Sleeves

by Chanse Lowell

  How many times would he have to do this kind of thing to stop imagining the horrors they went through in their cages at Hannah’s house of torture?

  It would strike him at odd intervals. Therapy was good today, though.

  He tore off her bra and that small, sexy skirt of hers. His jeans were yanked off right after, along with his boxer briefs.

  The moment he penetrated her, she rasped a throaty, “Kel, God, you’re so big tonight—you were so hot for me.”

  Her head hung off the edge of the bed.

  His fingers found her nipples, tugged to the rhythm of his pumping hips.

  “It’s not gonna take me long, bitch. You better get there quick. I’m not waiting,” he warned, his jaw flexing along with his hips.

  She was burning him all over his body, but less than normal, so he didn’t care. He fucking loved it.

  Shoulda brought that wine bottle with him.

  Like clockwork, she reached on the ground past her head, found the bucket of ice she always had in here, ready to go, and grabbed an ice cube.

  She ran it over his shoulders.

  He extended his tongue, and she let it roam there, too.

  He used his icy tongue to wet her nipples one at a time, and when his chest went over them, he grinned wickedly.

  “Feel good?” she asked.

  “Fucking amazing.” He bit at her neck, and she convulsed right then, her pussy rippling along his cock.

  He felt the first rushes of her squirting cunt, drenching his thighs, and his come launched out of him in spastic spurts.

  “God, you’re mine! Finally!” He gripped her at the hips and rammed himself in as far as he could go while he emptied into her with little jabs of torturous bliss.

  When his heart slowed and his hands went lax, she smiled and sighed.

  “We’ve been married for almost a year, silly.”

  “I know, but this is when you’re all mine. Not out helping save every broken kid you can find.” He kissed her gently; settled his weight onto her.

  The burn had been dulled down.

  “What did Dr. Edmunds say today at your therapy session?”

  He sighed and rolled his hips for a second, just to annoy the shit out of her. “What—you didn’t call and ask him yourself like you usually do?”

  “Didn’t have time—Peanut was waiting for me to pick him up for Mom and Tot yoga. I told you—today was our first class together.”

  His eyes lit up. “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

  She smacked his arm. “Quit deflecting.”

  “I wanna know.” He sat up a little and rubbed his arm, pretending like she’d hurt him.

  “It was fabulous.” She took his hand and settled it over her belly. “And I’m ovulating today, so maybe . . .”

  “Oh, God, making me hard again, woman. How many peanuts do you wanna have? ‘Cause you know my dick’s up for the job.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, definitely not a problem there.”

  So many cycles lately without any ovulation happening. This was definitely good news.

  He pulled her into his chest, and she draped her arm over his shoulder.

  “How’re you feeling then? I probably shouldn’t’ve been so harsh with you out there with the flogger. I didn’t know.” His chest ached at the thought of truly harming her. He was nauseous already just thinking about how rough he’d been.

  “Are you kidding me? I was about to come in front of everyone, and you know I don’t really like doing that. It makes me more hesitant next time. I worry they’ll recognize me based on the sounds I make when I’m orgasming.”

  “We can always use the hood next time,” he said. “I’m sure everyone’s figured out it’s you every time, and this is our little ‘Where’s Casey’ game we play. Who the fuck cares? They love it. I think they all wonder if one day I’ll mess up and pick some other random bitch. I’m surprised they all haven’t started showing up with contacts the color of your eyes, and your natural hair style.”

  She tickled her fingers across his chest. “They wouldn’t know what my hair looks like. I always have it up in a wig.”

  “Yeah, no more blonde ones. So, I guess I shouldn’t complain about the black one tonight.”

  “Hannah’s gone, hon. Time to stop worrying about her coming back to nab you.”

  “I swear, every time I see hair her color in the audience, my nuts try to detach and run away. Crazy bitch gives me nightmares.”

  She cleared her throat. “Exactly—so tell me what our therapist said.” She plucked at his nipple.

