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He continues, "You've been a bad wife. It's time you remembered who your husband is and stop ignoring me. Now, tell me how much you want your punishment." He circles my clit so fast I get dizzy.
I cry out, "Pu-pun… Oh God! Please let me come, Sir!"
He barks, "No! You're not coming until after you've received your punishment."
"Rig...oh..."
He covers my mouth with his, sliding his tongue against mine and urgently flicking it.
There's no point in fighting him. I want it as much as he does. I've missed everything about how we were, and I've never been able to not return Riggs's kisses.
He swirls his thumb faster while mimicking the same move inside me, curling his finger from time to time.
Heat annihilates me and sweat pops out on my skin. His kisses become more intense, more needy. Or maybe that's my reaction to him.
He dips his mouth to the curve of my neck and slides his palm over my mouth. He sucks so hard that I'll have a mark, but I miss those too. The proof that he was consumed with my body and I was his to do with what he wanted.
I whimper underneath him, trying not to release, fully into submission without even thinking about it. But that's what Riggs does to me. He turns me into his obedient woman without me fighting it. And even though my body quivers, I'm not over the edge. So I continue holding back, but I don't know how much longer I can. We've fixed nothing between us, yet not one ounce of my body wants to disobey and disappoint him.
He removes his hand from my mouth. He kisses me again, then stops his fingers from manipulating me. He retreats an inch from my lips and states, "When you get home tonight, you'll put on the outfit on your bed. You'll kneel by the window in my room. And you'll wait for me to punish you."
Our heavy breathing is the only sound in the room. I blink a few times and finally realize what I'm doing.
"No. We shouldn't—" I start.
He covers my mouth with his hand again. "You're my wife. You'll obey me. Don't fight me on this."
He pulls his hand out of my pants, then shoves his fingers into his mouth and sucks on them while continuing to hold his palm over my lips.
My heart never slows. The throbbing between my legs doesn't lessen.
He leans into my ear and orders, "You're not allowed to touch your pussy and get off without my permission. Don't forget it."
My whisper cracks when I reply, "You're such an ass."
His lips curl in satisfaction. He adds, "If you need it now, then strip. Sit on the desk, press your heels on the edge of the wood, and play with yourself. I'll allow it."
I shoot him a dirty look but contemplate it, then reprimand myself.
Satisfaction flares in his face. He pecks me on the lips, rolls off me, and says nothing. He strolls into his suite.
I sit up and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I shouldn't be doing anything with him, and the more time that passes, the angrier I become. I march into the other room, declaring, "Nothing is happening tonight. You can't just act like everything is fine."
He grunts. "I'm fully aware we aren't fine. But I'm your husband. I know what is best for you, and continuing to stay away from me isn't happening."
"It's not your choice," I claim.
"Want to make a bet?" he retorts.
"And how selfish of you to do this on the night I'm about to take the stage for the first time!" I accuse.
He stands taller and smiles, making my gut sink.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
He stays calm, but cockiness shines all over him. "You still feel nervous?"
"What?"
