The Billionaire's Wife

by Ava Lore

  "Anton," I whispered. "Anton, please."

  I didn't know what I was asking for, only that it was out of my reach without him. Then he was pulling me into his lap and we were a jumble, hands and arms and legs, lips falling where they may in fevered kisses, and his hard, warm chest against mine filled me with anticipation. My greedy mouth ran over his throat, and his pulse hammered out of control. My legs hooked around his waist and I moved over him, restless and starving for him. His cock, already hard as a diamond, pushed up into the soft, hot hollow of my pussy. We fit together, sweet and hard, and I wanted to sob with happiness.

  Anton lifted me, my legs still locked around his waist, and carried me out of the gallery and up the stairs as my teeth found his earlobe and bit down. I wanted to devour him, wanted him to devour me. I let my tongue wander the folds of his ear and he groaned and trembled, sagging against the wall of the foyer when at last he reached it. His hands on my ass gripped me with bruising force, opening my pussy lips and parting my buttocks, exposing my empty places. I needed to be filled, and quickly. Pushing away from him, I climbed down and grabbed his hand. Together we ran up the stairs to his bedroom. Each step rubbed my thighs together, and my pussy, wet and slick with desire, shivered with the friction.

  We barely made it in the door before Anton fell on me, and we went down to the floor. The hard wood jarred me, and I was trapped between two hard things. Above me Anton bent his head to my throat, his hands moving the hem of my sweatshirt up over my stomach, his thumbs stroking the muscles there, and I moaned and bucked against him. I needed him inside me. I needed all of him.

  His hands found my breasts, covered them, squeezed, and I cried out. My eyes unfocused with the strength of my desire, my whole body a clinging, wanting thing, with no reason, no inhibitions at last. I wanted to love Anton. I wanted to know him. And he had let me in, just a little bit. The first step.

  It was enough for me for now. We were married, after all. We had the rest of our lives to figure it out.

  We wrestled on the floor, Anton flipping me over onto my stomach. The control that had always been there had loosened, and he was a man run wild, his hands everywhere, hooking into my pussy through my jeans, his erection grinding against the swell of my ass. I groaned and pushed back into him, begging him to take me however he wanted me, but he couldn't seem to get enough of touching me. As if he had been starving for a month, lost without being able to hold me, fuck me, do with me as he pleased. I reveled in it, in the proof of his need for me. He was in deep, and so was I.

  Reaching back, I ripped my shirt off, leaving it on the floor, and his hands unhooked my bra in record time, letting my breasts bounce free. His hands were on them in seconds, rough and possessive, my nipples scraping over his palms as he squeezed, pain and pleasure mingling inside me. He nudged my ass with his hips, his erection working its way between my ass cheeks.

  "Fuck me," I moaned. "Please, Anton."

  "Felicia." It came out as a grunt, and then he was hooking his arms around me, between my breasts and under my thigh, lifting me up from the floor. The world tipped and turned, and then I was landing on the bed, the softness reaching up to embrace me.

  He slipped my shoes and socks off before his hands fell to my waistband, ripping the button from its hole, unzipping my jeans. With a quick, sudden tug I was only in my panties.

  "I want to tie you up," he said. "I want to do so many things to you."

  "Do them," I said. "I trust you."

  A pained look crossed his face. "Thank you," he said, and he lowered his face to mine, capturing my lips in another kiss as his hands wandered to my panties. He moved the fabric aside, dipping his fingertips past my pussy lips, exploring my slippery cunt. His skin burned through his clothes, and I reached up, running my hands up over his hard shoulders, down his chest, crooking my fingers and catching his nipples through the soft fabric of his sweater. He hissed as I tugged at the hem of his undershirt, and the hand that wasn't probing my pussy came up and grabbed my hair. "Felicia," he said, his voice hoarse. "You don't know what you do to me."

  His scent filled my nose--warm and rich, the smell of fine fabrics and expensive aftershave, and under that the wild smell of a man who wanted nothing more than to lose control.