  “Edmunds said that the reason it hurts when anyone touches me is because they’d hypnotized me and pretty much brain washed me that it would hurt. They did it because I wanted touch so badly. I think he said the memory he uncovered in my trauma therapy today was that Hannah told me once when I was drugged and half out of it, that she was trying to spare me. She knew I was in pain from not being touched, so she thought this would work to quell that desire. They’d conditioned me to think I’d hurt anyone that didn’t have the serum in them, so once I thought you had that shit in your veins, it stopped hurting. It’ll take time to recondition my mind so it stops hurting altogether, but we’re getting there. I was able to be touched in Edmund’s office and it didn’t burn or sting.” He sighed. “Hannah really did tell the truth. All of it. He found tons of memories of her telling me about my mother, and what was going on, how Hannah was trying to free me and Peanut. She really did care in her odd, twisted way.”

  Casey sighed and then tipped her head back. She kissed his jaw. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you’d hoped she was a liar.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and pulled her in for a heavier kiss. “We still don’t have answers for why she and my mom stopped aging when they were pumped full of that serum, and why mine is accelerated. I have no idea how long of a life-expectancy I have.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” she said, eyes sympathetic.

  “Oh, and you know how we both wondered why the pain would stop from you touching me after we make love?”

  “Yeah?” She blinked and stared at him.

  “The only thing Edmunds said was it was because in those moments, when I was most vulnerable, you showed me love and tenderness and he said it was something about a primitive part of the brain taking over with a rush of endorphins that temporarily let my brain go fuzzy and forget the information they’d programmed into my head by brainwashing me.”

  “You mean I’m not magic?” She smiled.

  “You are to me.”

  “See—you really are going to be okay.” She gave him a hopeful look. One that said she still wanted to take that damned serum again.

  “Yeah . . .” He looked away from her eyes.

  She was enthusiastic with her kisses, and the emotions of sorrow for his pain, rolled off her in sweeping waves.

  He absorbed her love with gratitude.

  His phone buzzed in his jeans on the ground.

  “Uuungh! Already? We’ve barely been here thirty minutes,” he groaned, reaching for it.

  He grasped at his pants, yanked the fucker out and she plucked the phone out of his grasp. “Is the baby okay?” was her greeting.

  He grunted and then laughed when she pinched his thigh.

  “He’s fine. Braden can go at least forty minutes before he needs the tit again,” Kel said.

  She glared at him and made a slashing motion across her neck so he’d quit talking with such crude language.

  “Yeah, our date’s pretty much over. We’ll be right home,” she said and ended the call.

  “What the hell? You know Jana still thinks you’re an ass. You’ve gotta quit ta—”

  “She loves me. It’s your perception that she dislikes the way I talk.” He heaved himself up to sitting.

  She was already out of the bed, fetching the cleaning cloth and mopping herself up.

  He reached for her, hoping to get one last grope in, but she was
so used to his antics, she dodged him and was slipping back into her clothes. Her regular clothes she’d arrived in, not the schoolgirl outfit that had him hard the second he saw her in it.

  “You ready?” she teased, pretending to scowl at him.

  Her hands were in his jeans pocket, digging out the keys to the motorcycle.

  She slipped her shoes on.

  “I’m driving—don’t you even think about it, bitch,” he barked.

  “Yeah? Then move your ass, old man.”

  “I’m still younger than you,” he stated, pulling his jeans on and tugging his shirt over his swollen head. She made him feel like he was the king of all dicks when they had nights like this.

  “Still aging twice as fast as the rest of us, though.” Her face dropped a little when she must’ve realized how cruel that sounded. “Oh, God, I’m sorry . . . And you just said . . . I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  He was in her face two seconds later, cupping her cheeks. “Hey, you know I’m not sensitive about that shit. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I know, but you still don’t want me to re-take the serum. I can’t change your mind, you stubborn man.” She shook her head and it was like it shook tears straight into her eyes because they were all watery again when she looked at him.

  “Definitely not doing it now.” He dropped a hand and spread his fingers out across her lower belly. “I probably just knocked you up.”

  “I’m sure you did, but maybe after this time?”

  He grinned and shook his head again. “Not happening. My wife’s gonna live her life the way she was meant to—natural time line. No one worrying about if you’ll age faster or stop altogether.”

  “But both our peanuts—Robbie and Braden are like you. I mean, Braden’s almost seven months, and he’s running around already and acting like he’ll be doing calculus soon. I’ll be homeschooling them in the near future and quitting my new job soon anyway. They hired me on temporarily. What’s the harm in me joining our boys?”

