Unchained

by Suzanne Halliday

  But following the exhausting run up to the wedding and the endless hoopla of their weeks in Boston, he wanted his wife to relax. To unplug and just be. Their quaint and cozy Spanish finca was so far off the grid that he’d easily found the unspoiled togetherness he had hoped for—as long as Justice or their parents didn’t interfere.

  He had to hand it to his parents. After they had returned to the vineyard following the group visit to Arizona, they’d kept their distance even though they were just a few hours away. It was because of his intense desire to carve out as much quality privacy as possible that he’d reluctantly given in and taken his excited bride to the family winery for a quick and very perfunctory visit.

  His parents understood. This time, when it was just the two of them, it had sacred overtones. What they’d started to build during their time in Arizona and what they’d brought to their first months of married life was the foundation they’d need for a long, happy life.

  But the time had come, he groused, to start dropping breadcrumbs. Their business in Washington would eventually wrap up, and it was almost time to go home. He needed to prepare her for what awaited them on the Justice compound.

  Her stomach picked that moment to rumble. He’d better feed her before they had those drinks he poured. The last thing he needed was a drunk wife with an overly lively sex drive.

  Actually, maybe that was exactly what he needed. What they both needed. A bit of letting their hair down and turning the filters off before life came crashing down around them.

  Snickering as he guided her onto his lap, Alex brought her hand around his neck and squeezed her fingers. When they wrote the definitive book on sex positions—this one would be his favorite. Fully clothed, focused entirely on each other and his Irish Fuck Goddess settled comfortably on his lap. He didn’t need to get inside her to be inside her.

  Giving his inner dialogue the finger, he thought, Yeah, whatever. Makes perfect sense to me.

  “Why, Mrs. Marquez, I do believe your stomach is growling. Have I neglected your gastronomical needs?”

  “Oh, for god’s sake, Alex.” She laughed as her whole face lit up. “Gastronomical needs? No wonder Da thinks you’re some kind of Spanish royalty. Cut it out, would you?”

  After a quick palming of her butt, he pinched her through the flimsy cotton dress she wore. “Getting too clever for your own good, you’re spoiling all my fun.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Her lush smile was enchanting.

  “I just mean,” he drawled, “that you’re getting better at avoiding saying shut up. Cut it out? Isn’t that just a smarter-ass way of cutting me off?”

  Batting her eyelashes, she feigned a simper with a lip bite to stop from giggling. He’d taught her well.

  “Major Marquez. Sir.” The wicked way the taunt sparkled in her expression made him instantly hard.

  Yes. It really was that simple.

  She continued with a naughty wiggle for emphasis. “I have to insist you shut up.”

  He liked this game they played. And so did she. It was their trademark. Everyone knew about it, and that only made it more fun.

  Drawing his brows together in a mock scowl, he grabbed a hefty handful of her hair and took control of her head. “Are you mocking your master, wife? I’m serious y’know. Every time you tell me to shut up, you earn spanks. Am I not pinking your ass hard enough? Maybe I should practice more.”

  He yanked and pushed until she rolled on his lap in a sprawl of arms and legs where he proceeded to hold her head down and pull the dress up over her bottom.

  “Shit! Alex,” she yelped in surprise as she frantically struggled.

  “Now, now.” He chuckled. “Suddenly realize what being a smartass earns you?”

  After peeling her panties away, he caressed the firm, fleshy globes of her mouthwatering ass and expressed his appreciation with a low, rumbling groan. She quivered slightly. Knowing she was turned on excited him.

  “Since this is a practice session,” he growled with a full-handed squeeze of ass, “you get no warm-up. And no mercy.”

  She went limp, and a deep-throated whimper escaped her mouth.

  “That’s right, baby.” He circled her ass as if he was drawing a bull’s-eye, and then he pulled back and smacked her hard. Her sexy gasp and the sound of his hand connecting with her flesh filled his senses.

  He’d promised no mercy and no warm-up. Five minutes later, he’d met his objective, and his wife’s ass was a warm red. Sliding his hand between her legs, Alex’s fingers found plentiful evidence of Meghan’s reaction to the ferocious spanking.