  He flipped me over onto my stomach, his hot mouth descending on my spine. Frantically he sucked and nipped his way down my back, and I writhed under him as his hands squeezed and worked my ass through the cotton of my panties. When at last he reached my waist, I felt the scrape of teeth over my skin and he was tugging my panties away with his mouth.

  I lifted my hips to make it easier for him, and he dipped his tongue into the crack of my ass, making me gasp. Reaching up he worked my underwear off the rest of the way as he rimmed my tight asshole, his tongue dipping and probing inside me. Embarrassment flooded me, but also arousal. He didn't care. He wanted me completely, no matter what the cost. His fingers found my pussy, and then he was pumping away at my cunt as he tongued my asshole.

  My hands gripped the comforter, twisting the cool fabric into bunches as he fucked me with his hands and his mouth. It had been so long, so many nights spent thinking about fucking him, spent trying to please myself and failing, that I was already quivering around him, my body galloping toward a violent release. I was no longer in control of myself. I was completely and utterly his, and I never wanted it to be otherwise.

  "Anton!" I cried into the comforter. "Anton, please, Anton, Anton, Anton--"

  "Fellicia," he murmured into my skin, and inside me he curled his fingers and pulled.

  My orgasm flowed over me in waves, pulling and tugging like a riptide, sucking me under. I shrieked into the mattress, my whole body thrashing as his fingers fucked me and his mouth sucked at the tight ring of nerves between the full mounds of my ass. He held onto me, his free hand snaking over my thighs, keeping me still under his ministrations as I came. But even as the pleasure subsided and my orgasm retreated, I felt unsatisfied. I needed him in me. I needed him to come in me, to reclaim me.

  "Anton," I said. "Anton, do whatever you want with me."

  He withdrew, and the cool air hit my wet, tight entrance, making it quiver. His fingers still pumped inside my pussy, and I just wanted to follow them wherever they went. "Are you sure?" he asked me.

  "I'm your wife," I said. "And I trust you. Please, take me."

  His free hand smoothed over my stomach as he rose up and curled his body over mine. "Felicia," he said, and his voice quavered very slightly. He was touched by my trust. I knew he wanted to be with me, and only his fear of losing me, of losing what we could be, had caused him to keep secrets from me. But it was okay. It was okay.

  After a moment, he retreated and cool air hit me again. Just hearing him move across the bed made me quiver, knowing that he would do what he wanted with me and I would let him.

  "Get up," he said, and I did, making sure I kept my ass in the air so he had a nice eyeful of his favorite places. When my feet touched the cold floorboards, I straightened and stood, knowing instinctively that I shouldn't turn around unless he instructed me to do so. Wood scraped over wood as he opened a drawer in the bedside table.

  "Turn.

  I turned.

  Anton stood before me, his green eyes glittering, his powerful body filled with his self-control. I wanted nothing more than to help him find his release through controlling me. I lowered my eyes and let my gaze rest on the bulge in his trousers. His cock strained against the fabric, and I imagined tracing it with my mouth, nipping him through his boxers, making him come in his pants without ever directly touching his cock. Then I realized he held something at his side. A thick coil of rope.

  Ah. So he was going to tie me up. He'd never done it with rope before.

  He stepped forward and looped the rope around my neck. Licking my lips, I tried to control my breathing, but my heart picked up the pace and so did my lungs. With exaggerated care, Anton tied the rope in knots--one knot, two knots, three knots--traveling down my
body in a line. The backs of his hands brushed over my skin, the barest of touches as he tied the rope. More knots, then he let the rope fall, its incredible length pooling on the floor at my feet.

  "Step forward," he said.

  I obeyed, maneuvering so I straddled the rope. He made a pleased noise, then circled me. I felt him behind me, his incredible presence impossible to mistake or ignore, and closed my eyes. Between my legs I felt my pulse fluttering as he crouched down. The rope brushed over my skin as he fiddled with it, then he was pulling it back and up, laying the two long tails of the rope on either side of my pussy lips. My mouth went dry as he pulled the rope up through the crack of my ass and began to loop it around over my skin, weaving the ends in and out of the spaces between the knots at the front of my body. The rope slipped and slithered over me, an intimate extension of his touch.

