As a special exclusive, here is the prologue and the first two chapters of my new release The Silk Tie - enjoy!
“Meet for drinks at seven?” I asked down the line to Hayley. “The Golden Goose?”
“Perfect, I should be finished in court by then.” There was a breathless quality to her words and the tap of her stilettoes in one of London’s old courthouse corridors told me she was walking.
I glanced at the clock and drummed my pen on the black leather mat that sat on my desk. “Me too. I’ve only got one more appointment and a closing to write.”
“It’s a date then.”
I smiled. “Hopefully a hot one.”
I ended the call then slipped my phone into my breast pocket. A sudden steamy memory of Hayley dressed in the sexy red underwear she’d bought the week before came back to me. She’d been waiting behind the living room door when I’d arrived home from the office at some ungodly hour, pounced on me and told me to close my eyes. She’d then tugged my silk tie loose before she’d slipped it from my neck and wrapped it around my head, covering my eyes.
“I’ve bought you an anniversary present,” she’d whispered into my ear—her warm, sweet breath had made me shiver with desire. “Use your hands to decide if you want to open it.”
I’d set about exploring my wife’s body, delighting in the delicate lace of the underwear and every curve of her breasts, hips and waist.
I was brought back to the reality of my office by a couple of raps on the door.
Drawn from my reminiscences, I shifted on my seat and hoped my semi wouldn’t turn into a full-blown hard-on. That wouldn’t be good, not at work. Surely I had a bit more control than that? I was a big boy—a senior partner at Gosford and Bingley Law, for goodness sake.
“Come in,” I called, knotting my fingers on the desk.
My secretary, Ethel, peeked in. “Your four o’clock is here, Mr. Stone.”
“Okay, give me a minute to finish this paperwork.”
“Of course.” She nodded and her graying bun wobbled on the top of her head as she shut the door.
Hayley’s image still hung before me. The tie had only stayed over my eyes for thirty seconds or so, then that and the new underwear had been discarded, as had my suit trousers and boxers. I could picture her now, spread-eagled on the couch, panting, flushed, arms outstretched. I’d kept my shirt on, and my suit jacket for that matter. Time had been of the essence by that stage and besides, she seemed to like it when I fucked her wearing half of my suit. It was as if the sensible lawyer persona I’d carried all day had been peeled back to reveal the beast beneath and only she got to see it—or so she’d once told me.
“Enough, Gabe,” I muttered, having to actually press on my groin to prevent my cock from hardening further.
Think of something else. Something that won’t turn you on.
My four o’clock client was a divorcee, his wife of eight years trying to take him for every penny. I felt sorry for him. He’d been a good husband from what I could gather, provided well for her and allowed her to give up work to pursue an expensive hobby in horse breeding.
She’d had an affair, though had denied it until a private detective produced photographic evidence. But she was claiming all kinds of emotional abuse and infidelity on his behalf in an attempt to keep the house, the stables, horses and a large portion of his company and pensions.
Personally, I couldn’t see why she’d needed to go elsewhere in the first place. She’d been living in the lap of luxury. Plus, Brent Dawson, her now-estranged husband, was a great-looking bloke, and if I were honest, out of her league. She had an overly fussy style; stiff hair, too much makeup, tight clothes, and nails like talons. Plus, from what I’d seen of her she never seemed to smile. Not like Hayley, who could smile even when she was exhausted and under pressure. Hayley always had a lightness to her face, a sparkle in her eyes and a tilt to her lips.
God, I loved her.
I wondered if she’d be totally bad again on our “date” later. The Golden Goose was notoriously crowded early evening. Set in Tudor Street, it attracted journalist types and the law crowd. When we’d met there last, she’d kissed me hello then set about texting. I’d been put out that I didn’t have her undivided attention until my phone beeped and a message from her read: I’m not wearing knickers.
I’d swept my gaze over her smart, navy work suit. Her tight pencil skirt had indeed appeared incredibly smooth, but then it always did. We’d found a corner seat, and while sipping our drinks, under the cover of the table she’d slid my hand up her skirt to her bare pussy and let me feel how wet she was for me. She told me that she’d been thinking of our last holiday at Christmas to Switzerland and couldn’t get the longing for another bondage session out of her mind.
Damn it. Now I did have a hard-on. Fuck.
I glanced at the clock again. I couldn’t keep Brent Dawson waiting. And certainly not with the excuse I had an erection because I couldn’t stop thinking about tying up my wife later. Certainly not when he didn’t have a wife to go home to and fuck anymore.
Poor bugger. He was having a really shit time of it. We’d become friends. A few times he’d stayed over his consultation time and we’d shared a Scotch and talked things through. I hadn’t added it to his bill, I was happy to do it. He’d lost his mother when the whole thing had blown up, so he was also sorting out estate matters and grieving. Not fun in any situation—worse when your wife had pulled the wool over your eyes for months.
