Page 71 of Shame

“Lumberjack life?”

“You want me to chop wood for you without a shirt on?”

“Yes.” She gazes at me with such soft longing it makes me desperate.

Again.

I crowd her against me, holding her tight with my arms, and press my mouth against her neck.

Her breath hitches as I graze her skin with my teeth. “Ah…” She gasps as I bite harder, an urgent whine that sends blood pumping to my dick.Fuck, that’s so filthy.

“Remember your words,” I growl.

Then I pick her up and carry her to our bed.

“I know…” she promises.

“Stop, or ouch.”

“I didn’t say any of them,” she whispers.

No, but I’m never going to stop reminding she has outs if she wants them. That I’ll only hurt her as much as she wants, only give her the pain she desperately craves.

“Good. Daddy likes how you put up with his hunger for your skin.”

“Oh…” She writhes in the tight vice of my arms. “No, please…”

“Please mark you? Please sink my teeth into your flesh so you’ll remember this when we can’t be alone?”

She whimpers again. I haul her on top of me, my hands hard against her forearms. She’s light as a feather as I manhandle her, pliant and perfect.

“Is that what you want, you little slut?” I hold her above me, arms pinned against her side, and use my mouth to rip her negligee down her torso, baring her breasts. “God, Grace. Your breasts are perfect.”

She cries out for real as I latch on to one nipple. Her flesh is hot and swollen in my mouth, and I forget I’m supposed to be biting her because all I want to do is suck and lick and consume her in the softest way.

As her legs fold up on either side of me, her bare slit brushes against my belly, slick and soft, and I groan at the contact.

I shove my boxers down, low on my hips, bringing my cock out to play. She gasps when it makes contact with the sweet, lush curve of her bottom, and I grind us together.

Then I flip us over and loom big above her.

She’s soft beneath me, her arms stretched wide like she’s floating on water. I touch her reverently, carefully, just my fingertips to start. Then my whole hand, wanting more contact with her skin. Lust churns inside me, but there’s another clawing feeling competing to direct what I do next.

Adoration.

There is a laundry list of feelings I didn’t allow myself to properly feel for my wife in the past, and lust has been top of that list most often. Showing Grace how much I want her has been my mission for weeks.

Tonight is different. And I’m honestly surprised at how this feeling dominates the lust. Yes, I want to fuck her. Yes, I want to be buried inside her. Yes, I want her scent imprinted on me, again. Yes, yes, always yes.

But that’s about me.

I’ve let myself run wild with that because she needed to see it.

But she needs more than just that, too.

She needs to be adored, worshiped, honoured.

“Daddy loves you so much. Wants to keep you safe. Do you feel safe, little bird?”

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