Taking it All (10 page)

She put people at ease. Made them feel as though they'd known her forever. She exuded genuine warmth that couldn't be faked. There wasn't an insincere bone in her body.

And she was
his
.

He bent at the waist so he could brush his lips over the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair deeply into his nostrils. Desire surged hotly through his veins, giving him a heady sensation. He felt drunk, intoxicated by her essence. He was the most fortunate of men. He accepted it, knew it for the truth it was. Most men in his position never
got
a second chance at perfection. The opportunity to make amends for many wrongs performed. He wouldn't waste a single moment. He'd grab on with both hands and be on his knees, grateful and humbled by his wife's forgiving nature.

“Tell me what you'd like tonight,” he murmured next to her ear.

His mouth pressed against the shell of her ear and he nuzzled softly, grazing his teeth lightly over the delicate skin and then sucking at the tiny lobe.

She shivered and he grew harder, his erection straining at the pants he still wore. It was a scenario they'd enacted before. He, the Dominant, asking his submissive how to please her. Yes, he was in absolute control, but in essence he was hers, his pleasure hers, his desire whatever she desired.

“My hands . . . behind my back,” she whispered, her eyes closing when he traced the edge of her ear with his tongue. Her breath hitched and he smiled as he drew away just enough to take in every facet of her expression.

“Me on my hands and knees . . . you behind me,” she continued in a shy, faltering voice.

He loved that even as uninhibited as she was in bed, she was still adorably shy when expressing her fantasies. It was the perfect blend of good girl meets bad and a glimpse of her inner vixen who came out to play during intimacy.

“You taking me hard,” she said breathlessly. “Not stopping even if I beg you for mercy. Refusing when I say no. Your hand twisting in my hair, pulling as you thrust into me. You demanding me to remain still and to take whatever you give me.”

His own eyes closed. He took long, measured breaths to still his racing pulse. All the blood in his body pooled painfully in his groin, his dick so hard that it had reached the point of pain. He couldn't move for the material of his underwear abrading the sensitive head of his penis. Already there was a bead of moisture coating the tip. He was imagining being balls deep inside her, plunging and straining even harder to go deeper. Him holding her in place to meet his thrusts, his hand, as she'd whispered, tangled in her hair, forcing her to take whatever he dished out.

It was one of the many roles they played during sex. Their love life was wide open and wonderfully diverse. If it could be imagined, they enjoyed it. He knew how damn lucky he was to have such a wonderfully responsive lover. Wife. Best friend. It was cliché but, in his case, so very true.

“I like the way my girl thinks,” he said in a husky, passion-laced voice.

“Think my man is up to giving his girl what she wants?” she asked with a teasing glint to her eyes.

He tipped her chin up with one fingertip and brushed his mouth over hers. “I think I can manage. It's a hardship but I can swing the sacrifice.”

“Good,” she whispered against his lips. Then she slid her hand up the inside of his thigh to cup his bulging erection. “I'd hate for this perfectly good hard-on to go to waste.”

CHESSY
ran her fingers lightly over Tate's erection and then grew bolder in her caresses. Her husband was very well endowed. Not enough to make the logistics impossible but certainly enough for her to never complain in that department. Too much, and a girl had major appendage issues. Too little? And it was inevitable disappointment.

She liked her man just as he was and had no complaints about his prowess in bed or in domination. She was positively giddy with anticipation over Tate taking control back. Reasserting his dominance and his mastery over her body. Nobody knew her better than Tate. Though she hadn't had many lovers before meeting Tate, she'd had enough to know perfection when she found it. At the time, being young and hopelessly naïve, she'd lamented the fact that Tate hadn't been her first. She'd had this ridiculous romantic notion of gifting him not only with her submission but her virginity as well. Now she was glad he
hadn't
been her first because there was no doubt in her mind that he was miles above any of the other men she'd been with.

She was also secretly, and not so secretly, smug and delighted that Tate had admitted he'd never had a woman—a submissive—who was so perfectly suited for him. They were just meant to be, as corny as it sounded to say it aloud. But nothing about her relationship and ensuing marriage caused her any embarrassment. She was proud of who and what she was with him. He'd never given her any reason to feel shame for her desires and she loved him deeply for that. For always praising her boldness when it came to embracing her needs and desires.

“Baby, you're killing me,” he groaned. “And I want to give you everything you want tonight. It will be my honor—and privilege—to give you whatever you need from me. My love. My control. Whatever makes you feel safe and cherished.”