  “So wet.” He grunted. “So begging to be fucked.”

  Finding something to eat and having a drink quickly evaporated from his mind.

  “Up,” he urged as she rolled off him and landed on her knees at his feet. It wasn’t until he saw her flushed face and tears sparkling in her bewitching green eyes that he realized she wasn’t going to be sitting anytime soon.

  Acting on impulse, Alex grabbed her face and dove onto her mouth with greedy abandon. She responded instantly as he furiously kissed her until she was shaking like a leaf.

  If he had any finesse after the incendiary kiss, he didn’t know how to access it. His cock was full to bursting, and the beast demanded to feed.

  “Facedown right where you are.” The demand was heavy in his voice. She looked into his eyes. Hers were dilated and heavy with lusty desire.

  Alex stood and began to unbuckle his belt. His hands picked up speed when he saw her tongue swipe lips still swollen from his possessive kiss. He fucked with her because it was part of their dance of love.

  “I said facedown, woman.”

  Alex remembered at the last second to suck in his gut and protect his inflamed cock from potential harm as the zipper started down on his slacks. This time, his sexy wife licked her lips on purpose and gazed at him with a plea in her expression.

  “Okay, fine,” he grumbled making sure to load his delivery with mock exasperation. “Release the beast yourself, if you must, but then you get that beautiful face on the carpet and your ass up. Oh, and spread your knees wide. I need room to fuck your pussy—hard.”

  Her hands moved with lightning speed, shoving his aside as she took over with the zipper. In a deliberately naughty way, she reached into the back of his slacks and helped herself to his ass before deftly pushing the tailored pants to the floor.

  Meghan had a thing for his thighs. She’d told him once that touching the dark hair on his legs was an instant aphrodisiac, so he fully expected her next move. Only she surprised him with a purposeful detour ending with her lips on the scar-ravaged skin marring his left side.

  His emotions kicking into overdrive, Alex’s legs started to tremble as his wife’s loving attention to his wartime injury warmed his heart.

  Sitting back on her feet, she looked up at him. This was Meghan’s way. She found subtle ways to draw a line around certain feelings. Pausing between honoring his past with her kiss on his damaged body and undressing him so he could follow through with fucking her, she reminded both of them of who they were.

  She almost said something—he could see it on her face, but sometimes, her silence, when he was so dominant, was one of the several fuels feeding the fire of pleasure he was building.

  First, he smiled into her eyes, his nod of acknowledgment almost infinitesimal. Then unleashed her favorite hooded smirk. The one that said Are you ready for my cock?

  Like an Irish cowgirl geisha, she rather boldly smirked right back, deliberately wet her lips, and then studiously made short work of removing his briefs and tossing them and his slacks on the sofa. His freed hard-on wasted little time unfolding in all its hard, throbbing glory.

  Her appreciative leer emboldened him further as he stood there in nothing but a button-down shirt with his cock set to stun.

  Grabbing his hungry dick, Alex used both hands to stroke the length and massage his balls. Her breathing was getting choppy as she watched with avid
interest.

  “Locked and loaded with come, just for you, baby. Now, do as you were told unless you want that ass to be even redder. Facedown, Meghan. Ass up. Knees wide.”

  It was all kinds of thrilling to see how quickly she complied. Turning around, she pushed her knees wide, arched her back, and put her chest on the carpet.

  “Look at me,” he growled in a demanding voice.

  She tilted her head and looked back at him. Her eyes were feverish with a heady blend of arousal and desire.

  Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Alex lifted the hem of her dress until he’d pushed the fabric up and over her ass. When he finally looked away, he saw the beautiful sight of his handprint on her skin.

  When he dropped down behind her and rubbed the head of his cock around her glistening wet opening, she whimpered sweetly.

  Was anything better than a wife who craved her husband’s cock? He didn’t think so. Not when her pussy was open and inviting him to ravish her.

