Sophie, who had been pleasantly buzzed from the wine until a moment before, slumped down in her chair. “Tell me the truth. Am I giving up hot sex forever by marrying Justin?”
“Justin’s a great guy, Sophie, you definitely want a commitment so he doesn’t slip away,” Ashlyn said, her expression solemn. “And there’s more to your relationship than sex, right?”
At the time Sophie nodded. Of course there was more to their relationship. They made each other laugh. He cooked a delicious pasta primavera. And there was no place she’d rather be after a rough day at the office than enfolded in his arms. But would any of that have the same glow without frequent refuelings of wild, wet, and very satisfying copulation?
Such thoughts still troubled her as she lay beside her boyfriend, the end of their wonderful sex life just hours away.
As if he somehow sensed her doubts, Justin’s eyes fluttered open. He smiled and slipped an arm around her. She snuggled against him, her head resting against his shoulder, their legs tangled together like his signature linguine. She secretly called this position “All is right with the world,” because she never wanted anything else when they were floating together like this. Especially after a good round of scream-until-your-throat-is-raw sex.
But, after they were married and stopped having sex, maybe this feeling of contentment would be enough? She started to ask Justin, to tell him of her fears, but his breath had grown slow and even, and she didn’t want to disturb his rest. He’d need all the strength he could get later.
When she told him the wedding was off.
After all, what did a stupid piece of paper mean in this day and age anyway?
Maybe that was part of the problem. Deep inside she wanted a traditional wedding night, which meant they would touch each other in a way they had never experienced before. But in the two years they’d known each other, they’d already licked and sucked and penetrated each other’s bodies in every way possible. How could they manage anything new or surprising tonight?
It would be so different if they had fallen in love a hundred and fifty years ago, at the height of Queen Victoria’s reign. Proper gentleman that he was, Justin would have courted her on countless Sundays after church before he asked her father for her hand. And yes, he’d have whirled her around the dance floor until her bosom was heaving and lifted her from carriages, his strong hands encircling her tiny, cinched waist. All the feelings she had down there, beneath her voluminous petticoats, would remain unnamed and unexpressed but in a subtle blush, a catch in her breath when he touched his lips to the back of her hand.
And then, on their nuptial night, the famine of touch would suddenly turn to a free-for-all feast. Justin’s tongue would probe her mouth, his hands would caress her tender breasts, his manhood would sink inside her most intimate flesh for the very first time all in the same hour.
How intense was that?
Instead of dragging her off to a tapas bar and a dance club, her dearest girlfriends would attend her in her bridal chamber. They would guide her to the canopied bed, brush her long hair over her shoulders, tuck a fresh rosebud in the neckline of her flowing white nightgown for Justin to remove—literally, deflower—when he claimed his husbandly prerogative. In those days, a man owned his wife’s body as completely as he owned land or horses.
Sophie wondered what she would have felt when Justin, her first and only lover, explored all the treasures of his new possession, brushing her sensitive nipples with his fingers, slipping his hand between her nether lips. Would her new husband be gentle or strangely transformed by lust? Would she weep from the total surrender of her heart, her body, her name? Would she cry out when he mounted her, wincing from the pain that was a woman’s duty and yet a secret pleasure as well?
Sophie sighed. Justin had been her eighth lover, although he’d been her first for a few of the more esoteric sexual practices most fairly adventurous couples enjoyed on occasion: back-door sex, light bondage, the occasional pearl necklace. Yet the timeless experience she longed for—a first night of profound erotic transformation in the arms of the man she loved deeply—was a pleasure she could never know.
“Hey.”
Startled from her Victorian era reverie, she looked up to meet her fiancé’s twinkling blue eyes.
“Good morning, Mr. Phillips. You look happy.”
“I am. Today’s the happiest day of my life.”
“Why?” Sophie asked. Still half-lost in her musings, she was genuinely surprised by his answer.
“Silly. Because I’m marrying the most wonderful, beautiful woman in the whole world.”
