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Chapter Two
Amanda stared at her husband for a full ten seconds. Surely he wasn’t asking her to do what she thought he was asking her to do? She kept waiting for him to laugh, tell her he was just kidding, then climb on the bed and fuck her, but he didn’t. He just stared back at her, one dark eyebrow raised in hisI’m waitinglook, and she realized with a hard clutch in her gut that he was absolutely serious.
He’d never asked her to perform for him before. Okay, so every time they did role play it was kind of a performance, but that was different. That was a role, an act, and he was usually acting right along with her. This was her, and it was him, and even after fourteen years together—twelve of them married—the idea of putting herself on display for him made her feel nearly faint with embarrassment.
Which didn’t make sense. It wasn’t as though he’d never seen her naked or on display before—of course he had. When they played, when they fucked… Over the years he’d seen every part of her body, in nearly every state it could be in. He’d mopped up her vomit when she was sick, helped her use the toilet when she’d thrown out her back… It was impossible to be with someone for so long and not have the ‘or worse’ part of ‘for better or worse’ pop up now and then.
But none of that had made her feel like this, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
The look in his eyes said she’d be doing as she was told, unless she used her safeword. She would if she needed to—he knew that, trusted that—but she didn’t. She just needed to find a way past the stunned shock that he was really going to sit on the bench at the foot of their bed, the one she’d had reupholstered in deep gray when they’d redecorated, and watch her masturbate.
His eyes glittered, his expression clear in the bright lights. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
She was shaking her head automatically before the words had fully registered. Making James repeat himself was always a bad idea, and she tried to avoid it whenever possible, but she just couldn’t seem to push through the quagmire of her thoughts to obey.
“No, Sir,” she managed, her voice a ragged squeak.
“Then do as you’re told.”
Her hand was moving, obeying almost without her direction, bringing the dildo between her spread thighs. It had cooled, and she flinched at the first touch of it against her heated flesh, bumping her clit before sliding lower, through the soft, slick folds to her opening.
She dropped her gaze, unable to bear looking him directly in the eye for one more second, but the view between her thighs did nothing to cool either her embarrassment or her desire. The view was blurry without her glasses, but she could see enough. Her pussy was pink and wet, the folds flowered open to reveal her hard clit and the darker pink of her opening. She wished she was lying flat, without the pillows propping her up, because then she wouldn’t have to see it, the purple of the dildo’s molded head almost garishly bright next to her engorged flesh.
“Put it in,” James said.
She did, holding her breath. It parted her inner lips, pushing through to the hole that waited, aching and empty.Hole, she thought again, the simple word somehow so fucking filthy that just thinking it brought a new flush of heat to her cheeks and a new rush of wetness to her cunt, and the dildo slipped inside.
“There you go,” he said, his voice hard and impersonal, as though he were describing some detail of architecture on an old church, except he’d probably sound excited about architecture. “All the way.”
She bit her lip and obeyed, working the toy as deep as it could go. She was wet, but the toy was thick and curved, and it took a while to get it into place. Her hand was wrapped around the flared base, fingers pressed into her swollen pussy, and she wiggled to get the last half inch seated. It was lewd and vulgar and so goddamn sexy, and even though the sight was slightly fuzzy without her glasses, she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
“Look at me.”
Only the hard note of command in his voice could’ve pulled her away from the mesmerizing display. She looked up immediately to find him watching her with that icy, impersonal stare.
Which, to her astonishment, made her pussy clench on the dildo.Hard.
“That’s a greedy fucking hole,” he said, his eyes locked on her pussy, his voice mild and matter of fact, as though he were discussing the weather or how he was thinking of buying a new sweater. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she whispered, so turned on that pushing the word out felt like a herculean task.
“Say it.”
“It’s a greedy fucking hole,” she parroted, shame breaking over her in a hot wave even as her pussy clenched again.
“Who has a greedy fucking hole?” he asked, still discussing the weather.
Her voice was an agonized whisper. “I do.”
“Spread your legs wider,” he said, and she did, fighting to breathe through the embarrassment. “Wider,” he said again, and she brought up her knees and spread her thighs, a small whimper escaping when the dildo shifted inside her.
“You like that slutty hole stuffed full, don’t you?” he said, his mild tone giving the words an unexpected punch. “You going to come?”
She whimpered again, shocked to realize how close she was to getting off. She hadn’t touched her clit, wasn’t moving the dildo in and out, the friction she normally needed to get there absent, and yet she could feel the orgasm coming. Her pussy throbbed, her nipples pulsed in the clamps, and James’ impersonal stare made her whimper once more.
“Do it.” He lifted his eyes from her stuffed cunt to her face, his expression almost blank, his gaze like flint. “You wanted to come, so do it. Come like the horny, cock-hungry slut you are. Put your fingers on that clit and rub it until you fucking come.”
She obeyed, holding the dildo in place with one hand and moving the other to her clit, her eyes locked on his face. He sat on the bench, calm and unmoved by her ragged breathing or the way she jerked when her fingertips brushed her clit, his gaze not even flickering. He leaned forward, with his forearms resting on his thighs and his hands dangling between them, relaxed and loose as though he was just waiting for a bus that was late, slightly irritated by the inconvenience of it all.