The words coming from him hit the very heart of her. A part of her soul that had been long denied. Emotion clogged her throat, making it impossible to breathe around the growing knot. Tears burned her eyelids but she furiously blinked them back, determined not to give him any misapprehension about her willingness—and desire—to see the night through in absolute decadence and splendor.

“I
do
feel safe and cherished with you, Tate. Please don't hold back with me. I'm not fragile. I won't break. I need you. I need
us
. Like we were. I need things to go back to normal. I want your control back, that feeling of absolute safety and security I feel when I'm with you.”

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, long and lingering this time, his mouth utterly possessive. As though they'd never drifted apart and were taking up right where they left off before he became so distant to her.

He reached down and took both her hands in his, gently pulling her to stand before him.

“Then go to the bed. Belly down, arms stretched toward the headboard and feet on the floor at the end. Get as comfortable as possible while I get the rope to bind you.”

Another shiver, almost violent in its intensity, quaked through her body, leaving desperate need in its wake. She stumbled precariously, like she was drunk on alcohol, as she weaved her way toward the bed.

Tate was with her the entire way, helping to position her to his liking on the bed. She eased down onto her belly, resting her cheek against the soft mattress. She planted both feet firmly on the floor, her toes curling into the sheepskin rug at the foot of the bed. Then he left her, his absence a keenly felt void as she waited for him to return with the bonds that would render her helpless and at his absolute command.

She didn't have long to wait. It was as if he were as impatient as she was to reclaim this part of their relationship. She closed her eyes, relaxing under his patient touch.

He pulled one arm up first, ensuring she was comfortable with gentle questions to gauge her reaction. First he looped the rope around her left wrist, testing the strength of the knot before securing it to the headboard, stretching her arm high above her head in the process. Then he repeated the motions with her right arm until she was spread wide on the bed, arms outstretched and reaching high toward the head of the bed.

She was completely vulnerable, unable to move except to rise up on tiptoe, flexing the arches of her feet and then back again. She tested the strength of the bonds, a quiver of delight tumbling around her belly when the ropes held fast and she was unable to move but the barest of inches.

“You are so absolutely beautiful,” he said in a reverent, awe-filled voice. “More beautiful to me than even five years ago when we first married. I know I've failed miserably in making sure you
know
how beautiful—and important,
all
-important to me—but with every passing day, you grow even more gorgeous to me. There'll never be another woman for me, Chess. No one who owns every part of my heart and soul like you do.”

If he didn't stop, she'd lose the battle to keep her tears at bay. The words he'd spoken to her, obviously from the very heart of him, ever since their crisis on their anniversary night, were heartfelt. An unobscured window to his very soul.

She bit into her lip and closed her eyes, not wanting to see what he would do next. Instead she reached out with her heightened senses and anticipated his next move. Would he torment her endlessly, drawing out her pleasure to its maximum peak? Or would he move in, rough and dominant, instantly possessing her body and rebuilding the faltering connection between them?

So much was at stake here. This night. It wasn't merely kinky sex meant to satisfy their more acute sexual tastes. This was truly a turning point in their marriage, whether he reestablished his control or they shifted to a different kind of relationship entirely.

She flinched when he pressed a kiss to the small of her back and nibbled his way over the plumpness of both cheeks and then ran his tongue up the cleft of her ass until she was trembling with desperate need.

Would he fuck her ass? Or would he slide into her pussy, hard and pulsing? Perhaps he'd first thrust into her pussy and save her ass for last. Anal sex was something she didn't merely endure. It was something she found extremely erotic and she embraced that dark need. She was completely unashamed of her desires and had never felt any inhibitions about letting Tate know what turned her on. Every kink they indulged in, she was a full and active participant. Just because he was the Dominant didn't mean her role in their lovemaking was passive. Far from it.

His mouth left her and his fingertips replaced his lips, tracing delicate lines down and then around her anal opening, teasing her mercilessly until she was already precariously close to begging. Not for him to stop. But to please give her more. To end her desperate journey to sexual fulfillment.

“I'd love to draw out your pleasure all night,” Tate said, strain evident in his voice. “It's certainly what you deserve. But I'm very close to coming already. Once I get inside you I'm never going to last for more than a few minutes.”

“Please don't make me wait,” she begged. “Don't make
us
wait. I want you so much, Tate. I don't know how long
I'll
last once you get inside me!”

He chuckled low in amusement, his hands growing bolder in their exploration of her most intimate areas. “My girl is greedy tonight. I like that.”

She almost growled in frustration because despite his earlier words of not being able to last long, he was taking his sweet time working her up to inevitable release.

