CHAPTER FOUR

She’s sweet and flustered as we put the horses away. She always is Sunday nights—she knows what happens when I get her up to our room. I watch her from the corner of my eye. Noting the flush of her cheeks and the way she works her lower lip with her teeth.

The way she looks everywhere, but at me.

I send her inside and finish locking up the barn. When I’m done, I move slowly through the house and lock the windows and doors. Mostly to give her time to get ready for me.

Then, I head upstairs.

The door to our bedroom is ajar. On the far, opposite side of the hall is Cash’s room. The house has thick walls and noise doesn’t travel from one side to the other. Still, I make sure to shut our door and lock it firmly.

My breath catches as my eyes fall on my wife. She’s on her knees at the end of the bed.

Beautiful, curvy body in a little, lace thing. The kind I have to work not to tear with the calluses on my palms. My leather collar sits around her neck, her red hair spilling over her back and shoulders. Her palms are open and laid out on her thighs and her eyes are lowered.

I go to her and rest my fingertips on the top of her head. She keeps still while I stroke her hair. Then I tap her head twice and she releases her perfect posture, leaning into my leg. Trustingly, she rubs her cheek against my thigh.

“You stay here while I shower, redbird,” I tell her.

“Yes, sir.”

This is the part she loves most. The waiting. The anticipation of knowing what’s coming, but not when. The part that gets her so wet it leaves glittering arousal on the floor between her knees.

I take my time. Instead of putting on my sweats, I opt for my good pants and shirt. She loves it when I punish her while still fully dressed.

I push the bathroom door open and lean in the doorway. Her head stays down.

“How were you this week?”

She bites her lip, working it. “I think…good, sir.”

“You think? Either you were or you weren’t.”

She squirms. “I was.”

I cross the room and take the leather strip with the implements inside from the dresser. We’ve added a few things here and there, namely a riding crop that she loves. It cracks like a gunshot, but never breaks her delicate skin. It only leaves little pink marks over her soft, round ass and thighs.

A quiver moves through her when I touch the looped end between her breasts. And drag it up to her chin and use it to lift her eyes to mine.

They’re wide and deep blue. So sweet.

“Where do you want it, redbird?” I ask.

She gasps as the looped end trails back down her neck. Over her stomach and between her thighs. I trace the wet seam of her pussy, back and forth.

“Focus,” I say.

“Um, in the chair,” she whispers. “Sir.”

“Good girl,” I praise. “How?”

Her tongue darts out to wet her mouth. “Over your lap, sir.”

Her cheeks are rosy pink. Her eyes glitter like she’s burning with fever. I trail the crop over her clit, making close circles. Her hips quiver and I know how badly she wants to grind up against the leather.

But she won’t without permission. She’s too well trained for that.

I flick my wrist. The whip cracks over the entrance of her pussy and she cries out softly as it stings her sensitive sex. Her hands clench and fall open again. Fingertips quivering.

“Let’s talk,” I say.

She swallows. This is the part she struggles with most. I sit in my leather armchair in the far corner. The crop goes on the table beside me and I spread my knees, giving her enough space to kneel between them.

“Unhook your collar,” I say. “Crawl to me.”

She obeys, shaking fingers disconnecting the leash. Then she leans down onto her hands and knees, big eyes fixed on me, and moves across the bedroom floor. Round ass and perfect hips swaying.

I point at the ground. She settles herself between my knees and lays her cheek against my thigh.

“Talk to me,” I say.

Her lids flutter when I stroke through her hair and I see her focus waver. This is the part I love most—watching her struggle to be patient and obey when all she wants is to be filled. She’s so ready to be fucked, but we have to move through each step before our ritual is complete.

It’s an exercise in denial for us both.

“What do I say?” she murmurs.

“How did you feel about this week?” I press. “Just about the parts between us.”

She sighs. “I loved it, sir.”

“That’s all.”

She nods. “You know me before I even know myself.”

I tilt her chin up and her eyes are hazy. “And you feel safe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What about the other night?”

I see her mind flit back. The other night, I was out late checking the fences. When I returned, she was already asleep. Curled up on her side of the bed, nothing showing but her red hair. I pulled the covers back and it hit me that this was my wife. The way it sometimes does when she’s doing ordinary things.

Suddenly I saw every inch of her in detail. Her soft, curvy body. The delicate marks across her lower stomach from her pregnancy. Narrow waist, full hips and thighs.

She’s so soft and sweet.

My wife. My woman.

And it roused a feral part of me I couldn’t hold back.

She woke with a gasp as I sank between her thighs and into her soft pussy. Not giving her time to adjust, forcing her to take the pleasure and pain all at once, like a shot of neat whiskey. She gave in, because of course she did. And I fucked her like it was the first time we touched all over again.

Bed striking the wall. Floor shaking.

Leaving us battered and bruised when the storm was over.

I pull myself back from that memory. She’s blushing, pressing her forehead into my thigh to hide her face.

“Answer me, redbird,” I order.

She drags her eyes up to mine, big and glittering in the low light. “Yes, sir, even the other night I felt safe.”

I lift her onto my lap, parting her thighs. “Good, is there anything else?”

She shakes her head. “No, this week was good.”

