Page 61 of Longing for Liberty
He headed to his bedroom, and I took a moment to get my bearings. As far as punishments went, that had been both scary and discomforting, but I was okay. In fact, I was grateful that’s the punishment he chose instead of something else…anything else.
Being told not to kiss or be with Jeremy was going to be the worst part of all this.
I picked up the plug from the floor and washed it, along with myself, before getting back to work. Cleaning while naked was distracting and awkward, not to mention the fact that my bottom was stinging like a bitch, but I would make do.
Twice during the day, Amos had me again, forcefully and hot—once against the wall and once over his bathroom sink as he held my throat and made me keep my eyes on him in the mirror—and like the first time, neither of us got to the point of completion. His stamina and willpower took me by surprise. I, myself, was a shaky mess by the time I finished making his spaghetti and garlic bread. When I brought out his plate, he was sitting on the sofa, fully dressed in work clothes minus a jacket or tie. I set the plate on the table, and he motioned me over with two fingers.
I went to him, stopping between his knees. He held my eyes with his as he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling himself out and stroking twice.
“Ready yourself.” He nodded toward the vial of oil on the coffee table and watched me as I oiled my fingers, then myself. I was sore, but not horribly so. My body was still wet and needy. He motioned me forward again and took me by the waist, pulling me to straddle him. I moaned as my core pressed against his hardness, and Amos took my face, kissing me thoroughly.
Our hands roamed one another as I rubbed my wet center against him until he finally lifted me and grasped his cock, aligning with my back opening again, then pushing my hips down. We both groaned loudly as my body filled with him, stretching me more and more until I was flush against his hips.
He took my chin and pulled me in for another ravaging kiss, bucking his hips upward. From this angle, unlike from behind, my bundle of nerves was able to rub against him when I came down. Amos angled me back, sucking each breast into his mouth, one by one, before pulling me forward to kiss him again.
I was breathing harder, moving my body, and I realized he had relaxed back and was letting me ride him. So I did.
“Amos,” I whispered against his mouth.
His arms wrapped around me. “Yes.”
I called out his name again, bouncing down harder, deeper, rubbing, circling.
“Liberty…” He said my name like a gruff warning, and it was so sexy.
My body hit its apex and spilled over, my head falling back, and Amos lost it with me, his arms tightening around me as his hips jutted up. Together our bodies throbbed and pumped, sweat dampening my skin and his neck.
He took the back of my head and pulled my face to his as we breathed hard for a long while until the tension ebbed and we came down. “Don’t make me punish you again.”
“I won’t,” I whispered the promise.
I cleaned us up and redressed, noticing it was hard to zip my skirt all the way up. I sucked in and finally got it. It had been tough to zip it that morning, too. I’d had a moment of panic about being pregnant before I assured myself that wasn’t the cause. It was simple nutrition.
“Mm.” I heard Amos make the sound from the back of his throat, and I turned to see him eyeing me in my snug uniform.
I felt my face heat. “It’s getting tight. I’ll get a new one from the office.”
But he shook his head as he walked over, refolding his sleeves before reaching around and pulling my body to his by my bottom. “This is exactly what I’d hoped for—to see you fill out the skirt. Give me a few more days of watching you in this one before you get a new one.” When I nodded, still feeling flushed, he took my chin and kissed my mouth long and slow.
“Have a good night, Liberty.”
“Good night, Amos.”
TWENTY-NINE
STATE NEWS: NEW HOMESCHOOLING CURRICULUM TO BE DISTRIBUTED THIS WEEK!
After that begana strange time of being the maid and mistress for Amos Fitzhugh, my days and tasks and sexual encounters blending into a lifestyle that felt like some alternate version of myself. A version of me who listened and parroted back every single thing she overheard at work to either Rebecca or Jeremy. A version who automatically went up on her toes to kiss her husband hello or goodbye each day, only to see his eyes widen, and his head give a minute shake, reminding her it wasn’t allowed. But at night, we held hands under the covers—our mutinous act of affection.
At church we learned that seven more people from our mid-family neighborhood had died, and their community was still “Closed for Prayer.” Some sort of sin needed to be dealt with there, and the deaths would continue until the Maker was satisfied. Until then, nobody was permitted in or out.
These were the sorts of things that kept me awake at night. What if Jeremy ever got sick? I didn’t know if I could watch him waste away and suffer, knowing there were ways to save him. The phoenix inside me arched its spine at the very thought. I would lose my head…perhaps literally and figuratively.
I couldn’t let those kinds of thoughts go on too long. Or empathize too deeply with the families going through it right now. My focus had to be on the only thing I could control—keeping and growing Fitzhugh’s trust so that I could continue to pass information.
Unfortunately, there were many things I could not control.
I woke in the middle of the night shivering. When I sat up to grab the blanket, I realized I was sweating, but I was freezing. I knew this feeling, though it had been years…I had a fever. Shit.Shit.
