seconds, savoring her hot grip, the way it sends shock waves of lust pounding through me. Inhaling sharply, I let breath flood my body as desire washes over me.
I’m going to fuck her hard.
This is what my woman has been missing, and I’m going to give it all to her.
I take her words at face value, holding nothing back. I keep one hand on her shoulder blades, making sure she’s near the floor. As I drive into her, I draw out her moans and groans and wild sounds of ecstasy.
But that’s not enough. She wants to be marked. She wants to feel this for days. I take my hand off her shoulder blades and grip her hips, digging my fingers in, leaving marks. “You want bruise marks?”
“I do. I do,” she says, gasping and writhing as she thrusts her hips back onto my cock, fucking against me as I fuck into her. I reach around to her tits, grasping them, gripping them so damn hard in my hands.
I swear I can feel her pussy grow wetter as I punish her tits, squeezing so hard they’ll be bruised tomorrow.
I let go and return to abusing her ass, smacking her over and over again. Her sounds are the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard as she chases wild pleasure. As she seeks out the kind of bliss she’s evidently never had before. As she learns exactly what it’s like to be taken by a man who’s consumed by her.
As her moans grow louder, the pleasure in me spirals higher, gathering in the base of my spine. When I can tell she’s near the edge, I band an arm tight around her waist, play with her clit, and coax an epic orgasm out of her.
Her sounds are delirious notes of bliss.
Seconds later, my own climax throttles me, blotting out anything, everything, as I come hard, so damn hard inside her.
I want to collapse on her. Fall on top of her. But first, I pull out, remove the condom, and toss it into the bin. Gently, I take off her shoes then lift her up, carry her to the bathroom, and turn on the shower.
“Let me clean you up. Let me look at all the places where you’re going to be marked tomorrow,” I say.
She simply nods, looking drugged out, blissed out, as I wash her tenderly in the shower. She murmurs then smiles. “I’m so hungry.”
I laugh. “Then I better feed my naughty wife dinner before I feed her my cock again.”
“That sounds like a perfect evening.”
The only thing that’s not so perfect is when she runs her finger across my hand, across my scar, and I can tell, I can absolutely tell, that soon she’s going to want to know all the things I don’t share.
All the things I keep locked up.
But maybe, for the first time, I want her to know.
Some of them, at least.
18
Scarlett
A message blinks at me in the morning.
I picture it tapping its toe, checking its wristwatch, huffing and puffing, saying, “I’m waiting.”
It can only be Nadia.
With my body deliciously sore, I slide open the message.
* * *
Nadia: Where is my report? I WANT IT NOW!
* * *
I laugh quietly from under the covers, the handsome man I spent the night with sound asleep on his stomach.
In our honeymoon suite.
My life is indeed a theater. And I love playing this part.
I read the next text.
* * *
Nadia: I can only conclude either you endured a horrible injury from the sapphire heels, which you damn well better be wearing, or you suffered a sex injury. Did you break your vagina? Is it in a cast? A sling? A splint? Sidenote: do they make vaginal splints?
* * *
A laugh bursts from me, but I quiet it quickly so I don’t wake my companion. I tap out a reply.
* * *
Scarlett: New market opportunity—vaginal splints for over-sexing. Fortunately, I’m simply in my bed as a result of a condition known as orgasm excessia.
* * *
Nadia: Too many orgasms. I’d like to catch that one. Give me the details now.
* * *
Scarlett: I hardly know where to begin except . . . you were right.
* * *
Nadia: Always a good start to any story. I take it you indulged in the wigs and a little role-play?
* * *
Scarlett: Yes! I had no idea that would unleash everything so quickly. But it did. I swear, as soon as I saw him at the train station, and I was dressed as a redhead in