by Rebel Rose
“I do when it’s what she needs from me. Honestly, getting to do it both ways keeps things fresh.”
“You and I are the same age, and you’re married now with a baby on the way. I’m suddenly feeling as though I’m very behind in life.”
“I thought you weren’t interested in marriage and kids.”
“I wasn’t until I saw how happy you were with Emma Lia. And now it’s got me wondering if I could ever share something like that with someone and be happy.”
“I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know that I’ve never been happier than I am right now.” I look over at Emma Lia talking with Avery, and her laughter carries across the room to my ears. Nothing brings me more happiness than her smile and laughter. “I love that woman so fucking much. I would do anything just to see her smile.”
“I’m going to talk to Emma Lia about Avery and feel out the situation. See if she has made any comments about her thoughts on it.”
“You should. I like Avery. She’s a nice girl.”
“Fuck, I haven’t been with a nice girl since… ever. I don’t know if I can do nice.”
“Nice doesn’t equate to dull. Emma Lia is a nice girl, and she fucks like a savage. But she also makes vanilla one of the most incredible experiences of my life. It’s not something I could do all of the time, but hell… sometimes I want it more than I want D/s sex.
“Are you fucking with me?”
“Dominance and vanilla. I get the best of both worlds with my girl.”
“I didn’t know that there was a world that was comparable to the world of dominance.”
“I didn’t know it existed either, but it does with the right woman. And it’s worth trying if you ever get the opportunity.”
Easton looks over at Avery. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-two, I assume. She and Emma Lia have been best friends for years. I believe they were in the same grade in school.”
“We’re in fucking Hawaii. I’m just gonna go for it and see what happens.”
I slap my best friend on the back. “Do it, man.”
46
Emma Lia Grant
Our wedding night. Let me repeat that so there’s no confusion. Our. Wedding. Night.
I still can’t believe that I am married to Tristan Broussard. My Dom husband. I didn’t know that those two things could go together, and I damn sure didn’t know that you could throw a baby into the mix and have everything, but we do.
Dom. Husband. Father. Tristan is a multifaceted man.
My God, how I love this man!
Tristan steps closer, a familiar heat igniting in his gaze. “Turn around, mon bien-aimé, and let’s get you out of this.”
He works on what feels like far too many buttons on the back of my wedding dress. His fingers brush against the bare skin on my back, and he kisses the curvature of my upper back between my shoulder blades, making my body quake.
“My wife, Mrs. Broussard.”
“No more role-playing. I’m the real thing now.”
“Yes, you are, and you always will be. I will always take care of you, spoil you, make sure you never want for anything in your life. You and our children.”
I am a strong woman. I’ve never needed anyone to take care of me, but there is something so damn sexy about the way that Tristan insists on being our protector. “I know that you will always take care of us.”
I turn around, holding the top of my dress at my breasts and his eyes gleam darker. He may be vowing to always take care of me, but at this particular moment, he also wants to devour me.
His mouth presses to mine. “I’m eager to take my wife for the first—no, second—time.”
And this wife is eager to be taken by her husband for the second time.
“Well, your wife has something special to put on for you.” I get to surprise him with a piece of lingerie that he didn’t choose for me.
He kisses the side of my face and releases me but not before swatting my ass. “Don’t linger, Mrs. Broussard. Your husband is an impatient man.”
“Yes, Husband.”
“Fuck, I love hearing that.”
“Shall I address you as Husband instead of Master tonight?”
“Yes. I would like that very much.”
I look over my shoulder at Tristan before entering the bathroom. “I won’t be long.”
I close the bathroom door and look at myself in the mirror, trying to decide if my hair should stay up or come down? Down, I think. Tristan likes when it spreads on the bed, and I expect to be on my back tonight. I can’t imagine spending my wedding night on my hands and knees getting fucked from behind. But then again, this is Tristan. Who knows with him?
