by Qwillia Rain
The widening of her eyes only made his grin broaden. “Oh, baby.” Adjusting his hips, he thrust deep. One hand secured her wrists above her head while the other slipped between their bodies to knead a swollen crest, plucking at the sensitive nipple as he added, “It’ll be so fuckin’ sweet sandwiching you between us.”
Dipping his head, he pinched her other nipple between his teeth, tugging at the red peak until his woman arched against him, crushing her mound against the damp curls at the base of his shaft. Releasing the firm bead, Bryce rocked his hips in a subtle circle, massaging her nerve-rich clit squeezed between their bodies and holding her gaze as he continued, “Can you imagine it, Lawrence? My cock buried in your ass, stretching that sweet little rose until you’re hovering between pleasure and pain. Then Rich’ll slide right inside.”
“Oh God.” Her plea vibrated against his chest, but the sound was barely audible through the increased soughing of her breath through her lungs. Her thighs trembled around his hips, the muscles flexing wildly.
The cry grew louder as Bryce pulled back, the tip of his cock trembling on the edge of slipping free of her pussy. Her heels dug into his ass as she worked to force him to return. Despite the accumulated heat of the day swirling around them, mingling with the conflagration kindled by their lovemaking, the thought of any man, even Richard, savoring the woman beneath him sent a decided chill snaking its way from his wet cock up Bryce’s spine. The flat disks on his chest came alive, tautening into apparent crests just as Mattie struggled to free her hands and tried lifting her hips to his, drawing him back inside.
Instead Bryce waited, wrestling the wayward thoughts back under control and returning his attention to his wife. Once he could feel the rising strength in the pulsing taking place in her most intimate flesh, he pressed inward, tunneling past her soft tissue, forcing the narrow channel to open for him, and finishing his prediction. “He’ll fill you up, baby.” His shaft rocked back out, then in. “And we’ll have you riding our cocks longer and harder than any of the horses we’ve saddled here at the Folly.” He increased his pace. “It’ll feel so good, Lawrence. Fucking you front and back. Both of us sliding in and out.” He swallowed the bitter taste at the back of his mouth, determined to direct their relationship as he had those in his past.
Out, in, faster and faster, deep, then shallow, Bryce varied the depth and speed, then evened it out before switching up again and this time increasing his thrusts so every word punctuated a stroke in, then out. “Faster and faster, until you won’t know which end is up, and your sweet little pussy is begging to come. Your juices coating our thighs, the smell of wet pussy and hot cocks will be thick in the air, and every word will be you begging for permission to come.”
“Please.” Mattie’s voice hovered between them.
His eyes held hers as he used his free hand to shift her hips higher, tighter against his own as he shook his head. “No, baby, hold off. I want to see your pretty brown eyes go black as we ride you through climax after climax. And after each one, we’ll remind you about asking permission.”
The inevitable happened. The flutter of her flesh around him, the cries sliding from her lips and echoing in the still room erupted simultaneously with the shattering of her body beneath him. The walls surrounding him convulsed, clutching at his length, drawing him deeper, closer. Sobs tumbled from her lips as tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
“Stay with me, darlin’,” he gritted out as his own climax released the vise around his balls, arrowed up his spine, through his body, and radiated outward, filling him with heat.
Wits dulled by satisfaction, Bryce hovered over his wife, licking the tears wetting her cheeks. Soft words he was barely cognizant of uttering whispered through the room, easing the ragged soughing of her breath. The trembling of her legs as they fell away from his hips and the cry shuddering out of her as he carefully eased free of her body tugged at the invisible bond building between them. Despite his earlier decision, he was careful to make sure the thin latex protection remained in place as he pulled his still-hard cock free and rolled aside to dispose of the used condom.
Mattie was numb, her mind hovering in a vague cloud somewhere above her shaking frame. One part of her consciousness was aware of the slightest sound, could feel the lightest breeze slide across her damp flesh, while another was finding even the most automatic functions impossible, like breathing. It grew worse when Bryce separated his body from hers and rolled away. Without his solid form keeping her in place, she was sure to float away, her body felt that insubstantial.
