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I snatched the vodka back, took a long slug, and slammed the bottle down on the counter, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I stalked over to the couch, standing in front of it, facing away from Dornan as I hitched my dress up to my hips. I hooked my fingers into my white panties and tugged them down, bending at the waist until they reached my ankles. Then, without kicking off my patent heels, I turned, sat my ass down on the couch, and spread my legs, bracing my feet against the edge of the cushions.
Surprisingly, Dornan hadn’t moved from the minibar. I’d half expected him to grab me while I was bent and removing my panties, but it seemed my husband possessed restraint I wasn’t aware of. He’d left the vodka where it was, and selected a bottle of bourbon instead.
‘You have a very pretty cunt,’ he growled, squeezing his dick through his pants. His jaw was so tight, it looked like it might shatter if he clenched it any harder.
‘I know,’ I said, reaching down and spreading myself open for him to see. He let out a small growl in the back of his throat, his erection bulging through his pants, the black material stretched thin.
Something inside me broke mournfully apart as I realised the only way I’d be able to keep up this pretence would be to keep fucking Dornan until the very last minute. I didn’t know how I’d be able to do that, not after what he’d done and what he’d put me through, but I knew it was the only way to evade suspicion. To avoid being caught out.
I slipped one finger inside myself, sliding it back and forth in my wet heat.
‘You fuck yourself like that?’
I nodded, never breaking our gaze. In my peripheral vision, I saw him squeeze his cock, moving closer to me, the neck of the bourbon bottle still clutched tightly in his hand. I sank two fingers inside myself, letting out a small moan, surprised at how wet I was. How fucking aroused I was.
It wasn’t about sex, I realised. This was about power. Being the one in power was getting me off. Having Dornan in front of me, knowing all he wanted to do was throw himself on top of me and push into me until I broke in half, that was power. The fact that he hadn’t touched me yet, but continued to watch my bizarre little show, that was power.
‘You want a front row seat?’ I offered boldly. Kicking the edge of the coffee table in front of me to make room for his bulky frame, I pointed with my free hand. Dornan smirked, dropping the bottle onto the carpet with a heavy thud.
Taking three steps, he didn’t stop until he was standing above me. He sank to his knees in front of me, his eyes greedily taking in my wet pussy, my swollen clit, my nipples that peeked out of my plunging dress.
Grinning, Dornan stuck two fingers into his mouth, wetting them as he watched me fuck myself. He took hold of my wrist with one hand, pulling my own fingers away from myself, his own fingers braced to enter me.
‘Hey.’
He stopped, his fingers millimetres from my entrance. He looked dazed, as if the lust inside him was consuming him like a virus in his blood.
I took his wrists and guided his hands to my ankles. He wrapped his fingers around my flesh and squeezed.
‘Keep them there,’ I said, gazing into his dark eyes, shocked at how complicit he was being. ‘Don’t interrupt me, or I’ll never do this again.’
He squeezed my ankles in response, breathing heavily.
‘You’re so wet,’ he murmured. ‘I want to be inside you.’
He licked his lips as he stared at my slick pussy, and I could tell this was killing him. He was dying to press me into the couch and fuck me into oblivion.
Wasn’t going to happen.
I continued to massage my swollen bud with my fingers, using my free hand to reach down and tilt his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze.
‘Look at me,’ I breathed. ‘I have some things I want to say to you.’
He didn’t look away. I was impressed by his restraint. I took a deep breath, preparing to relive the horrors of the recent past.
‘You put life inside me,’ I whispered, continuing to rub myself. I squirmed under my own touch, so close to coming. He nodded, slowblinking.
‘You made me feel the worst pain imaginable,’ I breathed. I felt my words leak out of me, a confession of sorts, and settle upon him. They entered him, soaking into his soul. He wasn’t trying to make me stop talking. He was hanging on my every word, my every hitched gasp, my every touch as I brought myself to the brink of orgasm in front of him.
‘You put life inside me,’ I said, lifting my hips slightly as I slowed my fingers. If I didn’t settle down, I was going to come before he’d paid his penance at all. ‘You put life inside of me, and you turned it into death.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered, his expression so fucking anguished, so fucking bereft, that it took everything inside myself not to stop and pull him onto me, into me, to sate his sadness and his regret with my body, the same dance we had danced for a decade.
‘What do you want?’ I breathed, writhing as I continued to slowly finger-fuck myself. ‘You want to fuck me? You want to come inside me?’
He nodded, his eyes hooded with lust as he stared, mesmerised, at what I was doing to myself. He took one hand away from my ankle and used it to pull his dick out of his pants, squeezing it until his knuckles turned red.
‘Too bad,’ I whispered, withdrawing my fingers from my pussy and pressing them into his mouth. He sucked them until it hurt, getting every single drop of me from my skin. ‘You want to fuck me? You earn it.’