  "Put your arms behind you," he said. I did so.

  His hand landed on my ass in a sharp spank, and I jumped and gasped, my pussy flooding with moisture. "You've seen this before," he said. "Fold them behind you."

  Swallowing hard, I did as I was told, laying one forearm against the other, and he bound them together, tying the rope around and around me in loops until my back arched. The ropes tied my breasts down, making them bulge, and I was utterly immobilized from the waist up.

  "On your knees," Anton said.

  Shakily, I lowered myself to the ground, my balance gone now that my upper body had been bound. I knelt on the floor as Anton's hand drifted over his erection, still hidden in his trousers. Lazily, he undid the button, and the slice of the zipper coming undone scraped over my ears, sending shivers up and down my spine. Reaching inside his pants, Anton pulled his cock out.

  It was huge. Bigger than I remembered, and hard as an iron bar, jutting out to meet me. I licked my lips as Anton stepped forward.

  "Suck it," he told me.

  I opened my mouth and placed it around his rod, closing my eyes in relief. He tasted good, hot and hard and heavy against my tongue, the sweet musk of his skin filling my nose. Pressing my lips around the head, I pushed forward and took as much of it as I could inside my mouth. Then I swallowed and gave it a long, slow suck.

  In front of me, Anton swayed on his feet, the sensation of my lips on his cock too much for him. He'd missed me as much as I'd missed him, and he confirmed my suspicions with a groan that sounded like it had been dredged up from the depths of his belly. I pressed forward again and again, swallowing his cock, hard and forceful, as though I could pull the skin off with just the strength of my mouth, and Anton trembled with each slow, torturous suck.

  His hands wove into my hair, pulling it back from my cheeks and holding my head still as he began to thrust his hips into my face. His cock slid down my throat, and it felt good, filling up the emptiness that had lived in me the month I had been gone. I trembled on my knees, knowing I was at his mercy, but instead of the thread of fear that had underpinned all our encounters so far, I felt safe. Warm and free, able to let myself go. I closed my eyes and reveled in the feel of his cock thrusting into my mouth. My breasts, bound with rope, bounced with his movements, and my pussy was hot and ready, my clit standing at attention and just begging to be played with.

  Abruptly he pulled away and ran his hands through my hair, a soothing gesture turned erotic as he stroked his saliva-wet cock against my cheek, let the soft head caress my lips. Eagerly I opened my mouth for more, but he twisted, denying me, and I couldn't help but feel both disappointed and hopeful. My heart fluttered in my chest like a trapped butterfly.

  “Stand,” he said.

  Dizzy with desire, I climbed to my feet, far more difficult than kneeling down, and I stumbled. Anton reached out and caught me, and the feel of his large, warm hands supporting me filled me with a strange tenderness I couldn't describe. I swallowed and stood on my own two feet, and his hands fell away.

  For a long moment, he took me in, standing bound before him. Then he stepped in and placed a sweet kiss at the center of my forehead. I closed my eyes.

  Gently he turned me around and guided me back to the bed, helping me climb on. The rope chafed against my skin, rubbing over my pussy lips as I walked, and when at last he pushed me down on my knees and face, exposing my pussy to him, I wanted to cry with need. My neglected cunt ached for him, and I quivered in anticipation of his entrance.

  But he didn't.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured from behind me. I heard his clothes rustle, and I peeked between my legs to see him kneeling on the floor so his face was inches from my pulsing pussy. It was the middle of the afternoon, and there was no darkness for me to hide in. I was completely exposed.

  Abruptly he stood and rounded the bed, coming to the other side, shedding clothes as he did so. When at last he climbed into the bed and joined me he was completely nude. I itched to touch his heated skin, run my fingers over him, but he knew his stuff. The more I tugged at my bonds, the tighter they held.

  He settled down on the bed next to me and began to run his hands over my skin. I sighed and squirmed under his touch as he stroked his fingertips down my back, over my arms, dipping over the curve of my waist to brush against my stomach.

  “Do you have any fantasies, Felicia?” he asked me.