  “More arch, baby,” he instructed as he helped move her into position. “That’s my good girl.” Stroking the reddened marks on her ass, he shifted his hips, sliding his hardness along her wet slit. Every time he moved over her clit, she moaned.

  “Watch while I fuck you, wife,” he demanded. Her gaze never wandered away. She was totally focused on what was going to happen.

  Guiding the wide, fat head of his cock to her pussy opening, he fed the tip in as he spread her lips with his other hand.

  “No mercy,” she murmured with a husky groan.

  His eyes swung to hers. Message received. Gripping her hips at the top of her thighs, Alex held his wife in position as he rammed his cock deep in one ferocious thrust that made them both grunt.

  Instantly, her pussy quivered, and he felt a rush of heat encase his cock. Before retreating to initiate another harder, deeper thrust, he ground his manhood in the hot, wet heaven of her glorious womanhood with a barrage of hip rolls that kept them groaning out loud.

  God. They fit so perfectly.

  “Rub your clit,” he demanded with a throaty growl.

  He waited until her fingers went where he instructed. She ran them around the base of his cock and touched where they joined. That was all it took for his beast to take over.

  Rearing back, his hips flexed and began slamming her brutally hard, over and over. He grunted like an untamed animal each time he sank into her. Arousal flooded her pussy. He liked it when she got crazy fucking wet. Liked it when her juices drenched them. It was sexy as fuck and just made him thrust harder. Keening softly, she was trembling all over when a jolt of wet heat and the sudden clutching of her pussy muscles told him she was on the edge of a tumultuous orgasm.

  He looked at her red ass. Watched his cock, glistening with her arousal, as he pounded her sweet body. Listened to her husky cries and his primal grunts.

  “Come for me, wife. Give my cock what it wants.”

  He felt her fingers explore his thrusting cock as she arched even further and rubbed her clit. She came in a groaning completion that nearly exploded his brain. Feeling every pulse as she orgasmed on his cock sent Alex higher than he remembered ever being.

  In no time at all, his furious strokes and the way her body demanded everything he had, Alex exploded inside her. Thrusting, grunting, and emptying deep, he marveled at the power and length of his orgasm.

  When the last of his seed was sucked from his balls, he stroked her well-spanked ass and pulled out. The sight of her bent over with her pussy inflamed and red from the powerful mating gave Alex pause. It humbled him how well matched they were and how perfect his come looked as it leaked from her body.

  Bending, he kissed her tender ass and stood up.

  “Come on, Fuck Goddess,” he murmured as he gently helped her move. It took a minute, but eventually, he got her up and standing with everything back in place except her panties.

  She stood there meekly, still trembling and probably in a little bit of shock, as he slid on his briefs and slacks. Shoving his shirttails into the waistband of the pants, he quickly finished dressing.

  Some sort of aftercare was always necessary when he used her so fiercely. Reaching for the drinks he’d poured earlier, Alex handed her the Jameson and watched as she carefully sipped. He followed suit and after a couple of swallows, some calm washed over them until he saw a flash, something like a shocked grimace, move on her face.

  “What’s the matter?” he immediately asked.

  Her eyes lowered, and he saw a blush burst to life on her face. With a finger under her chin, he tilted her head to force her to meet his eyes. He was astonished to see the embarrassment in her expression.

  “Meghan, baby. What’s wrong?”

  Wrinkling her nose, she shifted a few times on her feet and cleared her throat. “I can feel it.” Her voice sounded half amused and half flustered.

  “Feel what?”

  “Um,” she murmured before taking a small sip. Irish courage? Maybe. Whispering as though she was sharing a treasonous secret, she leaned into him and said, “You. Dripping down my thigh.”

  Well, goddammit. He didn’t think she could possibly say anything sexier than that. Grinning like a damn fool, he sipped the Glenfiddich and leered at his wife.

  “Well, there’s more where that came from,” he teased with a wink. “But I think feeding you is next up on the agenda. Gotta keep my woman’s strength up.”

  She shook her head, tsk’ed, and rolled her eyes.

  “You’re gonna need it later when you suck my dick for dessert.”

