AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I won't lie. Anton Waters had a very nice cock, and I kind of hated him for it. Even flaccid, it looked thick and meaty, just the kind of cock you'd want to play with and coax into standing at attention. Even for the few seconds I stared at it, it twitched at me.
Okay, maybe I stared at it for more than a few seconds. Can you blame me?
With a hmph, I turned away and started to lather my skin. In Vegas it was still warm, and I was coated in a lovely layer of slimy residue from sweating before—and during and after—the wedding. Turning the entire force of my attention to the task, I rubbed vigorously and tried to ignore Anton.
Which proved to be hard to do when he reached out and pried the soap from my fingers.
“Ass!” I told him. I whirled around and stared him straight in the eye. “I was using that!”
He smiled at me, that faint smile again, but this time I thought I detected a hint of teasing behind it. “Why do it yourself when it's so much fun for someone else to do it for you?” he replied, and began to soap me up.
I didn't stop him. I liked his hands too much, and besides, I was tired, and his hands were nice.
Gently he lathered his hands and began to run them over my body. Even if I hadn't been crazily addicted to the way he fucked me, I would have appreciated the gentle massage he gave. His fingers seemed to know exactly where to go and what to do when they got there.
Slowly, gently, he smoothed soapy circles over my skin, digging his fingertips into the fleshy parts of my muscles that he ran across, letting them grind together, then relax under his touch. First he traveled down my arms, then up my stomach. Unwanted warmth gathered in my core, but I studiously ignored it, forcing myself to breathe deeply and slowly as he worked his way up, skirting my breasts. His palms cupped my shoulders, and he watched me intently.
“I could eat you up,” he said, his voice low and husky.
I knew he could. He would swallow me alive if I let him. And the frightening thing was that a part of me did want him to consume me. I just wanted to fall into him and let him carry me, let him screw me into incoherence, and then I wouldn't have to think any more. I could just be.
But what would I be afterward? And what would he make me into, when I could no longer resist?
“Why did you want a wife?” I asked him. My voice was loud and flat in the shower stall. The sound of the falling water deafened me. “It seems like you could just marry anyone you wanted.”
“Of course I could,” he said. He seemed utterly fascinated by the way the water ran over my breasts. His big, warm palms slipped from my shoulders and migrated over my back while I tri
ed not to melt. “It was simply cleaner this way.”
“Cleaner?”
He moved in, the heat of his body rolling from his skin. “Marriage is a legal contract,” he said. “I wanted a woman who would enter into it as such with me. I don't require love. Simply a companion. It seemed unfair to ask someone who wanted to fall in love to fulfill the role.”
That brought me up short, planting a wiggle of worry in my stomach. I did want to fall in love. Just not necessarily with him.
“But why?” I asked. “Why do you want a... a companion? You could find someone who was already into this stuff without all the song and dance, couldn't you?” I could tell I was pushing against some sort of barrier, one that he kept erected for a reason, but that I couldn't help but scratch at, like a barely healed wound.
His eyes hardened. “That is none of your business,” he said, and I quaked as the touch of his hands grew rougher. He reached down to my hip and grabbed a handful of flesh there, squeezing until I winced. Then he smacked me, lightly, and I felt the impact reverberate up my body, traveling up my torso to my breasts. They jiggled under his burning gaze.
“Let's make a deal,” I said. “I do things for you, and you talk to me.”
“Things?” he said. “What sort of things.”
Jeez. How the hell did I know? He was the experienced freak here. I was merely a freak-in-training. “Use your imagination,” I hazarded.
His mouth quirked. “I can already persuade you to do whatever I want, sexually.”
“Then maybe I could persuade you instead.”
He tilted his head, and wet dark locks fell against his forehead. “Interesting,” he said. “You want to try to turn the tables? Switch me from dom to sub?”
I shrugged. “How about this: if you don't reduce me to an incoherent mess of sloppy orgasms, I get to ask you whatever I want and you have to answer me. Truthfully.”
“What's in it for me?”
I smiled at him. “Someone to listen to you,” I told him. “And a happy wife. I've heard that's very important.”
Anton chuckled at that, then he pulled me to him and his mouth descended on mine.
