Page 44 of Provoked

I may need to acquire a new suitcase before we head home, but that’s a problem for another day. The attached bathroom has forest green walls and white porcelain throughout. It’s beyond elegant in its very simplicity. While the bathtub fills, I sniff each of the pots of bath salts arranged on a small shelf before tossing in a handful of jasmine scented crystals. Sinking into the water, I sigh with satisfaction and lean my head back. My body is relaxed, but it’s also anticipating Justin. My breasts feel full and heavy while my pussy aches gently. It feels like ayear since he first kissed me properly, but I know it’s only been a few months. Leisurely, I trail a washcloth over my curves, more for the sensation of touch than cleanliness. I showered this morning after all, but it has been a long and busy day.

The sun is just beginning to set when I finally emerge from the bathroom wrapped in a silk robe almost the same green as the walls. Noise draws me out to the balcony where I find Justin and just one armchair he must have dragged in from one of the bedrooms next to the small metal table.

My brow furrows. “What…?”

Justin touches my lips with his index finger. “Just one second, baby.” He aims a champagne bottle over the balcony and pops the cork.

Ingrid looks downright dewy from her bath. Her solemn brown eyes regard me with a puzzled air. But I’m nothing if not good with a plan of persuasion. I pour us each a glass of champagne, then sit down in the armchair. A gentle tug on her hand and she takes a hesitant seat on my thighs. I hand her a glass.

“Anything you want to tell me before we commence with the evening’s activities, Ingrid?”

“Like what?” Her brow furrows more deeply.

I shrug. “Like maybe your feelings have changed and you’re no longer in love with me? Or you’ve developed an allergy to chocolate?”

Her brow clears. “No, silly. Whatarethe activities?”

I shake my head sternly at her. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just follow orders and you’ll be fine.”

She takes a sip of champagne before bursting into giggles. “Orders?”

I nod again. “Starting with, I want you to unbutton my shirt.”

She sets her glass down on the table. “Or what?”

“Or you don’t get dinner,” I growl into her throat.

“Okay, fine,” she grouses playfully and begins to slip the buttons from their holes. I watch her slim fingers at work in silence, my cock already responding. When she’s done, she raises an inquiring eyebrow at me.

“Now I want you to keep both hands on my skin while I feed you. If you take one or both off, I’ll stop until you fix the problem.”

She rolls her eyes but dutifully places both palms flat on my bare chest. I feed her a bite of the homemade broccoli quiche I found in the fully stocked refrigerator. Ingrid’s eyes widen with delight. After the second bite, her fingers begin swiping over my skin unconsciously. I switch to the potato salad, then a bite of baked chicken. By which time, her hands have moved down to my waist.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks quizzically.

“Later,” I tell her hoarsely. “Tonight is all about you.”

She takes one hand away and I frown but find a piece of quiche wedged against my lips. “Iwant you to eat so you don’t end up back in the hospital,” she informs me sternly. I let her feed me a few bites. My plan is not going the way I intended.When do they ever where Ingrid is concerned?I acknowledge to myself. I tug my shirt all the way off. Ingrid’s index finger traces the scars still pink from the accident.

“Hands, Ingrid. I need your hands on me, sweetheart.”

She complies, sliding them up and over my shoulders. I pull her tighter against my chest before feeding her a few more bites of quiche and then a few wild strawberries. I trail another one down her neck and into the V of her bathrobe beforepopping it into my mouth. Ingrid’s eyes widen until I kiss her and her lids slowly descend. The next berry goes under her robe and between her smooth thighs. She pulls back, startled. “Justin! What are you doing?”

I nip her chin before growling, “Seducing my wife.”

She relaxes into a grin. “Oh. Carry on then.”

“Thank you, I will,” I promise solemnly before popping the berry warmed by her skin into my mouth with satisfaction. I follow the same path with my hand, this time moving closer to her pussy, teasing her with barely there touches that come close to her more sensitive flesh but not quite. She fidgets on my lap, her hands clenching down on my shoulders.

“Drink your champagne, baby. I’m going to be busy here for a while.”

She snorts, but does pick up the glass for a few sips. “What am I supposed to be doing while you’re ‘busy’?”

“Trying not to cum. If you can do that for me, I’ll let you cum on my cock the first time. But if you can’t…” I hold the threat back, letting it hang in the air for a moment. “If you can’t hold it back, then I’m going to make you cum three times before you know what it means to be stuffed full of my cock. Understand?”

My hand moves closer to her clit, cupping her mound without directly contacting her enticing little bud. Ingrid moans.

“How am I supposed to stop it?” she finally mutters, her thighs reflexively clenching my hand.

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