Oh, right, speaking of our wedding…
“Aunt Sophie!” Elena’s four-year-old daughter, Madison, burst into the room and rushed over to the bed. “You’re getting married today.”
“We are. And you’re going to be the best flower girl ever,” Justin said in the perfect avuncular tone, warm but not condescending. He’d be a great father, Sophie thought with a pang of regret.
“My dress is so pretty. I can’t wait to see yours.” The little girl was starting to crawl in bed with them when Elena appeared and led her daughter back toward the guest room.
She gave Sophie a sly look. “I hope she didn’t disturb you. By the way, Mom and Dad said they’d come over from the hotel by eight. The appointment with the hairdresser is at nine, right?”
“Yeah,” Sophie said weakly, that now-familiar dread closing around her ribcage like a corset. She might not be a real Victorian bride, but apparently her sex life was still to be molded by forces beyond her control.
If she was making a terrible mistake, it was too late to turn back now.
The day went by so fast, Sophie almost forgot she was making a mistake. The wedding ceremony in the garden brought her to tears, but not because she was depressed about the upcoming drought in her bedroom. There was something strangely moving about declaring her love for Justin in front of so many beaming, overdressed people who really seemed to wish them the best in their life together. With the whirl of the reception and the after-party back at the house, the day slipped into evening. It was six o’clock before they managed to drive off to the charming bed-and-breakfast they’d booked for the first night of their honeymoon.
Only then, when Justin scooped her up and carried her over the threshold of their wine country cottage, did she remember this night was the beginning of the end of her erotic life.
Yet, far from being tired or disinterested, Justin immediately deposited her, with a meaningful wink, right in the middle of the four-poster bed. Then he stretched out beside her, pulling her close. “I’ve been looking forward to this part of the ceremony all day.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to turn in early? We have the rest of our lives to perform our marital duty.”
“Hell, no, not when you made me hold off for a whole week,” he blurted out, then remembered his manners. “Sorry, sweetie, I know you didn’t sleep so well last night. If you want to go to bed early, it’s okay with me,” he lied politely.
Although she’d hardly slept, eaten, or drunk anything in the past twenty-four hours, Sophie’s body was tingling with a strange excitement. “Well, we’re supposed to consummate the marriage as quickly as possible—to make it legal.”
Justin frowned. “Speaking of the proper formalities, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Sophie’s pulse leaped. The ink on the marriage license was barely dry and things were going sour already. “What is it, honey?”
“I was looking at that checklist from your bride guide this morning, and it said I was supposed to buy you a wedding gift. Pearls or something. I didn’t get anything, but if there’s something you want…”
“I didn’t get you anything either. They recommended cufflinks or a watch for you. Very 1950s.” She turned and cupped her hand around the erection tenting his khakis. “But this is something I wouldn’t mind getting all wrapped up with a bow.”
“It’s all yours. If I can have this
.” He slipped his hand under her going-away skirt and patted her mons. “I promise I’ll take very good care of it.”
She laughed. “It’s a deal.”
Justin’s fingers began to stroke her through her panties.
“Of course, in the old days, you would have owned me,” she murmured, her legs falling open. “And I’d have come to you a virgin. This would be the very first time we did anything but hold hands.”
“If this were the first time I was touching you, I’d probably come in my pants just doing this,” Justin said softly. With his free hand, he reached over and began unbuttoning her blouse.
“But you wouldn’t be a virgin. Your uncle would have taken you to a house of ill repute to break you in. So you could break me in.”
“I didn’t know you were such an old-fashioned girl at heart.” Justin finished with the buttons and eased the blouse over her shoulders. Was she imagining a new possessiveness in his touch?
“I’m glad I’m not a virgin,” she continued, “but there’s still something sexy about having your wedding night be the first time.”
He hooked a hand around her bare shoulder and pulled her body toward him, coaxing her to straddle his belly. Unsnapping her bra with an expert hand, he pulled it down over her arms. The steely gleam in his eyes as he stared at her naked breasts was definitely new.
“I’m glad it’s not our first time,” he said.