It wasn't unnoticed by her that instead of using a flogger to mark her back and behind, he covered every inch of the area he'd usually kiss with leather with his mouth instead. A long sigh escaped her. This was a very different Tate tonight, but she didn't mind in the least. She knew in her heart that he couldn't bring himself to break out the flogger because he was instead showing her his love and tenderness in a completely different way. One she found ultimately satisfying.

His teeth grazed the small of her back, eliciting tiny chill bumps dancing over her skin. Then he followed with his tongue until she was straining against the bonds with impatience.

And then finally, just when she was prepared to beg him to put an end to it, he spread her buttocks, pushing upward so he had access to her pussy, and positioned himself just at her opening.

She could feel his broad head pushing inward, inch by delicious inch. Then he stopped and a strangled sound of need erupted from her throat.

“Does my girl want this?” he asked in a teasing voice.

He withdrew partially and she moaned her protest.

“Tell me what you want,” he said in a gruff, demanding voice.

“You,” she choked out. “All of you. Please, Tate. I need you.”

He rewarded her with a forceful thrust that seated him to the very hilt. His hips pressed against the insides of her thighs and he held himself there a long moment as his groan of pleasure mingled with her sigh.

“God, Chessy,” he said in a strangled voice. “You feel so damn good.”

She made a humming sound deep in her throat. It was all she could muster. Words escaped her as indescribable pleasure rocked over her body. Her fingers curled into tight fists, held firmly by the rope securing her to the bedpost.

Slowly, he withdrew, the walls of her vagina protesting, trying to suck him back in like a greedy fist. Then he slammed forward again, forcing her feet from the floor where they were planted. She gasped at the fullness of his possession. So deep. He was hard as stone, stretching her pussy to its maximum width.

His fingers curled around her hips, lifting her to meet his thrusts. She closed her eyes, completely giving herself over to the ecstasy shuddering through her body. He knew exactly how to please her, how to torment her with delicious, edgy pleasure. Knew just how close to bring her to the edge before pulling her back only for her orgasm to rebuild, bigger and more cataclysmic.

How he managed to last as long as he did was a mystery to her. She could feel just how close he was to hurtling over the cliff. His fingers tightened in her flesh, his thrusts became more frantic but yet he'd slow, pulling them both back.

Her need had become desperate. She was nearly sobbing at the overwhelming pressure, the promise of something utterly beautiful and all consuming.

“Say my name,” he said hoarsely.

“Tate!” she cried.

“Who owns you, Chessy? Who do you belong to?”

“You,” she sobbed. “Only you, Tate.”

“Then come for me.”

He thrust hard, forcefully, harder than before, purposely driving her to the brink of insanity. She was mindless, writhing against the bonds that held her tight. She turned her face into the mattress, screaming as her orgasm welled and burst like a cascade of fireworks.

He began coming, flooding her with his release. His semen made his thrusts smoother and easier. Impossibly, he drove even deeper, her body opening and welcoming him like a long-lost lover. And in essence he was. This was their renewal. A reunion of souls.

He strained against her, his hips pumping hard and fast while the rest of his body remained solidly glued to hers. His hands left her hips and slid up her spine, soothing her in the aftermath of her explosive orgasm. And then he lowered his body, his cock pulsing deeply in her vagina.

He blanketed her with his warmth and strength. She could feel his heartbeat, fast and furious, against the small of her back. And then his cheek lowered, lying against her skin. Trapped between him and the mattress, her own heart raced.

Turning his face, brushing against her hypersensitive flesh, he pressed his lips to her spine.

“You're my girl, Chessy. Never doubt that,” he whispered, the words wrapping around her heart, squeezing with love and renewed hope.

They were back!

“Give me the words, baby.”

“I'm your girl,” she said dutifully.

“And who does my girl love?”

“You,” she said. “Only you.”

“Who owns you?” he growled.

He pushed further into her, his cock still turgid inside her even after his release. Her body shuddered, chill bumps prickling across her skin.

“You do,” she whispered.

“Who loves you?” he asked in a softer voice.

Her heart surged to overflowing. Tears pricked her eyelids and she closed her eyes briefly to hold them at bay.

“You do.”

“Who knows you're his world? The one who's gifted with your submission?”

“You, Tate. Only you.”

He kissed her skin again, a soft benediction as his words whispered over her flesh.

“I love you, Chessy. Only you. Remember you're my girl.”

“I love you too, Tate.”

She had to stop because tears were running freely down her face, wetting the mattress her cheek rested on.

“Chess?”

The concern in his voice made her scrub her tear-stained face into the mattress. She didn't want to fall apart now of all times.