Allowing my wedding dress to drop to the floor, I step out and hang it on the back of the door. I slip into the ivory silk baby-doll gown with a silk bow holding it together between the breasts. I work to evenly tie the bows of the matching nearly nothing panties over each hip. It’s a little trickier than one might think.
The sleek fabric feels exquisite against my skin. Just the light abrasion of it touching my sensitive nipples makes them instantly harden. My skin is tingling as I imagine his mouth licking me. His hands worshipping me. His cock stretching me. Everything between my nipples and knees has become ultra-sensitive.
Removing the pins from my hair, it falls into loose curls over my shoulders. I flip my head over, run my fingers through it at the roots, and fluff it a little before flipping my head up again, smoothing the few unruly tresses.
I’m ready.
I giggle inside when I find Tristan standing by the bed wearing only his hugely tented boxer briefs. “Someone is eager.”
“Eager is an understatement.”
I run my hands down the front of my gown. “Do you approve?”
“It’s perfect, mon bien-aimé. I’ve never seen you look more stunning.” He comes closer and circles me, inspecting me from every angle. “I am so fucking lucky to have a wife as sexy as you.” He wraps his arms around me from behind and his mouth hovers over my ear. “A wife who will allow me to do anything I want to her because she places all of her trust in me.”
Although I crave Tristan’s darkness, there is always a trace of fear in the forefront of my mind. My husband can be unpredictable and thoughts of what he has in mind for our wedding night initiates a warm throb between my thighs.
“Hearing your vows today… it awakened something in me.”
Nervous anticipation increases the speed of my pounding heart, and as I stand motionless and waiting to see what will come next, a soft cloth covers my eyes. A blindfold, I realize. And I suddenly feel vulnerable when I recall what happened the last time my vision was restricted in the bedroom.
I reach up to push the blindfold away, and Tristan catches my wrist, his hand wrapping around it like a steel cuff. “Leave it on, wife.”
“You violated my trust the last time you blindfolded me in the bedroom.”
“And I plan to violate you tonight, mon bien-aimé, but I promise that you’ll approve this time.”
His promise excites and frightens me at the same time. “It’s just that I’m not sure—”
“Shush, mon bien-aimé.” His dominant voice resonates through me, intensifying the quivering need between my legs. “Don’t think about anything beyond the feel of what I’m doing to you.”
His iron grip around my wrist lessens, and he guides me to the bed. “Lie on your stomach.”
I obey, my breath deepening, as he moves his hands over my body, starting with my shoulders and ending with my thighs. His touch is gentle, relaxing even, and much appreciated after our long day.
“Turn over onto your back, mon bien-aimé.”
Again, I obey, and he positions me to his liking with a pillow beneath my head and my hair spilling around me. I know because I can feel him spreading it.
He grips my arm, pulling it out as though spreading a bird’s wing, and binds my wrist with what feels like rope. When my first wrist is bo
und, he walks around the bed and does the same with my other arm. I’m stretched and bound like a sexual sacrifice for my husband on our wedding night. The physical restraint, plus the restriction of my vision, leaves me feeling completely at his mercy, which is both unnerving and electrifying.
Other couples get to pretend this is their life during a sexy escapade and then return to their normal lives, but this is who we are all of the time. I am his submissive wife. I am his to do with as he pleases—because I have chosen to give him my submission forever. Tristan sees that for the beautiful gift that it is.
His fingers stroke the dip at my throat. “Tell me your thoughts on being collared now that we are husband and wife.”
“I wear your ring because you are my husband. I wear your collar because you are my Dominant. They are two separate things. Although both fuse us together as one, the ring doesn’t trump the collar and the collar doesn’t trump the ring.”
He sighs, trailing his finger down the center of my body until it reaches the top of my silk panties. “I was hoping you would say that. I don’t like your not wearing my collar. Because you are my property. You’re all mine, aren’t you, wife?”
“Yes, Husband.” My breath deepens as his fingers skim back and forth over the skin above my panties, teasing me.
