Page 108 of The Christmas Wife

I hesitate.

"Or not." He steps back.

I lose my grasp around his waist; my legs begin to slide down.No, no, no. I want this. I do."Please," I gasp.

"Please what?" His fingers tighten around my neck and my airflow slows. I open my mouth, try to breathe. My lungs burn. I thrust my thighs into his, hold on.Don’t let go. He’s testing you. Don’t give in; not yet.

"I… I…" I try to form the words, but my brain cells don’t comply. "Wes… I..."

"Want me to help you?"

I nod.

"Want me to play with your pretty cunt?" He tilts his hips and his thick length stabs my sensitized core.

I moan. I’m not proud. I tried to resist, tried to hold onto the last shred of my dignity that lies in tatters around me now. "Yes," I beg. "Yes."

"Want me to squeeze your butt," he grips my arse, "before I cram my fingers into your arsehole?" He drags his fingers down the valley between my butt cheeks. His touch sinks through the sodden mess of my clothes, my panties, into that empty part of me inside, that curls in on itself, throbbing with a need that only Doc Grumpyface can fulfill.

"Don’t stop," I whine.

"Want me to…" He brings his hand around, and grabs my pussy.

I wordlessly push my core forward, begin to fuck his palm like the out-of-my-head, sex-starved, stupid idiot that I am.

He hauls me up, his right hand around my neck—apparently, his injured finger does nothing to restrain his movements; with his other, he grips my pussy—pins me against the wall, and stares into my face.

My feet don’t touch the ground, and I should be scared. This position implies exactly what we are—me at his disposal, at his mercy, his to do with as he pleases. His grasp is firm enough toprop me up, allowing enough air to reach my lungs that I don’t suffocate, and yet… The lowered oxygen heightens my reactions, my sensitivity to his every move. I watch him watch me strain against that large hand at my core, and all of my nerve-endings seem to catch fire all at once.

He slides his palm under me so his fingers are flat against my butt. He presses his thumb through my tights and my panties into my swollen nub. Sparks explode behind my eyes. I throw my head back and pant. He rubs circles with his thumb around my clit. My pulse rate ratchets up.

"Look at me," his command whips through my thoughts.

I lower my face, crack my eyes open.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Who do you come for?"

"You."

"Who will you shatter for?"

"You," I groan, "Only you."

"Shatter for me, my Princess. Right fucking now."

He releases the hold on my neck and my climax explodes up my spine. Spots of white fold in to my line of sight. My pussy clenches; moisture floods between my legs. I hear the sound of someone wailing… Me? Is that me? My ears pop; my throat closes. A whine pours from me.

"Good, girl." He bends, licks my lips, "I am going to fuck you now."

Wh-a-a-t?

I blink as he lowers me to the floor. My knees give way; he holds me up with his fingers around my neck. My shoulders slump, I should say something… Do something…?

He reaches around to shut off the shower, then grabs the hem of my dress, pulls it over my head, and tosses it aside.

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