but she presents in the middle of the bed and it’s perfect. I torture her for hours, and we sleep in late the next morning.
For once, she’s up before me, and I only wake as she slips out of bed.
“Hey, get back here,” I mumble.
She squeaks and jumps, making her bum jiggle. I’m awake now. Hello, bum.
My woman is gorgeous every minute of every day. But naked and bathed in the early morning Caribbean light, her curves all on display and her dark waves tousled from sleep and our sex last night…
I’m definitely awake.
I follow her out of bed and pick her up, ignoring her protest, and bump her back against the wall. “Good morning.”
“Yes it is,” she whispers just before I kiss her.
“What do you want to do today?” I trail kisses down her neck, over her collarbone.
“Absolutely nothing. And you.”
“Good answer.”
“And breakfast. When is that going to arrive?”
I laugh and put her down. “Okay, swimsuit on. Food, then sex and beach.”
On our breakfast tray is a handwritten note from the concierge giving us a weather update, warning that a storm is expected to roll in over the afternoon, so we decide to hit the beach first.
We grab sunscreen and towels and books, shoving everything we need in a striped canvas bag which I loop over my left shoulder. Holding hands, we walk outside and down to the covered pair of loungers in the middle of the beach.
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