It was, but I still have to check in with her and give her a safe place to speak up. It’s my responsibility as her Dom to ensure she feels heard.

Now that I know she does, we can move on. We won’t review her behavior tonight. I correct her instantly when she steps out of line so she never has to wait and suffer unnecessarily.

Tonight is for pleasure. To remind us where we stand with each other.

“Get up,” I tell her.

She obeys, climbing off my lap.

“Clothes off.”

She does as she’s told, stripping until her slip and panties are in her hands. I jerk my head to the chair and she goes, folding her things neatly and setting them aside. Her eyes dart up, glittering with sweet shame.

I beckon her to me.

This is when her steps lag. When she knows what comes next, and no matter how many times we’ve done this, it still gives her a thrill of fear.

I know that soft paradise between her thighs is soaked.

I lean back, spreading my knees. Her hands twist together as she approaches. She’s flushed and flustered and I like seeing her broken down. I like shattering her, tasting her vulnerability.

And I love putting her back together when we’re done.

“Over my knee, redbird,” I say.

She obeys, draping her breathtaking body across my lap. Her ass is soft and my fingers dig into the curves of it. Running over and over the swells to bring the blood to the surface and get it moving.

My cock thrums, so hard it hurts, pushing up against her belly.

“This isn’t because you’ve done anything wrong,” I say. “This is to remind you of what you are to me, redbird.”

“I understand, sir,” she gasps.

“And who I am to you.”

“Yes, sir.”

I strike her lightly first, leaving fingerprints where her thigh meets her ass. She keeps quiet. I spank her again, harder. Then I push her right thigh to the side until it’s slightly cocked so it spreads and exposes her swollen pussy.

It’s flushed pink and slick with arousal. It always is after we’ve moved through our rituals. Her body knows what comes next and it’s ready for me.

Using my finger and thumb, I spread her sex open. She quivers as I dip my fingertip inside to check how wet she is, so I can compare when I’m done.

“Clench,” I order.

She obeys, the muscles of her pussy tightening and loosening. I withdraw and put my finger to my lips. Sometimes I swear I can taste her lust, laced like a drug through her wet arousal.

A tremor moves down her thigh. She’s having trouble waiting.

Taking mercy on her, I spank her lightly twice. Both sides so I can watch her skin redden at the same time. After moving through so many Sunday nights with her, I’ve started noticing the tiny details.

The seconds between her breaths.

The difference between a tremor of anticipation and a tremor of impending orgasm.

The white of her knuckles when she feels pain versus pleasure.

There are so many shades to my redbird. And they all spill out, bringing life to my world in and out of our bedroom.

She moans and I spank her again, this time harder. Her lungs heave, but she keeps still. She’s been trained for this and she knows my expectations.

I feel a ripple of resistance and I spank her again, hard enough to send vibrations deep into her core. Then twice more, until she whimpers. The resistance breaks down and she eases into me, soft body going softer still.

I love this moment.

She shudders and lets out a little sob. Her tears are silent, but I feel them fall on my arm and thigh. She can safeword me if she wants, but she won’t. The euphoric high she gets from crying in the safety of my arms is too great.

Gently, I slide my other arm under her body, down between her breasts. Easing it between our bodies until I find her clit. Her hips jump at the contact. I know my fingers are rough, but she’s wet and she can take it.

“Moan for me, redbird,” I urge.

She whimpers, her breaths quick and close. My hand comes down on her ass, right where it meets her thigh. Right where she’s so sensitive.

I glance down. Her bare feet are braced on the floor.

Then one lifts, toes curling.

She’s going to come.

Quick as a flash, I stop everything and she wails in protest, devastated. I flip her in my arms so she’s on her knees in my lap and brush her hair back. Her breasts heave, her nipples hard and flushed.

“What did I do wrong?” she gasps.

I shake my head. “Nothing. You’re perfect. But you have to wait until I let you finish. And you know that.”

She bites her lip. I take her chin in my fingers and lift her face up.

“You know that, don’t you, redbird?”

She nods, knowing better than to protest. I move my hand from her face to her throat and kiss her mouth, tasting the salt of her tears. Her hips grind, mindlessly. With my mouth on hers, I reach over to the table at my side and flip the lid of the box we keep there. She tenses as I take out a little bottle and rub lube over her asshole.

A moan works its way up. I reach back into the box.

I feel the smooth, cool metal of the plug. My hand slides from her throat and down to her waist to keep her still. My other hand takes the little plug and runs it from her clit to her asshole. Gathering her silky wetness.

She breaks from my mouth, eyes glazed and breasts heaving. I press the metal tip against her flesh and she moans, her head falling back. The first time we did this, she clenched. But now she stays relaxed and her body takes it as I slip the cool metal into her ass. Fitting it in place.

She twists. Lips parting, hair falling over her breasts.

“Good fucking girl,” I pant.

She pushes her face into my chest. Shuddering.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir.” Her voice is muffled.

I lift her in my arms and spill her out onto the bed. On her knees, facing the headboard. Her brilliant hair tumbles down her back. Her round ass is flushed pink, her thighs are marked with little stripes from the crop.

I start unbuttoning my shirt. We’re so close to breaking. I need the sweet rush of her release, to taste her tears on her mouth.

There’s nothing like fucking her when her walls are down.