by Rebel Rose
He pushes my dress down my body and it falls into a puddle on the floor. I lift one foot and then another, kicking it away. My bra goes next and he drags my G-string down my legs. I’m left in only my heels and jewelry.
“Hands on the window and spread your feet apart.” I do as he says and he strikes my right cheek with his palm. Hard. It’s definitely going to leave a reddened handprint. “Farther apart, Mrs. Broussard. I’ll never be able to fit my enormous cock inside you like that.”
The urge to smile is overwhelming, and it wins out.
“Yes, Mr. Broussard.”
He strikes my left cheek. “Is something funny, Mrs. Broussard?”
The sting is enough to wipe away any trace of my grin. “No, Mr. Broussard. Nothing is funny.”
His body pushes against mine, forcing my upper forehead and chest to press against the window’s glass. And motherfucker… it’s cold. My nipples painfully harden to points that could possibly cut through the glass like diamonds.
My jaw clenches and I suck air through my gnashed teeth. “Ooh… ooh… ooh.”
His chuckle is low and throaty. Bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me, and he’s enjoying the fuck out of it.
He nibbles my earlobe and then his mouth hovers over the shell of my ear. “Does Mrs. Broussard want her pussy to be licked?”
A completely different kind of chill spreads over my body. “Yes.”
“Beg for it.”
I’ve figured out this game. Plead a little and then plead a little more until I’m downright begging. Let him know that he’s the one in charge and that I’m at his mercy. My orgasm is completely and utterly at his discretion, and I will only come with his permission.
“Please lick my pussy, Mr. Broussard.”
“Tsk… tsk, Mrs. Broussard. Not good enough.”
“Pleeease. I want your mouth on my pussy sooo baaad.”
“Better, but not loud enough.”
I raise my voice per his request. “Please, Mr. Broussard. I’m begging you to lick my pussy. I’m at your mercy. I can’t even tell you how much I want and need your talented tongue. You’re the only one who can make me feel good.”
“Good girl,” he whispers, satisfaction oozing in his tone.
He goes down on his knees behind me and spreads my cheeks apart. “Tilt that beautiful ass up for your husband.”
I lean against the cold window and arch my lower back, not allowing myself to think about this little game of husband and wife too much.
“Oh, that’s my good girl.”
He spreads my cheeks and pushes his face against my pussy, licking it from front to back in one long stroke, making my knees weak. This is going to be so fucking good. I can already tell.
His tongue laps at my lips, my center, and then his tongue moves from front to back without stopping.
Whoa. Wait.
Did he just lick my asshole? On purpose?
I must have relaxed too much, and he must have become overzealous. Because I don’t think that he would intentionally do something like that.
I deepen the arch of my back so he can have more pussy and less asshole.
“Feels good?”
“God, yes.”
“Want me to stop?”
“Never.”
His tongue flattens against my pussy lips and he slowly drags it down… and then up again over my asshole a second time.
Is he getting confused about my anatomy because we’re in this awkward position? Should I say something? No, that will kill the mood for him entirely. Hell, worrying about it is sort of killing the mood for me. This is hot. I need to just go with this.
He spreads my slit and pushes his tongue into my pussy. My muscles clench and relax in an effort to build my orgasm.
Tristan tongue fucks me and then shakes his face against my body, making my cheeks shake violently. “Fuck, I love your pussy so much.”
I’ve never had a man seem so obsessed with my vagina. He acts like he’s never had better, which is a complete turn-on for me.
“I love your mouth on my pussy.”
His arm stretches around my body and his fingers rub my clit as his tongue glides up and down my pussy lips. My orgasm is climbing and building and growing. And I don’t know if he’s going to give me permission to come or not. “I can feel it starting. I’m going to come.”
His fingers continue rubbing my clit, but his tongue abandons my pussy and moves to my tight puckered hole. He flattens it and moves his head up and down, licking it.
And it feels so damn good.
But why? It’s not intended for that. It shouldn’t feel this way.
My back arches and I tense when the quivering begins in my pussy. He pushes his tongue against me harder and it’s almost more than I can stand. “Ohh… I’m coming so hard.”
My body shudders and my womb flutters in a rhythmic pattern. A pulsating warmth spreads through my body. Everything tingles—my face, my hands, my feet. And my ears are ringing.
While he licks me… there.
This is so wrong.
I spiral down from the high and relax against the glass, now relieved by its cool temperature.
I hear him kick off his shoes, and I don’t dare to turn around and look when I hear small thuds on the padded carpet behind me, but I count them. One, his jacket. Two, his tie. Three, his shirt. Four, his pants and belt.
Tristan’s front presses against my back, his hard cock probing at my entrance. “Arch your back so I can slide my cock in, Mrs. Broussard.”
I rest my upper body against the glass window and use all of my strength to tilt my ass up so Tristan can fit his fat cock inside me. When I’m in position, it slides through my slick folds into my pussy.
“Mmm.” He wraps his arm around my waist and holds me tightly. “Only someone I call wife can withstand the fuck session I’m about to give you.”
The first brutal thrust is delivered and nearly lifts me out of my heels. “Uhh!”
