Page 42 of The Kingpin’s Bride

“Tell me what I’m going to do to you.”

She swallowed hard. “You’re going to fuck the cream deeper… make me come… and leave your cum inside me.”

“That’s my perfect girl.” I pulled my fingers free, wiped them across her lower belly, and reached for my belt. “Now spread wider. Show me where you want it.”The sound of the buckle was loud in the quiet room. I drew the leather free and dropped it. My trousers followed. I freed myself, aching from the sight of her prepared and needy on the sheets. The cream had done its work on her. My own body, however, needed no assistance. I was so hard the head of my cock was wet with precum.

I stepped between her open thighs and notched myself against her entrance. The cream made everything slicker, hotter. She was so sensitive that the first blunt pressure drew a whimper from her throat. I pushed in slowly, relentlessly, watching every inch disappear into her. The tight heat of her body closed around me the same way it had on the stage, only this time there was no audience, no performance, only the clear purpose of filling her. And the way she looked while she took me… blue eyes wide, full lips parted, long hair spread across the pillow, made the heat in my blood burn hotter than the plan required.

“So tight,” I said, the words quiet and controlled even as her walls fluttered and clenched around the intrusion. “You impress me.”

Her eyes flashed up at me, wet and furious. “I hate you.”

I laughed once, low and dark, and rolled my hips harder. “Sure you do. And yet your pussy is gripping me like it never wants me to leave. Say it again while you’re fluttering around my cock. Please.”

“I… I… I fucking hate you.”

“Better.” I drove deeper. “Now tell me how it feels when I do this.”

I rolled my hips in a slow, filthy grind that dragged the head of my cock over the spot that made her thighs shake. Her answer came out broken.

“It feels like you’re trying to fuck the hate out of me.”

I laughed against her mouth, dark and low. “Is it working?”

“No.” She clenched around me on purpose. “Do it harder and ask again.”

“Greedy wife.” I slammed back into the hilt. “You hate me so much you’re milking my cock for more. Keep talking. I like the way your voice breaks when I’m this deep.”

She moaned so sweetly.

My voice stayed cold even as heat built at the base of my spine. “I want your eyes while I fill you. I want you to know exactly who is doing this.”

She forced her gaze up. Her walls tightened in rhythmic waves. I felt the exact moment the first orgasm began to build in her. I did not slow. I angled deeper, grinding against the place that made her cry out, and watched her come apart on my cock while the leash stayed locked in my fist. The sight of her climaxing under me, beautiful and wrecked and collared, pulled a low groan from my chest before I could stop it.

She shattered with a cry, body locking down around me so hard it nearly pulled my own release forward. The cream made every sensation sharper for both of us. Her orgasm milked me in long helpless waves. I held back by force of will alone, but the effort cost me. She was too beautiful like this. Too perfect.

“Again,” I said against her mouth, thrusting deep and steady. “Your body is ready. You will come as many times as I decide before I fill you, right?”

She glared up at me through tears and pleasure. “You’re a controlling bastard.”

“And you’re soaking the sheets for me.” I rubbed her clit harder. “Say something meaner. It only makes me fuck you deeper.”

“I hope you trip over the leash and choke to death on it.”

I grinned, sharp and hungry. “There’s my girl. Come for the man you want dead.”

The second orgasm hit harder than the first, her walls clamping down in violent flutters that finally dragged a low rough sound from my chest. I watched every second of it. The way her blue eyes went blind for a moment. The way her full lips parted on a silent cry. The way her long hair stuck to her damp skin. I did not stop.

“Count them,” I growled against her ear, still buried deep, cream making every stroke filthy and loud. “Out loud. I want to hear how many times this pretty pussy has come on my cock tonight while you’re locked in my collar.”

She shook her head, voice broken. “I can’t…”

“You can. Or I stop.” I pulled almost all the way out and held there, the head of my cock stretching her entrance. “Count, Rena.”

“Two,” she whispered.

I slammed back in. “Louder.”

“Two!”