“And this sweet little slit that’s hidden by these silk panties?”
“It’s between my legs, but it belongs to you. All of it.”
The mattress dips and I feel his weight on the bed between my legs. “That’s right, mon bien-aimé. I’m the only one who will ever have you. I wouldn’t hesitate to kill any man who thought he might take you from me.”
Tristan’s possessive words might frighten some women, but they make me feel loved and cherished.
“I don’t want anyone but you.”
Tristan’s weight on the mattress dips lower on the bed, and he grasps one of my feet, stretching my leg to the side. I’m lying there with my heart pounding as though it’s trying to escape my body when the rope, or whatever it is, loops around my ankle. Tristan binds one leg and then the other to the bed, same as my arms.
I try to lift my arms and legs, but Tristan has been meticulous with my restraints. My movement has never been restricted to this degree. I almost panic for a moment, but I remind myself that this is my husband. Anything that he does to me while I’m this way is for his and my pleasure.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Anything that I want, mon bien-aimé.”
He can say that, but it’s not exactly the truth. He’ll be tamer than he likes to be because of my pregnancy. Of that, I’m certain.
Pleasure and pain. I have learned that with Tristan, you don’t receive one without the other when doing a Dom-sub scene. And I’ve also learned that I like it that way. I crave the pain as much as he yearns to inflict it.
Tristan pushes the front of my gown up and drags his tongue over my stomach, leaving a cool, damp trail on my skin. I tense in response, my inner muscles clenching as his tongue barely dips into the front of my panties.
I try unsuccessfully to lift my hips. “Lower…” I whisper.
His long arm stretches upward and two of his fingers push into my mouth. “Quiet, mon bien-aimé. Your husband isn’t taking orders tonight.”
Tonight? Who is he kidding? My husband never takes orders.
I suck his fingers the same way I suck his cock, and he groans before pulling them from my mouth. “Fuck, you know how to work that little mouth of yours. But lucky for you, I know how to work mine too.”
I lie still, waiting, my breathing fast and shallow as I anticipate what Tristan will do next. And then I feel his hand between my breasts pulling on the bow holding my gown together. “Mmm… I love how easily this is coming off.”
My gown opens and Tristan grips my breasts, thumbing my nipples. His mouth covers one and he sucks it hard. I want to moan, arch my back, push my fingers into his hair, but I’m helpless. I can’t do anything but bear what he does to me.
His moves lower and kisses the space over one of my hip bones. “Hmm… I wonder what happens if I pull on this.”
The fabric loosens over each hip, and he pulls my panties away so that I’m completely bare. I hear the sound of air sucking in and then a deep, throaty growl. “Fuuuck. Mrs. Broussard, I believe that I have been doing myself an injustice by not allowing you to choose your own lingerie. You have excellent taste indeed.”
There’s the slightest touch to the lower part of my opening, and I can feel his finger sliding around through the wetness. Playing.
“Already so wet.” His voice is low and thick with lust, making me burn even hotter for his touch.
I tilt my hips up slightly and he swats my pussy, not hard but still enough to get my attention. “Tell me who is in control, wife.”
“You are in control, Husband. Always.”
“That’s right.”
His hand cups me between my legs, and he rubs as if to soothe away the sting that his swat might have caused. One of his fingers curls around my pussy and toys with my aching clit, escalating my desperate need. It’s torture of the sweetest kind, and I need so much more from Tristan.
I feel the mattress dip when he moves again, and I wait to see where he’s going this time. It feels as though his weight settles between my legs, and I know I’m right when his facial hair scrapes against my inner thighs as he moves into position.
I feel his warm breath against my ultra-sensitive folds, and then his fingers spread apart my slit, making room for his wet tongue to push into my hole. The pressure of his tongue sliding against the bundle of nerves inside of my pussy is satisfying, but it also deepens my need for more. I want so badly to lift my hips and rock with Tristan, but I don’t dare to.
