Page 89 of Bloody Vows
“I told you what would happen if you touched yourself without permission, Simone,” I murmur. “I warned you that this pussy—” I slide one hand between her thighs, cupping her there in my palm, “is mine. That you come whenIsay so. You certainly don’t come where a security camera can see you, where anyone could have footage of what my wife looks like when she orgasms.”
“I didn’t know there was a camera in there,” she snaps.
“Well, now you do.”
“So I won’t do it again—” She tries to writhe away from me, but I hold her in place, my body blocking any possible escape for her.
“You squirming against me is just making me harder, Simone.” I smile, enjoying the expression on her face. Her cheeks are flushed, whether from embarrassment or arousal, I can't tell. Probably both.
“Fine,” she snaps. “Spank me or put me down on my knees or whatever you want to fucking do. I don’t care.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “I bet you’re dripping right now, thinking about all those possibilities.”
“I’m not?—”
“Careful about lying to me, Simone.” I reach for the hem of her tank top, dragging it up and over her taut stomach, above her small breasts. “Now, it’s clear I need to reinforce the rules. I can’t have my security guards seeing my wife like this. Which means if you need to come, you wait for me."
"That's not?—"
"It's exactly how it's going to be." I lift her up as I grab her shorts with one hand, yanking them and her panties down before setting her on the edge of the desk. "You want to touchyourself? You do it when I'm here to watch. You want to come? You do it on my terms."
"You're being ridiculous," she snaps, but the quaver in her voice tells me everything I need to know.
“Spread your legs, Simone.”
She glares at me mulishly. I don’t waver. “Spread your legs. If I have to do it for you, Iwillspank you before this is over.”
I can see the stubbornness and desire warring on her face. Slowly, her knees move apart, her face still burning as I pull her tank top over her head, leaving her entirely naked and perched on the edge of my desk.
“I should keep you like this,” I murmur. “Displayed for me while I’m in here working, except I’d never get anything done. I’d be hard all fucking day for you.”
Her eyes snap to mine, as if something I said resonated with her. I feel her knees move an inch further apart, see something soften in her body as I reach down, my finger grazing between her legs.
Just as I thought, she’s fucking dripping for me.
“I watched you, Simone. I saw how you touched yourself here." I slide my fingers up through her folds, to her swollen clit, mimicking her own touch earlier. “I saw what you wanted.”
"This is insane," she whispers, but she doesn't pull away.This is progress, I can’t help but think. This is Simone admitting that she wants me, even if she’s not saying it with words.
"This is necessary. You're mine, whether you wanted to be or not. Your pleasure is mine. Your body is mine. And I'll be damned if I let some security guard get off watching what belongs to me."
Something flickers in her eyes at my words, something that looks almost like satisfaction. She likes it when I claim her, when I make it clear that she's mine. She’d never say it aloud, but shewantsto be desired. To be needed.
And fuck if I’m not starting to need her in more ways than just to get off.
I reach down, sliding two fingers into her as I keep working her clit. I feel her clench around me instantly, feel her flutter, and a moan spills from her lips, making my cock throb. “Good girl,” I groan, the words coming out without my meaning for them to, and I see her pulse quicken in her throat.
This was supposed to be a punishment. I was going to draw it out, make her beg for her orgasm, possibly even deny it to her. Remind her that she comes at my pleasure, not hers. But right now, her pleasure feels like mine. Right now, I don’t want to fight her, don’t want to hurt her, don’t want to deny her. I don’t want anything but to see my wife come apart for me, to hear my name on her lips again as she comes on my fingers.
I'm supposed to be showing her who's in control here. Instead, I'm getting lost in the way she feels, the scent of her arousal, the beauty of her face flushed and taut with pleasure. I thrust my fingers deeper, mimicking the way she touched herself still, stroking her clit faster as Simone lets out another helpless moan.
I want to make her feel good. I want to make her needme. I want her to realize that we don’t have to fight each other, don’t have to hurt each other. That this could be so fuckinggoodif we could get past how it all began, and look forward to what it could be.
She’s close. I can feel it, and the driving need to make her come spurs me on, makes me forget to mimic the video the way I planned, to remind her that only I can touch her this way. All I want is to see her pleasure, to hear it, to know that it’s because of me.
I know this is dangerous—this level of need, this rush of feeling—it's exactly what I’ve avoided all my life. But watching her fall apart under my hands, feeling her body respond to me,realizing she’s stopped fighting me and is giving in to what I can do to her—it’s too much. I can’t fight it, either.
I love touching her. I love the way she responds to me, the way her pleasure has always been mine, long before she’s been willing to give in to it. I love the power I have over her body, but more than that, I love the power she has over mine.
