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“I didn’t hate it.” The soft confession rode her moans, a console full of mild surprise.
His muscles suddenly let go and he turned, putting his back against the shower. The shakes he often got after a session hit him, saying it was all real. He’d used his first time with his wife to dunk her in his filth and hold her down till he fucking got off. “You didn’t even orgasm,” he croaked. “I didn’t plan that, Cat. It just…you were begging me and you’re…I just wanted to give you what you begged for. And now I sound like a sick predator blaming the victim when I’m the one who deliberately brought you to that edge.”
“Stop,” she begged, forcing his face to hers. “I’m not a dumb duck,” she whispered. “I knew what was going on. I know this is a battle to do something different. Do you realize what you did?”
He stared at her, clueless and now curious with her smile.
She pulled him to her mouth and gave him little kisses. “You… had…an orgasm…” she said between pecks on his lips, “without…pain.”
Holy shit. He stared at her. “I did.” He was instantly suspicious. Anything with his sexuality had to be treated like a convicted felon on death row looking for escape opportunities.
“Isn’t thatamazing?” she scolded lightly, still pecking on his lips.
He realized he was ruining her moment. And it was surelyhermoment because she took credit for this suspect anomaly. He decided to be straight with her. “I want to celebrate that, but my shit doesn’t work so nicely.”
“What do you mean?”
He stroked her disappointed face and the wet hair along it. “Know first that anything that’s fucked up about me will never be about you. Anything good, yes, all you.”
“Well…thisis good?”
He kissed her nose and forehead then lips. “It does seem like it. But I know this thing. It’s cooperative if it means getting something it wants.” And that his addiction was okay with sadism was hardly a reason to rejoice since it was the faithful spouse of masochism. The two were equals in their own domains with one feeding off the other.
“Well…itcouldwant this?”
He slid his hands along her back and covered her cute ass, loving the beautiful look of hope in her eyes. Hope for him. And them. “It could,” he said, deciding to protect it. Feed it. “If anybody can break this cycle, it’s you, ma petite menou.” But really, she was too good. The wrong kind of good. He’d take advantage. And he’d continue pushing her boundaries. Till she was letting him do things that weren’t safe or saneorlegal. Most of all, he’d crave the delectableabsenceof her consent.
He pulled her pussy against his leg, ready to give her that orgasm she should’ve gotten. He froze when she winced in pain. “Fuck, you’re hurt,” he said, or remembered. Fucking moron.
“It’s a good kind of pain,” she whispered.
“Big G, run a lavender bath,” he called. “Set the temperature to accommodate open wounds,” he added. “Fuck.”
“Accommodating to your specifications.”
She tilted her head at him, her smile huge, confusing him. “Why are you happy?” he demanded, wanting her to be pissed at him.
“Because you’re beating yourself up for me.”
He scooped her up, cradling her in his arms and making his way to the filling tub.
“Mmmm, I love that smell.” She swung her lower legs and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her head on his chest. “I like when you carry me. I feel like a princess.”
“You are.”
“And you’re my dark prince?”
He sat her on the edge of the tub. “I’ll get something for pain.”
“No!” she cried with a laugh. “It’s notthatbad, lordy.”
“I’ll kiss it all better after you bathe.”
He chuckled at how her eyes widened, then filled with instant heat. “I can’t believe you’d do that.”
“Will,” he assured. “You’ve imagined it, I’m sure.” He climbed in the tub and sat, holding his hand out for her.
“You’re bathingwithme?” She climbed in and sat between his legs, hissing. “Ouch.”