The build is slower this way, agonizingly so, but the pleasure grows inside my pelvis. It’s like a balloon being blown up one breath a time until it reaches its full capacity. His mouth closes around my clit, sucking, and the balloon of ecstasy explodes.
My entire body tenses, pulling on the ropes, and the whole bed shakes. “Ohhh…”
I lie there content and blissful when the contractions in my pelvis and pulsation in my pussy stop. I may even be a little orgasm-drunk when he crawls on top of me, and his large muscular body settles between my legs. Despite the intense pleasure that just rocked me to my core, I want more of this man. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.
Tristan is naked, and I can feel his erection between my thighs. My inclination is to spread my legs wider, invite him inside of me, but that isn’t possible with my restraints.
He shifts on top of me, adjusting the weight of his body, and the tip of his erection rubs against the lips of my pussy. I’m wet and slick so he slides in easily when he pushes his cock inside of me.
He lowers his lips to mine for a kiss and devours my moan when he pulls back and pushes into me again. He moves faster, his thrusts deep and rhythmic as his cock stretches my inner walls. “You feel even tighter with your legs restrained like this.”
One would think that this position wouldn’t be satisfying, but they’d be wrong. Tristan’s thick cock is actually hitting just the right spot every time he thrusts inside of me. And it isn’t long until the pleasure rises and explodes inside of me again.
A deep, resonant moan is expelled from Tristan’s chest. “Your pussy is squeezing my cock so fucking good.”
Tristan stops moving inside of me and presses a kiss to my mouth. He pushes the blindfold away and our eyes connect. “I love you, Mrs. Broussard.”
“And I love you, Mr. Broussard.”
He places another kiss against my mouth and then releases my arms and legs from their bondage. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close into his embrace. “Are you tired, love?”
It’s been a long day. Well, it’s been a long two days. Tristan did a great job of pulling our wedding together but it’s still been exhausting. “Yes. Baby Broussard and I are tired.”
&nb
sp; Tristan smiles and moves down my body until his face is hovering over my stomach. “How is my little son or daughter?”
“Happy, I hope.”
Tristan rubs his hand over my stomach. “I can’t wait until you have a baby bump.”
“You aren’t going to be disgusted when I get bigger?”
“Fuck no. You have a part of me growing inside of you, and nothing is sexier than that, baby.”
“You’re probably going to have a pregnancy fetish.”
“Maybe.” He rubs his hand in a circle below my navel before looking up at me. “This could have easily gone the other way. You could have been so angry that you never wanted to see me again. You could have aborted the baby because you didn’t want to be tied to me forever.”
“I could never do that.”
“I’m going to give you the world, mon bien-aimé. You and our children. You’re never going to spend a single day regretting your decision to be my wife.”
“I love you, Tristan. There was never another option.”
47
Tristan Broussard
It’s after midnight. I’ve kept my pregnant wife out later than I should have, but she was having so much fun at the club. I hated to be the one to end her good time.
I couldn’t have asked for Emma Lia to transition into the lifestyle and my Dom world more beautifully. She is a natural submissive. My natural submissive. I knew it the minute my eyes landed on her, and I wasn’t wrong.
I’d love nothing more than to keep her at home all to myself, but she’s young. At twenty-three, she still needs to get out and have fun. And her going-out days will be coming to an end soon enough since the baby is due to arrive any day now.
My wife enjoys going to the club despite occasionally running into Claudia there. Emma Lia hasn’t been overly forgiving of what my former submissive tried to do, but I blame myself for Claudia’s difficulty in letting go. I handled the end of my relationship with her poorly because I was incredibly selfish. I couldn’t see it then because I wanted what I wanted when I wanted it. But in the end, it has worked out for the best. Claudia and Jacob are happy together. He questioned me tonight about my marriage and expressed an interest in marrying Claudia. I think that would make her very happy. A permanent Dom would be good for her.