The rough pressure of tears pressed against her eyelids, and the ragged sobs were difficult to stifle. Even as her emotions roiled within her, Mattie worked to calm her body. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Curling onto her side, she settled against his back, drawing some satisfaction from the knowledge that though her own climax had been unauthorized, Bryce’s control had been just as undermined as hers. The unsteady tempo of his breathing quickly smoothed out. Again she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
The rumble of his voice vibrated through her. The feel of his skin tingled against her palms. Smoothing over the damp flesh, Mattie took her time exploring, stroking along the broad expanse of his shoulders even as he shifted to face her again.
“Get another rubber, baby,” he directed, his lips against hers as the slide of his hard cock registered.
Glancing down, Mattie gasped at the firm erection pressed between them, the damp shaft nudged her belly even as she propped herself up on one elbow to retrieve a prophylactic from beneath the mussed pillows. “I…but…”
“Oh no, baby.” Bryce shook his head. Gripping one leg, he lifted her limb over his hip even as his free hand moved between them to hold her labia open, allowing his cock to settle into place in preparation for fucking her. “You’re allowed one breach of conduct.” The head pressed past the opening. “But no more coming without permission. Besides…” He stroked inside, burying himself completely in her wet channel, sending sensations rippling through her body.
She almost didn’t hear the rest of his words as she fumbled for the condom beneath the pillows.
“…besides, I’m nowhere near satisfied.” Warm lips opened over her breast, suckling the soft peak inside, bringing the sensitive tip to prominence. “I’ve got eight years to make up for.” His hips drew back, pulling his cock free, before hammering it home once, twice, and then a third time as he raised his head, cupped the back of hers, and turned her gaze up to his. “Eight years, darlin’.”
Moaning, Mattie stifled the automatic protest rising to her lips as he drew free of her body. Holding the foil packet up, she waited, body trembling in anticipation, knowing nothing would be the same by the time the sun rose again.
* * *
“Are you sure this is all you could find?” Victor thumbed through the file, grimacing at the sparse information within the pages.
“I have no idea what the investigator found, Victor.” Lionel’s sniff was audible over the connection, as if delving into the past of Halsey’s new wife was beneath him.
“Well, it took him long enough.” A note at the bottom of one page drew Victor’s attention. He’d grown used to the condescending attitude of the Makepeaces, so the derision in the older man’s voice was nothing new. “They were just married, so the investigator was a little late to make this information of any use.”
“Well, since you couldn’t stop the nuptials, you’ll just have to make yourself useful and get rid of the bitch before the board meets to give Halsey control.” Lionel’s tone was especially cold. “It’s your job to make sure he doesn’t take his father’s place.” The older man’s reminder was couched in his perpetually annoying whine.
Victor ignored it as he read the last few paragraphs of the page. “We have three weeks.”
“No, Victor,” Lionel reminded him. “You have three weeks.”
Victor barely noticed the abrupt termination of
the call as he reread the single-page, copied article and the neatly typed notes beneath it.
“Hey, Victor.” Charles Winthrop stepped into the office and dropped onto the chair in front of the desk without waiting for an invitation. “I just talked to Daniels.”
Careful to keep from drawing attention to the file, Victor closed it and set it beneath the blue folder containing another background report on Richard Bennett. “And?” Not that he was really interested in the other man’s information, but keeping the sheep placid helped in gaining him access to information he needed.
“Bennett is demanding the money from the pool.” The smirk on the younger man’s face grated on Victor’s nerves. Winthrop wouldn’t have a job if he had his way. And with things falling into place the way they were, it wouldn’t be long.
“Yes, I am.” The cool tone of Richard’s voice filled the office as he leaned in the doorway. “Although I am impressed at how late you’ve decided to stay.”
