Page 85 of Stealing His Cupcake
“Yeah, I’m such a pure soul that I just spent an hour literally torturing you.” He doesn’t seem too upset about me tying him up and cutting him, and I’m not sure if I’m thankful or angry about it. I wanted him in pain, but I also didn’t want him in pain, and I really didn’t want him angry with me, so perhaps it’s for the best that he’s taking it so well. How I expected him to not be angry with me after literally carving my name into his flesh I do not know, but it seemed logical to crazy Amy, and it worked, so I won’t question her judgement. I have to ask Miranda, carefully, how crazy it is to name my different personalities, though. Or not. I’d hate to end up in a loony bin.
“That’s fine.” Wyatt doesn’t shrug this time, which is probably for the best, because some of the cuts just stopped bleeding and the movement would probably open them again. “I deserved that. I deserve so much more and you can cut me any time you feel like it, but can we go home, please?”
I pretend to think about it, just to mess with him, then look at him seriously. “Soon. First, I have some unfinished business with your cock.” I’m absolutely going to hell for relishing in the way Wyatt’s face loses all color, his eyes glued to the bloodied knife I’m still holding. Yeah, I kept it in my hand specifically to freak him out. Sue me. He hurt me first!
“Um.” Wyatt swallows and tugs on his restraints. “Okay. Just remember all the fun you can have with it while it’s, um, attached to my body, okay?”
“I don’t know. What about all the fun I could have with it if it wasn’t attached to your body?” Feasting on his panic for a few seconds like the evil bitch I apparently am—who would have thought I had it in me?—I finally cut him some slack. After all, it seems like he suffered almost as much as I did. He caused it, though, so he’s not off the hook completely. “I won’t cut off your dick, Wyatt. I’m just going to ride it and you won’t come until I do because if you do, I might just stab you.”
Visibly relaxing as I throw the knife away, Wyatt grins. “Well, that’s going to be hard because, cupcake, you look absolutely glorious when you are angry and I’ve been ready to blow since you pulled out that knife.”
“That’s probably not normal.”
“Probably. But it makes things fun. Come on, I want to watch you sink down on my cock.” The way he’s craning his head up to watch my pussy must be uncomfortable, not to mention pulling on his wounds, so I take pity on him and put a pillow under his head. Settling on it, Wyatt smiles, his eyes a little watery. Probably from all the pain he must be in. “You are a treasure I don’t deserve but will forever cherish, Amy,” he whispers reverently.
I’m so wet I don’t need any extra preparation. Being aroused by cutting your sexual partner is probably just as weird as being aroused by getting cut, but I don’t waste time thinking about that. Lifting myself up, I line Wyatt’s cock with my pussy and sink down smoothly, moaning as it fills and stretches me. “Yes. Fuck.” Our heavy breaths mingle in the space between us as I lean forward to kiss him. “You’re an idiot, Wyatt, but I love you.”
“I am an idiot,” he breathlessly agrees, chasing my mouth as far as the ropes allow him. “I’m the biggest idiot on the surface of this planet. I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am for leaving and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
“Hmm.” Pretending to think about it, I roll my hips, pleasure shooting through my body as I rub my clit against him. “Yeah. I think I shall allow it.” As if I could ever say no to this man.
Tightly gripping the ropes holding his arms apart, Wyatt throws his head back with a tortured groan. “Fuck, Amy. I won’t last. Touch yourself for me, cupcake.”
Leaning back, I rest one hand on Wyatt’s thigh for balance and slide the other one between my breasts, down to my clit. Our moans are a symphony as I rub it, and my inner walls clamp down on Wyatt’s cock. Wyatt yanks on the ropes, desperate to touch me, but I’ve tied him well and he can’t doanything except lie here and take whatever I decide to give him. I find I’m rather fond of that feeling, though I might like it even better if the roles were reversed. Minus the knife, of course.
Not today, though. Today, crazy Amy is in charge, moving up and down on Wyatt’s cock while rubbing her clit. My clit? Ours? Damn, do I actually have some split personality problem?
My pleasure cresting erases all other thoughts from my mind, leaving only one behind. Wyatt. Mine. Forever. He comes seconds after me, crying out my name like a fervent prayer, his cock throbbing inside me setting further ripples of pleasure as my orgasm goes on and on.
“Fuck.” Wyatt can’t seem to catch his breath. “That was…something. You’re truly perfect, Amy. I’m sorry for everything I put you through.”
The pushover part of me wants to forgive him immediately and forget all about it, but I don’t let it. In the past, I’ve been too forgiving with all of my boyfriends, especially Craig, and it never worked well. “You are not forgiven yet, but I’m not leaving you and I’m not letting you leave me, either. I will absolutely go through with my threat and chain you to the bed if you even think about leaving me again.”
“Well,” Wyatt grins, “if it ends up in an amazing sex, I’m game. How did you even find me?”
“Had a friend help me out.”
Wyatt cocks his brow. “Slava?”
“No, but you’re going to show me how to contact her. I bet she’d very much enjoy hunting you down,” I tease, laughing when Wyatt shudders. Grabbing the knife again, I get to work on cutting the ropes. The knots are too tight for me to untangle, and there are scraps and bruises forming on Wyatt’s skin underneath the ropes. “Oh. I guess my knotwork needs some improvement. Sorry.”
“It’s not that bad,” Wyatt replies, still surprisingly at ease with what I did to him. “And I couldn’t get free, which was the point, so I’d say your knotwork is just fine. We can watch some bondage tutorials if you want to tie me down again.”
His softening cock jerks inside me. “We can take turns,” I say, smiling.
Wyatt caresses me with his free hand, the rope dangling from it tickling my shoulder. “Whatever you want, cupcake. I’m yours.”
I tap on the fresh cuts on his chest, making him wince. “You are. Never forget that.”
“Okay, now I’m curious. What exactly did you carve into my chest?”
Cutting his other hand free, I move to his ankles. “See for yourself,” I reply easily, though I am a little worried. Did I go too far?
Still a little woozy from the drugs, or perhaps from the combination of drugs and alcohol, Wyatt staggers up from the bed but safely makes it to the bathroom. Laughter rings out as he sees himself from the mirror. Standing in the doorway, I watch him trace the crooked, bloody letters. AMY’S HUSBAND, they spell out.
Catching my eyes in the mirror, Wyatt grins. “I love it. Could have gotten a tattoo but, yeah. This is better. I promise I won’t forget again.”
“You’d better not, because next time I’m carving them into your cock,” I threaten. I don’t think I’d actually go through with that particular threat, but who knows what crazy Amy would do if Wyatt decided to leave again? Better not test her. “You also need to haul your ass to court and withdraw that divorce petition. That was a stupid decision.”