Tristan pounds his cock into me without mercy. Every thrust is solid because there’s no cushion from a bed or couch. “You can scream if you want to, Mrs. Broussard. Cry even. I love both.”
The room is filled with three sounds: Tristan’s brutal grunts, my ardent squeals, and the wet suction-friction sound of his cock rapidly jackhammering into me. My entire body is being jarred because he’s fucking me so hard.
He fucks me that way until my body quivers with exhaustion. A veil of sweat has formed over both of us and our skin is now sliding against one another with hardly any friction. I’m even having trouble holding my palms and forehead against the window; they keep sliding.
Tristan’s hands grip the backs of my thighs, and he lifts me like a chair against his chest, carrying me to the bedroom. He tosses me onto the bed facedown and crawls over me, his cock slamming into me before I can get situated. “Take it, Mrs. Broussard. Take every inch with your ass up and your head down.”
Every thrust feels like he’s touching something deep within me. I don’t know what, but it’s tender. Not unbearable, but I can’t stop the scream that expels from my lungs each time he hits it. And my screams only manage to jockey him on.
He pulls out of me. “Get on your back.”
I muster all of my remaining strength to flip over. He kneels between my thighs and jerks on his cock, his face contorted. “I’m close, Mrs. Broussard.”
“Come on me, Mr. Broussard.”
He closes his eyes and jerks faster.
“I’m your wife, Mr. Broussard. Mark me. Claim me. Show me that I’m yours.”
I don’t even know where those words came from. It’s like they formed on their own and tumbled from my mouth.
Tristan lowers his body to hover over mine. He holds his weight above me with one arm, forcing every muscle in his arm to bulge. So fucking sexy.
He squeezes his eyes closed for a second and groans. And then opens his eyes wide and watches stream after stream of cum shoot from the tip of his cock landing on my stomach, my ch
est, my neck, my chin, my face. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“I belong to you.”
He releases his grip on his cock and places his flat palm on my chest. He slides it through the cum, smearing it all over me. Rubbing it into my skin. “Mine.”
I put my hand on top of his. “Yours.”
His arm is shaking violently, but he lowers his face to mine and places a soft kiss against my lips before rolling to his back and collapsing.
His breath is a pant, as is mine. And as I work to catch my breath, I reflect on what just happened.
Fuck, that was intense.
Fuck, that was weird.
We just spent the last twenty minutes pretending to be a married couple who fucks like savages. I don’t even know what that was all about. And I’m afraid to ask.
Tristan lifts my hand and brings it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the top. A complete contradiction of what he just did to me. “Come here.”
I roll toward him and assume the same cuddling position as last night. He glances down at me. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure? That was pretty intense.”
“I’m good.”
He rubs his hand up and down my arm. “I’ve never done anything like that—I mean the husband-and-wife scene.”
A giggle forms in my chest and rises to leave my mouth. “Me either.”
“I liked it. I’ll probably want to do it again.”
Pretending like that was a little weird, but hot. I didn’t mind. “Whatever you want, Mr. Broussard.”
“I was thinking we could have dinner at one of the hotel restaurants and then turn in early. I have an early meeting.”
It’s been an exhausting day. We were up at four this morning, and then our chartered flight was delayed for some reason. Tristan wasn’t a happy man. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
“We’ll unpack our things when we get up and then go out for an early dinner.”
I touch the cum between my breasts. “I can’t go to dinner without a shower.”
“What about a bath together? After a short nap?”
“That sounds perfect.”
Tristan chooses a floral halter dress for me to wear to dinner. Soft. Flowing. Romantic. Elizabeth did a great job of choosing clothes for me. I don’t think that I could have picked anything that I liked better.
Tristan is on the sofa waiting when I come out of the bathroom. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to take so long.”
He looks at me, and I don’t mistake the long breath he inhales before slowly exhaling. “Worth. Every. Minute. You look beautiful.”
I never tire of hearing Tristan tell me I’m beautiful. “Thank you.”
“Don’t forget your ID.”
I giggle because I always get carded for drinks and at the entrance into a casino. “Right.”
I’m a bit on the small side for a grown woman. And I have a young-looking face with big eyes and a pixie nose. I’ll give them that, but I have boobs and hips. My body has the shape of a grown woman.
Despite the early hour, the restaurant is already pretty crowded when we arrive. People are standing around, waiting to be seated. “Looks like everyone else had the same idea as us.”
Tristan grins when he sees the hostess. “Let me handle this.”
“Go for it.” I stand back and let the man who gets what he wants go to work.
I stand next to Tristan at the hostess’s stand waiting to see how he handles this situation. “Hello. Welcome to Flannigan’s.”
“Good evening. The name is Broussard, and we need a table for two. No. I guess it’s a table for three now. Isn’t it, honey?” Tristan puts his arm around me, pulls me close, and places his hand on my stomach. “We just found out that we’re having a baby. Like literally thirty minutes ago when she took the test in the hotel room. We’ve been trying for three years, and it finally happened. I’m sorry. That was probably too much information, but we’re just so thrilled.”
“Congratulations. That is wonderful,” the hostess says.
“I was hoping we could have a romantic dinner to celebrate, but you look really busy.”