  He rolled his fingers up her body then stroked the back of his hands across her breasts.

  “You could possibly die sooner. And don’t say the evidence points to the contrary because of my mom. I can’t stand the thought of you aging faster and possibly living half a life time if we’re wrong,” he said, his voice tight.

  “But you’re working for them now . . .”

  He smiled. So feisty—never backing down. “Yeah, I know. I’ve got free access for my family to both the serum and the cure I created. I’m working on other mutated versions of both now since they’re anticipating that the formula was leaked and other people have gotten ahold of it. When the day comes, I’ll be ready to put those people out of business.” He kissed her softly at the corner of her mouth.

  “Oh, fine—convince me with your kisses—bastard.” She frowned.

  He laughed. “Is there any other way I operate?”

  “No, Agent Liam, it’s the only way you operate with me—dirty and with an unfair advantage.” She stroked his flaccid dick through his pants.

  “I thought we were racing home so you could nurse our chubkins?”

  “Peanut’s fine. I need you to think about it—honestly consider what I’d ever do without you? If you passed away in the next twenty years from advanced old age and I was barely forty . . . The kids would be full grown by then, and—”

  He covered her lips with his extended finger. “Babe, I need you to stop.” He gave her a reprimanding look. “Because I’ve got a cure almost completed for both them and me; I already know it’s gonna work.”

  Her eyes went wide and then she blinked slowly. She swallowed hard.

  “Wanna know how I know? He flashed, his teeth at her with his wide-spread smile.

  She nodded with a tiny dip of her head.

  “I took a tiny portion of the prototype today, and look at what I found,” he tipped his head down.

  The few stray gray hairs she’d found two weeks ago were gone. He’d had his lab assistant look for them over and over. Nothing there.

  He was twenty-one, not forty-two, and he’d remain in her life until they were both progressing with age at the standard rate, breaking hips from him being a horny prick and mounting her by climbing over her walker.

  “I love you, and I won’t change you. You don’t have to.” He beamed at her.

  She sighed and then wore this odd, gloating look. “I know—I asked Hanford what you were doing, and he said some bullshit about classified and blah, blah, blah, my husband’s a genius, and oh, all right, he’s found a cure for himself, and he took it today.” She chuckled. “Does that man ever shut up? I couldn’t call Edmunds. Didn’t have time since Hanford took all of it. He needs to build you a fan club, since he’s the president of it already.”

  He gasped and sputtered on his exasperated breath. “Bitch—it is classified. How did you get it out of him?”

  “I just told him I would hold you hostage and never get dressed again so you wouldn’t be able to drag your butt into work, and he spilled. It wasn’t hard; he was dying to tell me.” She grinned, dangled the motorcycle keys in front of his eyes, then added, “And I’m driving, bitch. It’s my damned bike.”

  She was out of the room, and he was chasing her out the back door of the club, but couldn’t catch up. Not when she was always a step ahead, his mind caught up in cages of various sorts. Cages that all involved her, and the things he wanted to do his gorgeous, brilliant wife.

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  Author Bio:

  Chanse Lowell grew up in the desert southwest and still lives there with her husband, children, and pet cactus. She’s addicted to three things: reading erotica, writing erotica and sandwiches with a side of erotica to aid with digestion. She grew up watching programs with science fiction and historical fiction themes, and is determined she can combine her three favorite genres, creating a new breed of novel with scifi, historical and smut sandwiched in the middle.

  The last thing she ever thought she’d do was pursue her dream to be a writer since her family tends to keep her busy. When she was introduced to fan fiction, she realized she wanted to see more science fiction and historical fiction to fill in the gap with lots of naughtiness thrown in, of course. Her true passion is creating her own worlds from scratch, letting her imagination go and take her to another place.

  She has two novels coming out soon, Sleeves a science fiction erotica and Knots, a contemporary BDSM that shows the softer, tender side of a Dom/sub relationship. Having recently entered the lifestyle and discovering she’s a submissive herself has opened her eyes to how few stories there are exploring the softer side of the lifestyle. She enjoys chatting online with others with similar kinky interests and has advisers in the lifestyle that help make sure her stories remain true and don’t veer off into outer space. Although aliens probably enjoy kink, too, since they like to dress in rubber fetish-wear while traveling. At least that’s her argument for why her new genre she’s created is valid.