Chapter 54

Quentin

We meet in the middle, and my mouth is on hers, my tongue between her lips. My palms on her hips, slipping down to cup her fleshy butt cheeks and squeezing with enough force that she gasps. I swallow the sound, pulling her closer on her tiptoes, bending my knees enough that my arousal is cradled in the hollow between her legs. I feel myself throb and lengthen and thicken, my cock straining against my pants to be inside her.

She holds onto my biceps, her mouth open, her legs wide apart to accommodate my hips. She's so sweet to taste, so firm and soft and sexy, all at once, in my arms, so perfect, my wife. So beautiful and gorgeous and mine in a way words cannot describe. There's only this effervescent feeling where my heart once was—a confluence of emotion and seething need, and an affection and devotion that overpowers everything else.

She groans into my mouth, and the sound is beautiful and real and anchors me to the present. I soften the kiss. Lick her lips, kiss her chin, her nose, both of her closed eyelids. I brush my mouth across her temple, to her earlobe, which I tug on gently.

She shivers, melts further into me. "Command me," she whispers. "Take me, break me, hurt me. I want you to… show me how much you love me."

When I hesitate, she flutters open her heavy eyelids. "Please, please, Q, I beg you. I want this."

And I'm unable to give in to the desire that strains my ribcage and weighs down my balls like iron weights. Somehow, the fact that I love her, that my heart beats only for her, that every breath I take is to please her, that my purpose of living is to ensure her happiness, has shifted something inside me. I want her, but her pleasure always comes first.

She must read my thoughts for she slides her hand down to cup my crotch. The growl vibrates up my chest unbidden, and a tiny smile curves her lips.

"In Boogie Nights, Mark Wahlberg played a porn star called Dirk Diggler whose penis size is thirteen inches," she murmurs. "You, my husband, would give him serious competition." She squeezes the bulge at my crotch, and I exhale a sharp breath.

"Is that your way of saying, I'm virile enough for you?"

"Especially when you use your Dom voice to command me. On the other hand—" She sinks to her knees so suddenly; the movement breaks my hold on her.

She unhooks my belt and has my zip lowered and cock out so quickly, my body turns into a furnace.

"Raven, fuck"—I allow myself a groan—"you're killing me, baby."

"I want to do this, please." Her gaze turns beseeching, "Please, please, Q."

"You beg so prettily." I cup her cheek.

Her flush deepens.

"You know I love you, baby."

She nods.

"And I've promised to discuss all the big decisions in my life with you before I take them."

Her forehead furrows. She glances down at my cock, and her breathing grows erratic. "Yes, yes, I know. But right now, I want your cock." She reaches for it, but I bat her hand aside.

"I decide when you get to touch me; never forget that. I decide when you get to come. I decide how many orgasms you get. I decide which hole of yours I take for my pleasure; never forget that. I also decide the punishment for your transgressions."

Her lips part, and she pants a little. "Trans...transgressions?" Her gaze widens, partly in fear, partly in anticipation. I continue to glare at her, and she flushes further. Then lowers her eyes.

"Does the thought of being disciplined turn you on, Raven?"

She nods, without raising her eyes. "Yes, yes it does," she says in a small voice.

When I glare at her, she shivers. "I mean, yes, Sir, it does."

"Good girl."

She shivers.

"Earlier, you challenged my decision of stepping down as CEO, and while I'm happy for my wife to do that, and I'm happy to explain myself to her, as my sub, I expect you to pay for your defiance."

A low sound emerges from her lips.

"What do you say?"

"Yes Sir. I understand, Sir." Her words are out even before I complete my sentence.

"Such an eager little Raven."

Her shoulders shudder. Her chest rises and falls. "Sir, please, please, please, I need you." She squeezes her thighs together. "Please, Sir."

"And I want you to have this. Open your mouth."

She shivers and instantly complies. I dig my fingers into her hair and tug so she has to lean her head back. My movements are assertive but I also make sure my hold is soft enough not to hurt her. "I should be taking your smallest tightest hole and making you wait for your orgasm but since time is short, this will have to do. Nod if you understand."

She jerks her chin.

I balance my cock between her lips. "Take me all the way down." I punch forward and slide down the back of her throat. The heat, the wetness, the tightness… It radiates vibrations of pleasure all the way to my brain and down to my feet. My knees tremble—they fucking tremble. "You okay, baby?"

She makes an incomprehensible noise, which judders across my sensitive crown.

"Are you wet?"

She nods, and I pull out, allowing her to breathe, then piston forward and down her throat again. This time, I go deeper, and when she swallows around my shaft, my attention drops to where we're connected.

I grab her arms and position her hands behind her neck, as if she's under arrest, as if her entire purpose in life is to be a willing hole for my cock.

It seems to arouse her further, for her gaze widens, and her breathing grows harsher. She looks at me, a beseeching look in those big green eyes, and I understand her agony.

"Your orgasms are mine, Raven. Understand?"

She manages to jerk her chin, and my groin tightens. My thighs seem to have turned into steel. And when she flattens her tongue against my dick, then grazes her teeth against the skin, I react without conscious thought.

I twist her hair around my palm with enough force that goosebumps pop on her forearms. I hold her in place and begin to fuck her mouth. Once, twice, and when tears slip out of the corner of her eyes and saliva drools down her chin, I can't hold back anymore. I pull out of her, then haul her to her feet. I kiss her deeply, tasting myself on her sweet lips, and fuck, if that doesn't turn me into a possessive, carnal being who's only raison d'être is to bring her fulfillment. I undo the buttons at the waistband of her shorts, then dig my fingers into the crotch of her tights. I tug, and the material tears. She gasps, and when I thrust two fingers inside her sopping wet cunt, her back bows, and her chest heaves. She lets out a low keening cry and begins to flutter around me. I know she's close, but she's not ready to orgasm. Not until I take her to the edge and pull her back, so she when she does, it'll grant her the kind of pleasure she'll have trouble forgetting.

She cries out, I grip her jaw. "Not yet. You orgasm when I tell you, and not a second earlier, you hear me?"