“Wedding over already?” Victor chided. “That certainly didn’t last long.”
Richard tucked his hands into the pockets of his tuxedo pants, the jacket unbuttoned, and pushed back as he moved into the room and settled onto the corner of Victor’s desk. “Let’s just say the bride and groom had other things on their minds than partying with their guests.”
“How inconsiderate of them.” Victor sneered, leaning back in his chair.
“The bet, Victor?” Richard ignored his comment. “Knowing Bryce as I do, and Mattie as well, there’s no way in hell you’ve gotten anywhere near her since the party. So pay up.”
Nodding at Winthrop, Victor watched as the Richard collected the money and counted the bills carefully. “I’m sure it’s all there, Bennett.”
“Just checking.” Richard folded the bills and tucked them into his pocket. “By the way, I would suggest curtailing your interest in making bets of a similar nature in the future. If I hear even a whisper of a rumor that you and your pals are laying odds on sexual conquests, your asses will be on the street so fast, your heads won’t have a chance to begin spinning.”
* * *
He knew the lighting was poor since the clouds had rolled in during the night, obscuring the moon, but it didn’t matter. From memory, he could identify every curve of her body. The soft rise of her breast, the nipped-in waist, and the full, rounded hips were imprinted on his mind’s eye. Not to mention stored in his sensory memory as well. Having explored every inch of her frame throughout the night, Bryce was confident he could easily recreate an image of her without illumination of his subject. Now, leaning back in his chair, sketch pad on his knee, Bryce worked on committing every curve, each dip, onto paper.
The bedcovers were tangled near her feet. The majority of the pillows littered the floor around the bed, having been pushed there earlier in the evening. The thick length of his growing erection was easy to ignore as he worked on the sketch. Hell, his cock hurt too much to think about sinking into her body one more time tonight.
Involuntarily, Bryce chuckled. He’d been right when he predicted six times wasn’t going to be enough for him. After that first bone-melting orgasm, he’d given them only a few minutes rest before rolling his new wife up onto her hands and knees and mounting that sweet pussy from behind. The lush curve of her ass taunted him with every thrust, but he’d waited. He’d waited until after pulling three more climaxes out of her before lubing his cock and breaching the tight entrance and marking his property by coming inside her for the first time.
Just a few hours earlier, he’d been careful to study her reaction when he cursed at the discovery of a torn condom. The flash of worry came and went in her eyes, telling him little other than his attentions had exhausted her. Inside he’d grinned at the defective prophylactic, knowing that its collapse could later be pointed to as the possible culprit if she fell pregnant. Despite his plans to force her to face her fears regarding his commitment to their marriage, he hoped this accident proved a lucky one.
As his hand flew across the page and the image of her began to take shape, he looked forward to the day he could have her model for him. Her body round with life… “Christ,” he whispered into the stillness of the room. “You’re getting as bad as old Cole himself, my man.”
Besides landscapes and portraits of his children, his great-great-grandfather and namesake, Collas Brysson Halsey’s favorite subject for his art was his wife, Margaretta. In various states of dress, and at all stages of her pregnancies, he’d sketched and painted her.
Looking up from his sketch pad to the woman on his bed, Bryce had to admit to a similar fascination with his own wife. Hell, how many renderings did he have hidden away in drawers and cabinets? Drawings he’d done every time the need had grown so great fucking a convenient woman wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Even as he watched her, imagining the curve of her belly rounding and expanding as his baby developed, he had to admit that the thought of mounting her while she was carrying his children was just as exciting as knowing he was her first lover.
In the insufficient light, his eyes followed the curves of her swollen breasts, peaked nipples, and splayed thighs. Despite the weak light, he could make out the glimmer of juices on her naked mound. He wondered if her dreams were as bawdy as his own had been over the years. When sleeping, did she dream of his mouth settling over her pussy, fucking her with his tongue before replacing it with his cock?