  Meghan let half a giggle out before she looked at him as if he was a naughty kid.

  “Dick dessert? I didn’t see that on the room service menu.”

  “No?” He smirked in reply. “It’s a Double M specialty. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  She balls-out starting laughing. “Double M!” She shrieked with laughter. “Yep. That’s me. Meghan Marquez.”

  Wiping away tears of amusement, she sniffed and ended with a bratty pout. “Well, I’m glad to hear it’s a specialty. Would suck for you if it was just some run-of-the-mill thing.”

  Alex stopped and took in the moment. Glenfiddich in hand. A sexy, adorable wife by his side with his come slowly leaking from her well-fucked pussy. And the promise of a gagging Double M hovering in the immediate future.

  Yeah. Ya know what? It was fucking great to be alive. And maybe, just maybe, if he made a real effort, he’d manage to tell her a few of the things she needed to know before any more time passed.

  “THAT IS NOT at all what I said, and you know it. Now, stop interfering and get lost. Unlike you, I have work to do.”

  Remington Bisset was one of those girls you wanted to either seduce or push under the wheels of a speeding train. One minute, she was so sweet his teeth ached just being near her, and the next, he was contemplating having her deported on account of being a giant bitch.

  “Ooh, burn, Remy,” her sycophantic assistant mocked, some twisted fuck going by the name Jean Claude. Seriously? What kind of stupid name was that? Jon Clod, he thought with a double dose of ridicule.

  “Shut the fuck up, Jonny,” he sneered. “Nobody was talking to you.”

  A filthy rag wadded into a ball went sailing past his head, missing him by a hair because he was fast enough to duck.

  “Finn O’Brien, for god’s sake. What do you want? I have a metric assload of work to do, and the last thing I need is you throwing your weight around for no discernable reason.”

  Well, she had him there.

  “Tell your flying monkey to hit the pike and I’ll tell you what I want.”

  Remy looked at him with such exasperation that he chuckled aloud. Slapping her hands to her waist, she cocked a hip in that ‘Fuck you’ way she did so well and huffed out a long, deep sigh.

  “Aw, come on. Really? Why’s it gotta be this way, O’Brien?” Kicking the ground with her booted heel, she swore under her breath and crossed her arms defensively. “Okay. The flying monkey I g
et, but hitting the pike, I do not.”

  Jean Claude stuck his pointy snout into the conversation and very nearly got socked in the jaw for it. Finn hated the slimy shit with an unnatural intensity.

  “Monsieur O’Brien would like me to go away,” he said in a thick French accent.

  What a fucking dick. He wanted to take a wicked piss right down the guy’s throat every time he saw him. What this skinny pants wearing butt farmer was doing out in the middle of the desert was a mystery, that was for sure. He came off as someone better suited for facials and body waxing in New York City than sweating his balls off in a compound so choked with testosterone someone should post a warning label.

  Turning her back on both of them, Remy headed for the cool interior of the small adobe building he’d found out was the new domain for the band of people managing the stable, garage, and grounds.

  Looked to him like Alex left nothing undisturbed or changed in what people referred to as the Great Justice Shuffle. He’d never been here before, so what the hell did he know? All of his information was filtered through the adoring throng of groupies who worked for the Justice chain gang or were part of the Villa staff.

  He didn’t quite understand how Remy Bisset fit into this surreal landscape. Word was that she was a veteran like most everyone else. Not that he should care. It was just that of the dozens of people he’d met since his banishment to the desert, she was one of the few he found interesting.

  Falling in behind her as she stomped into the adobe, he admired the tight efficiency of her denim-clad ass. Every side-to-side swagger reminded him that Remy didn’t give a shit in any way, manner, or fashion. Probably why he was so drawn to her. He was the same way, yet all it did was earn him a one-way ticket to the Wild West.

  Once inside the cooler interior of the unusual office building, she tore a bandana from around her neck, swiped it across her forehead, and tossed it onto the desk. She spared him half a glance—a dismissive half glance—but he wasn’t so easily dissuaded. He also rather enjoyed watching her. She was interesting and then some.