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“Well, either way, you were doing a hell of a job, my sexy captor. So let me show you just how much I appreciate your willingness to fulfill my naughty little dream,” I tell him, and I sit up on my knees enough so I can grip his rock-hard cock and align it with my still-dripping entrance.
He grabs my hips with his huge hands as I start to lower myself, the tendons in his neck protruding slightly at the amount of control he puts forth, allowing me to be the one on top, the one to give him pleasure. He’s made it his life’s mission to lavish me with physical love, and while I love and crave his dominance, thrive on it, in this moment, I just want to show him with my body how much I desire him.
I sink onto his cock, impaling myself to a depth that steals my breath. The wide crown of him butts up against my cervix, his girth stretching me to a point that still stings, even with how wet I am.
“Fuck, Astrid. You’re so goddamn tight. How are you still so tight after all these years of trying to break you in?” he hisses toward the ceiling, his eyes rolling back in pure bliss.
I grin, unable to help myself. “Especially after we specifically asked the doctor to leave out the husband stitch.”
This startles a bark of a laugh out of my dreamy spouse, making his dick flex inside me, making me moan. “Yeah.” His eyes sparkle as they open and he looks up at me. “Did you see the way she glanced at my crotch when you asked her that right after you just had my baby?”
My nostrils flare, and my eyes narrow as I flex my fingers bracing on his pecs, digging my nails into his flesh there. He smirks at my spark of jealousy, acknowledging it with a lift of his brow before he bucks up into me once.
“As much as I love a little bit of pain, you can retract those claws, goddess,” he tells me, letting go of my hips to take hold of my hands, lacing his fingers through mine before bringing them up to press on either side of his head, as if I’m the one holding him down. “You’re the only woman in the world I’d let ride my cock, baby. So why don’t you show me what you’ve got.”
I know he says this because he’s constantly impressed by how much strength I have in my legs from my barre and dance classes. In the beginning of our relationship, I couldn’t even climb a flight of stairs without almost dying. Now, I can squat double my body weight. And I use those muscles I’ve worked my ass off for, to show him just how good letting me be on top can be.
I rock against him, swiveling my hips, bouncing on his dick, pulling out moves I can see are driving him closer and closer to the edge. His brow is pinched, his eyes switching between staring at our connection and closing as he groans. After several minutes of working us both into a frenzy, he seems to snap, unable to take anymore, and he flips us. Taking a hold of my knee, hooking it beneath his bicep, he drives into me with a force that takes my breath away. The sounds that fill the playroom then are so erotic my cheeks heat: our skin slapping together, my wetness quelching around his cock, our loud, panting breaths, my whimpers and his growls. It’s more than I can bear, and I come in an explosion that bows my back off the padded table. My orgasm sets his off, and Neil lets out a groan that reverberates off the black walls of Club Alias covered in every leather toy one could ever dream of.
He collapses on top of me, his face landing in the place between my neck and shoulder, his hot breaths matching my own as we try to come back to earth. It takes us a while, and when we finally do, he rolls off the table and scoops me into his arms, carrying me over to the huge throne-like chair against the far wall. He sits gingerly, cradling me against his broad chest, and starts to run his fingers through my hair the way he does when he helps me come back from subspace whenever we scene. Although this was a pretty vanilla encounter for what he and I are used to, I appreciate the closeness after our intense lovemaking. Nothing will ever come close to all the moments we spend in each other’s arms after sharing the most intimate pieces of ourselves with one another.
When I start to rouse, getting fidgety from sitting in the same spot for so long, he helps me sit up, turning my face by the chin to look into his eyes. “I love you, wife,” he tells me quietly, sincerely, and I melt into a puddle atop his lap.
