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He chuckled. “It’s alright, madame. You are fine. It’s a holiday, isn’t it? And a honeymoon. Best not to worry about time.”
She squeezed my hand. Alexandra was proud of herself. Her ascent to sexual freedom had only begun. I was part of her rise, so I felt some pride. I gave her the space she needed and intended to be a good, caring partner. The last time I fucked someone, I was the opposite. It was about using one another to get off. Meanwhile, Alexandra and I started a transactional relationship only to find love. And love her I did.
Forty-One
Alexandra
“You like this? Do you like it when I treat you like this? Take it out on you? Get what I want and leave you wanting more? Why should I even let you cum again?”
I found myself pinned over the sofa arm, holding on for dear life as Rick took me from behind. I assumed being in such a compromising position would feel demoralising, but that wasn’t Rick’s intent. This was a fantasy. We were playing in this world we’d created—a cocoon of sexual debauchery.
Rick gave me nothing but pleasure since the day we wed. He was patient and loving, but I also liked him being rough. I lived for him to spank me and call me dirty names.I felt like I couldn’t help but want more of it. I understood why people talked about sex so much—why the world was obsessed. It was addictive. I wanted him to have me every which way.
“Please. I’ve been good,” I pleaded.
He picked up speed, reaching around to play with my clit. God, it felt amazing!
“You’ve been acting like a little slut all morning.”
“How?” I gasped, feeling myself getting close. “I’ve been such a good girl.”
“You were in that nightgown at breakfast. I couldn’t stop staring at your tits. You knew what you were doing.”
I had known. Of course, he’d also had me the night before and that morning. We were now supposed to go shopping in Paris, but he was distracting me like this. We’d had sex on every useful surface of both the hotel rooms we’d inhabited. My favourite, to date, was when he threw me on a kitchen island and went down on me. It was unexpected and altogether satisfying. The way he gave in and made me cum was so sexy.
I came now—screaming his name and falling limp. He pumped away harder. I heard his body slapping against mine. It was raw, dirty, and felt so good. Rick gripped my hips and thrust one last time, hard. I nearly fell over the sofa completely—hanging on by a thread.
He slapped my ass hard. “That will teach you! Go clean up the mess you made, dirty girl.”
He tossed me a pair of his pants. I loathed this part. Somehow, I missed all these tidbits in dirty books. Everything couldn’t fit in a novel. There was little to be said about the sexiness of post-coital cleanup. The idea of him being inside me and leaving a mark still had an appeal. I liked the feeling of him somehow being my one and only.
“Have you ever cum on someone’s ass?” I asked.
He laughed. “Yes. A lot.”
“Is that good?”
“Do you want me to?” Rick, asked, surprised. “Because I would.”
“Would you like to mark your territory, then? Own me a bit?”
“Alexandra, you are so bad,” he kissed me. “Fuck. What has happened to you?”
“I fell for the rake. Good girl gone bad,” I said. “No, it could be hot. I want you to do almost everything to me.”
“You like being my plaything?”
I nodded.
“I like this side of you. You’re exhausting.”
“You love that I’m exhausting. You love that I let you take control.”
“I do.”
“Now, take me shopping. I want to buy dresses that will make Celeste lose her mind.”
“What about me? Will they make me lose my mind?”