The hostess smiles and winks. “Let me see what I can do to help you celebrate your little miracle.”
Tristan smirks and winks at me. So damn smug. And I’m not the least bit shocked when the woman returns to escort us to a table. “Enjoy your dinner, and congratulations again on your little bundle of joy.”
“A baby? Wow. Just… wow.” He played on that woman’s emotions like it was nothing.
“Don’t act so surprised. I believe that you’re the one who called me ruthless.”
Yes, I did. Because there are no bounds that this man won’t cross to get what he wants.
Ruthless bastard.
I stretch, and my muscles scream in agony, reminding me of the rough fucking that I took from Tristan yesterday. Damn, the man was a beast. So much so that I must literally take some oral pain reliever for my sore muscles and stiff joints today.
We didn’t have sex last night after we went to bed. We lay down, talked for a little while, and then turned off the lamps and went to sleep. I didn’t hate that. My pussy took a pounding and was still sore after soaking in the tub.
Tristan comes out of the bathroom and sits on the bed beside me, his hand behind his back. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“I have to go; my meeting is in thirty minutes.”
“Will you be gone all day?”
“I will. This morning’s meeting is only the first of three I have scheduled for today.”
That’s disappointing. “I won’t see you until tonight?”
“No. You’re completely on your own today, but you do have an appointment at eleven.”
“What kind of appointment?”
“A little bit of well-deserved pampering. I scheduled you for an hour and a half in the spa, and then an hour with a masseuse—a woman, per my request. I don’t want any man to put his hands on my submissive.”
Tristan confuses me. He allowed Easton to fuck Claudia while she was his submissive, but he won’t even let a male masseur touch me for a massage. His possessive alpha-male tendencies toward me are unexpected.
I stretch a bit. “A massage will be wonderful. I’m super sore from that wild fuck yesterday.”
He smiles. “The wild fucks have only just begun, bebelle.”
“I’m bebelle again?”
“You’re always bebelle.”
I like being bebelle, but I also liked being Mrs. Broussard yesterday.
“Would you like to do another scene like that? Be Mrs. Broussard?”
“Only if it’s what you want.” Lie. I’m dying to do it again. I want to strip off his suit and do it right now.
“I would like to do it again.” He pushes his hand below the sheet and rubs my butt cheek. “I also have other things that I want to do to you.”
I sense something anal-related. “Like what?”
“Can’t tell you. Gotta show you.”
Maybe he isn’t referring to anal sex. He never hesitates to tell me that that’s what he wants. “When?”
“Tonight.”
Good. Hopefully my soreness should be worked out by tonight. “Look forward to it.”
He leans down, presses a closed-mouth kiss to my lips, and digs his fingers into the flesh on my ass. “Have a fun day.”
“I will.”
“I’ll text when I’m finished with my meetings, and we’ll have dinner together.”
“Do you want to choose my outfit now so I can be dressed and ready to go when you finish with your meetings?”
He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Wear the royal blue dress. Hair down in loose curls. Nighttime makeup that will go well with the dress.”
“As you wish.”
He moves his hand from behind his back, and I see why he was keeping it out of my sight. “I’m going to use this on you tonight.”
Shit.
Strips of leather attached to a leather braided handle. All black. The thing screams pain. And ecstasy.
He drags the leather tails of the flogger over my thighs. “We both have all day to think about it.”
I’m tempted to ask him to hit me with it now, so I won’t spend the day worrying about it. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say them.
“I’m very excited about taking our relationship to this next level. How are you feeling about it?”
“Scared.”
“I understand, bebelle. But I’m not going to do anything to you that you can’t handle. Ever. All you have to say is rouge, and it ends right then and there. I swear this to you.”
I look at the flogger in his hand. “What if I can’t handle it?”
“We’ll start out slowly, and you can tell me what’s okay and what’s not. I will listen and honor whatever you say.”
I nod. “All right.” I want to tell him that I trust him. I know that’s something that is very important to him, but I’m not there yet.
Tristan leans down and kisses my forehead, and it feels so affectionate. “I will see you this evening.”
“All right.”
“Enjoy your massage and spa day.”
As if there’s a chance I wouldn’t. “I have a feeling that I will.”
An affectionate kiss on the forehead this morning.
An ass-whipping tonight.
I need a massage because the man gives me whiplash.
The door shuts and I pick up the flogger. I drag the leather strips over the palm of my hand and know exactly what I have to do if I’m to have any peace of mind today.
I lift the flogger and bring it down as hard as I can on my thigh. The leather strips sting my skin, but it’s tolerable. Maybe even pleasurable in a weird kind of way, but I already know that there will be a lot more velocity behind it when Tristan uses it on me.
Maybe he’ll let me be Mrs. Broussard again.
I enter the spa and the receptionist heads me off before I can say a word. “Mrs. Broussard?”
Well, well. It looks like I am Mrs. Broussard. “Yes.”
“We’re ready for you. Right this way.”
I follow the small brunette into a room at the back of the spa. She places a luxurious robe on the chair and instructs me on what we’ll be doing. Once changed, I’m taken to a private room where the magic begins.