Setting aside his pad and charcoal, Bryce gripped his erection, stroking up and down its length as he watched his wife shift among the tumbled bedding. “Spread those legs for me, baby. Let me see my pussy.” Bryce was aware he’d spoken his desire aloud, but it wasn’t until Mattie complied with his command that he wondered if she was playing at being asleep or if she really was.
When she rolled onto her side, facing away from him, Bryce had to grin. Even in her sleep, his lady was tugging at her restraints. The ache in his flesh as well as that in his balls had him rising from the chair and returning to the bed. “Roll over, baby,” he commanded, making sure to keep his voice low.
Mattie did as he ordered, turning onto her back, hair tangled across her face as she arched into the stroke of his fingertips over her breasts. In her sleep she purred in response to his touch on her nipples, the insides of her thighs, and the bare flesh of her mound.
Easing down onto the bed, Bryce settled between her legs, pressing open her labia to expose the wet pink center. Swollen but shy, her clit barely peeked out at him as he moved forward, sliding his tongue from the bottom to the top of her slit and then repeating the caress. The moment he thrust inside the warm sheath, lapping at the honey her body produced, he could feel her tense, then arch beneath him, signaling she was awake.
Protest hovered on her lips, but she didn’t voice it. He could see it in her eyes as he rose over her and slid inside, pushing deep, hissing at the discomfort while savoring the wet, heated walls surrounding him. “God, baby.” He chuckled, sliding back, then shoving forward, needing the rasp of her flesh over his. “You’re so fuckin’ addicting. I’m never gonna get any work done.”
“Co-con-condom,” she stammered, even as her legs rose to wrap around his waist, drawing cries from both of them as his cock settled deeper, rubbing the one spot he’d discovered could quickly undermine any control she fought for over her body.
“Not this time,” he commanded. Leaning down, he kissed her, nipping at her lips, puffy from his attention earlier in the evening. “Swear to God, baby, I’ll pull out before I come, but I have to feel this. Feel you, wet and hot around me.” Even as he shuttled in and out of her body, his hands gripping her hips, mouth feeding on hers, Bryce worked the logistics out in the small part of his mind not overcome by the sensations making love to his wife induced.
Each thought was voiced aloud as he made the decisions, her every response cataloged to be drawn on later for analysis. “No panties at work, baby,” he ordered. “At least not for the first six months. I might”—he shook his head, dipped to nibble on a
taut peak before finishing—“and I mean might be able to make it through my early morning appointments without bending you over the desk, but don’t count on it for the next six weeks or so.”
Her mewling cries increased as his hips picked up the pace, circling, then thrusting before switching tempo and depth. “And you better make sure we’ve got plenty of protection stashed in the desks. Both mine and yours. And the apartment upstairs.”
“Yes, yes.” Mattie gasped, her hands clutching at his shoulders, fingers pressing deep as she fought the climax he could feel building inside. “Oh please, Bryce, I need… I can’t…”
“Do you have to come, baby?” he asked, hands cupping her cheeks, forcing her thrashing head to still and her eyes to meet his. The pupils expanded, swallowing the chocolate until only the faintest ring surrounded the black center.
“Please.”
“Then come,” he whispered, caressing her lips with his. “Let go, darlin’. I’ve got you.” The press and flex of her internal muscles had him gritting his teeth, fighting his own climax. Seconds after hers started, Bryce began cursing as first one pulse, then a second escaped his control, forcing him to pull free and empty his load over her belly and breasts.
Keeping control was going to play hell with his nerves, but finally taking possession of his woman was going to be worth every second of discomfort.
Chapter Fourteen
“So.” Lyssa smiled at Mattie as she set the teakettle on the burner and switched on the stove. “How’s married life?”
Mattie watched her sister move around the kitchen, not sure how to respond. She could be honest and say the sex was incredible and nonstop, but she didn’t think her sister wanted to hear that. “I’ve only been married a little over two months, Lys. There hasn’t been time for the honeymoon to end.”