“Why?”
Justin looked her straight in the eye, and for an instant Sophie did feel possessed, owned. Yet at the same time her body was strangely free and buoyant.
“Because I know you’re going to enjoy it,” he said firmly. “I know I’m going to make you come.”
“Oh, god,” she whispered, a hot wave of arousal fanning up from her pussy up through her chest. Then she cried out again, “Oh, god, sorry about that.”
“What?”
“This has never happened before. I sort of, well, flooded my panties. I’m just so…turned on. The way you’re talking…”
Justin’s finger burrowed under the elastic of her underwear and came out glistening. Smiling mischievously, he anointed her stiff nipple with her own moisture.
She squirmed and bit her lip.
“I see you like it when I talk dirty and rub your own juices on your tits,” he said, his voice husky.
Sophie felt another release between her legs. Her arousal had never been so obvious—or copious. “Sorry, again,” she stammered, “I think we’re both drenched now.”
“Then let’s get out of these wet things. I want you naked anyway,” he replied. There was definitely a new confidence in his tone, as if her obedience was expected and required.
Of course, Sophie wanted to be naked, too. She quickly unfastened her skirt, slithered out of her soaking underwear. Justin was out of his khakis and briefs in record time. With a shiver of embarrassment, she noticed the circle of moisture she’d deposited on his fly.
Her husband pulled her onto his belly again, his hard cock nudging up against her ass. “Now rub your wet pussy against me. Make it happen again.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You’re my wife now, Sophie. You have to do what I say in bed. And it’s not just that piece of paper. You yourself gave me your pussy as a gift. So I want it to drool all over my stomach to show me how turned on you are.”
Sophie wanted to do as he asked, but her body’s strange new response was really beyond her control. Still, it was her duty to try her best to satisfy her husband’s carnal appetites. And so she began to grind her swollen lips against his belly, in an effort to produce another mysterious effusion of desire.
Justin grabbed her ass and squeezed hard. “I like it that you’re so horny you have to masturbate on me, but I’m not sure if you’re trying hard enough. Do I have to spank you to get you to obey? Now that you’re mine, I can punish you when you don’t please me.”
Sophie stiffened as if she’d actually been struck. In an instant, a fresh puddle of her hot juices pooled onto his belly.
Justin arched back into the mattress. “Fuck, I love that. How do you do that?”
“You’re doing it to me. It’s you,” Sophie admitted.
“You like this, huh?”
“Yes, but I like you inside me even more. Mind if I climb on?”
He’d never turned down such a request before, but tonight Justin merely narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you know a proper woman waits for her husband to decide these matters? Besides, when we lie together as man and wife for the first time, you’ll be beneath me, where you belong. Do you understand?”
Sophie opened her mouth to protest—where the hell did he get off spouting this patriarchal shit anyway?—but her complaint turned to a helpless whimper as she felt another gush below.
“I understand,” she said, her eyes lowered meekly.
“Then lie on your back and bring your knees up to your chest so your sopping pussy will be nice and tight.”
Trembling, Sophie complied. She felt so naked and exposed, holding her knees open for him, uncertain what rough, domineering treatment awaited. And yet her body seemed to trust him. Every fiber of her being shivered with delicious anticipation.
Justin knelt between her legs, his eyes surveying her. “I’m going to consummate our marriage now. Then you’ll be mine.” His tone was gruff rather than loving, but at that moment Sophie felt her chest wrench open, as if he’d reached in and tugged on her heart. As she waited breathlessly, her husband took his dick in his hand and rocked forward. But he didn’t slide it in. Instead he pressed the head of his cock against her clit. She moaned. Justin rubbed her with his tool, like a big, swollen finger, claiming her there first. She was so wet, his penis slipped over her slick flesh with a faint, slurping sound.
“Please, take me,” she choked out.
On the next stroke, he guided his cock to her hole and buried himself to the hilt.
They groaned in unison.
He began to move, slowly, pressing tight against her to give her the friction she needed.
