Page 47 of Bound to the EMT

My body misses the fullness, misses the warmth of his body inside mine. Before I can mourn his loss fully, he notches the tip of his cock at my asshole. Gasping, I meet his gaze in the mirror.

“You can take me, love. Just breathe for me.”

My insides twist as he pushes forward, opening my asshole as he invades me with his massive cock. Moans pour from my lips as my fingers scrabble along the granite countertops.

“That’s it,” he groans. “Take my cock up your ass. I’m going to come so hard like this as your tight ring squeezes me. Touch yourself, love. I want to feel you spasm around me.”

Contorting myself, I reach between my thighs and stroke my clit, crying out as the blinding pleasure zips through me, making me bow up and impale myself further on his cock.

“That’s it, love,” he groans through clenched teeth as he slides in another inch or two. “Watching your ass swallow up my cock like it was made for it makes me so hard. Fuck, my balls are so tight right now. I’m going to come in your ass soon. Just keep touching yourself for me. Take this cock like the good little omega you are.”

His praise rings out in my head, driving away the growing discomfort as he sinks into me. Thankfully, he keeps his growing knot on the outside of my tight ring, allowing me to feel just pleasure at him taking my back hole as his own. I continue to rub my clit, my fingers moving fast over the taut bundle of nerves.

Every stroke sparks more pleasure racing down my spine, making my stomach clench. Everything tightens as I sit on the edge of that precipice. So close. God, I’m so close. I’m sure he can feel it too. His thrusts falter, becoming erratic. He won’t last much longer.

Through the bond, he whispers dirty things, naughty things, things no daughter of the five families should hear. With a piercing cry, I come, my body tensing hard, causing my asshole to clench around his cock.

“Fucking hell,” he roars, sliding in again and holding there as cum jettisons into me.

Over and over, he jerks inside me, sending aftershocks of pleasure splintering through me. His hot cum bathes my insides, making me moan and writhe on this cock. As he pulls out, I clench, not wanting to get any of his essence on this brand new dress, but he smiles again and holds up the butt plug.

After having him inside me, I barely feel a stretch as he pops it in, keeping his seed deep inside my ass. The bond hums with our combined contentment as he wipes me up and helps me back down.

“You’ve never looked lovelier, my beautiful wife, but I must say, knowing you’re wearing this plug while we mingle with the higher echelon makes you all the prettier.”

The hall is stuffedwith people, many of whom I recognize, and some I don’t. Though a lot of them give me a warm, welcoming smile, several look at me, then look at my husband, and frown. No doubt my mother has gone around telling everyone how her elite daughter has married a commoner.

So very like her. Shaking my head, I take Branson’s arm as he helps me up the stairs. He looks perfect in his tux, as if he belongs here. But I know he doesn’t. Deep down, I know I don’t either. After being with him and learning what it’s like to live like him and do things on my own, I don’t think I can ever go back.

There’s a sense of accomplishment knowing I can cook and clean on my own if needed. I’m no longer helpless or beholden to others to do my work for me. Glancing about, I look for my mother, grateful that she’s not currently intruding.

“Love,” Branson murmurs, pointing at the gallery hall as we reach the top of the stairs. “Look familiar?”

A gasp hovers in my throat as I take in this semester’s final portfolio. All my artwork hangs in ornate frames with the most elite Alphas and omegas peering at them and smiling as they discuss my work. My heart pounds in my chest as I look up at him, noting the twinkle in his eyes.

“How... What?”

“Well, when I told Mom you were an artist, she insisted on seeing your work. Let’s just say she fell in love and decided to show them off to the rest of society.”

“And?”

“And most of them are wondering if they’re for sale.”

“My art?” I can’t help but feel an odd mix of emotions, most of them being shock and confusion.

“Yes, silly girl. Your art. I’ve told you many times that you’re talented.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re my husband. You could have been fibbing.”

He raises my hand to set it over the mark on his heart. “The bond would have told you otherwise. So are they?”

“Are they what?”

“For sale, my love.”

“I mean, yes. I’ve already received my grade, and these are not going to be included in my final graduate portfolio. But I wouldn’t even know how to price them.”

Branson leans over and kisses my cheek, infusing my heart with warmth. “Don’t worry. Mom will know how to do that. After tonight, you might be making more than I do.” My pulse pounds in my ears as he winks and walks away, leaving me to mingle and listen in on what people are saying about my pieces.