  I blinked, too desire-drugged to make sense of what he was asking me. “What?” I said.

  He smiled, a real, genuine smile. “Are there any fantasies you have?” he asked again. “Anything you would like for me to make come true?”

  I bit my lip and tried to think through the pounding of blood in my head. What did I truly desire with Anton? What did I truly want him to do to me?

  I shook my head. “I have no fantasies,” I said. “I'm just happy to be here.” And I smiled at myself, at my own need. How little it took to make me happy. I just wanted to be with him, to grow with him.

  For a long moment he said nothing, merely played idly with my nipples, gently stoking the fire inside my belly as he let his hand wander where it would. I wondered if he were trying to get me to fill up the silence, as if he thought I had been hiding something, but it had been true. Besides, Anton was way better at dreaming up new things to do than I was. I waited patiently for him to use me for his pleasure.

  “Sit up,” he said at last, withdrawing his hand. I did so, struggling back onto my knees without the help of my bound hands. Between my legs, my pussy was soaking wet, hot and sticky. I surreptitiously rubbed it over my heels, which did nothing to ease my almost-painful arousal and only got my feet sticky as well as the inside of my thighs.

  Anton rose to his knees, running his hands over my body. Gently he tugged at the ropes binding me. No matter where he plucked, every other place where the ropes touched my skin became erotically charged. He manipulated me like a marionette, and by the time he untied the securing knot and slid the ropes from me I was panting and painfully aroused. Ropes snaked over my skin as he untied me, until I was free and wild.

  Reaching out, Anton slid his arms around me and pulled me close. His skin on mine electrified me, and when his cock probed my belly I thought I would collapse. Softly, he kissed me, first on the forehead, then the cheeks and finally on my lips, a gentle, nibbling caress. His huge warm hands spread out over my back, pulling me close. My breasts rubbed over his chest, my nipples points of fire as I wrapped my arms around his neck and moved my body against his, restless and needy.

  Abruptly he pulled back and lay down on the bed, stretching his arms over his head, laying his magnificent body out before me like a banquet. The hard planes and sharp valleys invited my fingers, called to my mouth. I wanted to taste every inch of him. His cock jutted up from his crotch, his balls high and tight, as though he were about to come at any second.

  “Fuck me, Felicia,” he said.

  I stared at him. Did... did he mean it?

  “You... you'd be all right with that?” I asked him. He would truly give me control?

  His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and I could see how difficu
lt this was, but he remained immobile, spread out against the sheets. His breath came hard and fast. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “Fuck me, Felicia. Climb on top of me and use me. I want to see you come as you ride me.”

  Oh my god, I thought. I'd never been in charge. Only a few times had I stolen control from him, and he'd never reacted well.

  “Trixie,” I said.

  He blinked. “What?” he said.

  “Trixie. Our safeword.”

  Anton frowned, puzzled. He hesitated for a second. “Why? Are you... are you not comfortable taking control?”

  I sat down next to him. “I want to make sure you are. And I really mean it. You don't...” I waved my hand. “You don't have to do this.”

  His shoulders, tense, relaxed almost imperceptibly. Reaching out, he cupped my face in his hand, running his fingers over my throat, smoothing his thumb against my jaw. The gesture was so tender, so sweet... it summoned a tightness in my chest and a lump in my throat.

  Don't cry, you big sop, I told myself. There are probably few bigger turnoffs than a crying wife. I mean... someone's into it, I'm sure, but I didn't want to risk it. I touched his hand with mine, warmth spreading out over my skin. “Are you sure?”

  That faint Buddha smile again, but this time I knew it was genuine. “I trust you,” he said.

  My heart cracked a bit, sending something sweet and sad through me, but I shoved it away. This was it. This would make or break us.

  I swung my leg over him and straddled his thighs. Between my legs his cock stood straight and straining, pulsing slightly with the beat of his heart. I reached out and ran my fingers over it, feeling the velvety skin slide over the steel hidden inside. He hissed between his teeth, his hips jerking a little, but he held still. Leaning down, I put my lips to his cock and bathed it with my tongue.