“You belong to me now and I’m going to make you come,” he hissed in her ear.
Another gush of wetness glazed the crack of her ass. Justin’s balls slapped against her cleft as he drove into her, stimulating the tender flesh. He took her nipple in his mouth and sucked hard.
Tying the knot—those words had scared her, confused her, but that’s just how Sophie felt now, deliciously tied and tangled, her legs twisted around his ass, a knot of lust throbbing low in her belly. With each thrust, Justin seemed to push deeper, conquering unknown territory. Because no one had ever touched her this way before, not even the sweet Justin she’d watched sleeping that very morning. No one had ever opened her so completely—her cunt, her heart, her head all at once—to expose yearnings secret even to herself.
“Come for me, Sophie,” he panted. “I order you to come right now.”
Dutiful wife that she was, she bucked up against him—one, two, three more times—and then she was coming, wracking spasms that burst from her throat in a shriek. Justin planted his hands on the bed and reared up, his hips pounding her like a porn star as he announced his own climax with a series of low grunts.
He fell forward and they clutched each other, their bodies still heaving. They were so close she could feel his heart pounding in her own chest.
“I’m not sure what came over me just now,” Justin confessed. “I hope that lord-and-master talk wasn’t a mistake.”
“No way. I think I left a wet spot on this bed the size of California.” She moved her lips to his ear and added in a whisper, “You bossy bastard. That was super hot.”
“You’re hot, baby. God, I’m lucky. I have the sexiest wife in the world.” He rolled onto his back and they snuggled together, her head on his shoulder, their legs twined together.
Sophie smiled. She had made a terrible mistake—spending the whole day worrying her sex life would be ruined by a piece of paper. But tonight she learned it c
ould be a passport to new possibilities.
ANOTHER TRICK UP MY SLEEVE
Heidi Champa
“Are you sure about this, Daisy?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
His arms were fixed to the bed frame with two old ties, and I was decked out in the vinyl outfit I had hand-picked with his specifications in mind. Now that the moment had finally arrived, he seemed underwhelmed, and I was starting to sweat in the tight-fitting black plastic. He rolled his eyes and sighed, his back collapsing against the bed, his muscles loose. I was starting to get discouraged. But, I pressed on, banging my pink leather riding crop against my open hand. Blake didn’t look scared, and there was absolutely no desire in his eyes. My back, which I had been holding straight in an attempt to look authoritative and sexy, started to droop. None of this was going how I thought it would.
“Blake, I thought you were into this, what is the problem?”
He squirmed against his ties, but not in the way I was hoping. He tried to sit up but couldn’t, and had to settle for an odd, reclined position that almost made me laugh.
“I don’t know Daisy, I just don’t really feel like it tonight.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and dropped my fetching whip on the floor. My knee-high patent leather boots were staring to hurt my feet, and I felt more ridiculous than I ever had before.
“This is all your fault, you know that Blake!”
“I know, baby. I know.”
It was an offhand remark after a silly night of playing the game “I Never” with some friends. It wasn’t meant to be an insult, or at least that is what he said after the fact. There was no maliciousness in his words; he’d spoken them matter-of-factly as he pulled the car into the driveway.
“I think our sex life has gotten boring.”
I didn’t necessarily disagree with him, but I was quick to point out all the crazy things we had done in the past. When we first got together, our nonstop sex sessions were the stuff of legend, and we could hardly keep our hands off each other. I was confident that our sex life was anything but boring. But, Blake was just as quick to point out that our last truly adventurous tryst had been years before. As much as I hated to admit it, the sad fact was, he was right. He stopped short of saying we were in a rut, but I read between the lines. Adventure and lust had been replaced by comfort and our daily routine, which sadly didn’t have much room for sex. I always thought it was just a natural part of being together for a long time. I didn’t want to admit that I wasn’t all that thrilled about our bedroom life either, but in my heart I knew. He didn’t say anything more that night, but his words had sent me on a mission. And, that mission was never to be boring in bed again.
Best Erotic Romance Page 3