I stood, walked stiffly to my cabinet then poured a glass of water. I took a long drink and concentrated on Brent’s case rather than the man himself. It was complex, his assets were numerous, and although mainly protected I had to play it clever to ensure he came out with what was rightfully his. Though if I had time there was one delicate matter that I needed to air with him. I couldn’t put it off any longer. And I had to admit, since I’d found out about the accusation, I was also pretty intrigued. It had played on my mind at night—Brent doing that; being a man who enjoyed that.
Why, though? I was married, to a beautiful, sexy woman. Why did these new thoughts about him keep swirling in my head?
I should be thinking of only Hayley.
Another rush of heat went to my cock.
No, don’t think of her. Not for an hour at least.
Again there was a knock on my office door.
I sat and placed my water on my desk, atop a coaster with a picture of a gold crown. “Come in.”
The door opened and Brent Dawson strode into the office. He wore a black suit of an exquisite cut—no doubt Savile Row—and a deep purple tie over a white shirt that had thin, black vertical lines. He was tall, his shoulders broad, and his dark hair had a few flecks of gray at the temples. He sported facial hair, not loads, just a neat, trimmed beard that was only just longer than stubble.
“Mr. Dawson,” I said, standing and extending my hand. I struggled not to grimace as my cock nudged up against my zipper.
“Please, call me Brent, I told you that last time and the time before that.” Brent took my hand, wrapped his warm, strong fingers around mine, and smiled.
“Of course, I’m sorry, and please, like I said, most people around here call me Gabe.” That wasn’t true, it was always Mr. Stone or sir, but there was something about Brent that made me want to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it was his sincere eyes that shone with quick wit and a sense of fun despite the hell he was going through with his divorce.
If Hayley did that to me I wouldn’t be able to go on living. But she never would. We’d made our solemn vows ten years ago and hadn’t wavered in our promises since. Our feelings had only grown. Hard to believe when we’d thought ourselves so in love back then that the emotions could have intensified one hundredfold.
“So, Gabe,” Brent said, taking a seat in front of my desk and crossing his legs. “What have you got for me today?”
I sat then reached for his file. “We have plenty to get through, but it should be fairly straight forward. Your financial consultant sent me all the information I needed and I’ve examined it carefully. As I’ve said before, there’s a lot we can do to protect what’s yours. I don’t think a judge in the land will give Mrs. Dawson what she is demanding.”
He ran his finger around his collar. “Well, that’s a relief to hear you say.”
I went to cross my legs but stopped when my still swollen cock complained. Brent wore a delicious aftershave and it had filtered toward me. It was a combination of pine forest and spiced apple and it laced my tongue in the way a yearned for flavor did. He always smelled nice; I’d noticed that about him.
“It’s my job,” I said. “To make sure you get what you deserve and are satisfied with the outcome.”
“Again, that’s good to hear.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, leaving a damp sheen.
I opened his folder. I didn’t usually study other men, that wasn’t how I was, but Brent Dawson, well, there was just something thickly masculine about him yet also congenial. It pressed buttons I didn’t know I had. Buttons I had yet to admit to having, even to myself, although the more I saw him the tougher it was to deny their existence. I liked him in a way that was totally new to me.
“We should probably just confirm the contributions and totals for the pensions, so you know how it stands,” I said.
“Sure.” He leaned forward and set his elbows on the table with his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The sleeves on his suit jacket slipped, exposing dark hairs peeking from his shirt cuffs, engraved silver links and a heavy watch, the face hidden on the underside of his wrist. He wore it back to front. “Take it away, Gabe.”
I set about showing him the figures, confirming it was as he’d expected then outlining the reasons why I felt he would get to keep the majority of his funds.
He sighed heavily a couple of times and blew out several low breaths as if relieved by what I was saying.
Eventually he sat back in the chair and gripped the armrests. “I think you’ve done a great job. If it goes as you say when we reach court, that is. I really don’t want to give up what I’ve worked hard for to someone who has lied and cheated.”
“And why should you?” I adjusted my tie. It felt a little tight. I’d be glad to take it off soon. The office was warm and the air heavy. “She’s committed adultery and that’s grounds for divorce.”
He glanced at his watch, having to turn his palm up to see the face. “I never thought it would happen to us.”
“Yeah.” He set his gaze on mine. “You told me before, last time we chatted, that you’ve been married for ten years.”
“Yes, very happily.”
“I’m pleased for you, genuinely. Because it’s wonderful to share your life with someone you love…” He agitated the knot of his tie, the way I had. “I thought I had that with Nadia, or at least I kidded myself that I did. But looking back, she always had a roving eye.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was a flirt. Even on our wedding day she danced in an overly suggestive way with one of the ushers to some rock song at the end of the evening. I just put it down to her being drunk by that point, but really, I should have seen the signs back then.”
“Yeah, riding his thigh with her wedding dress hoisted up, gyrating and bucking, shouting yeehaa.” He pulled his lips down, as though the memory made him want to shudder.
“Were there other signs?”
He stood, pointed at the decanters and crystal glasses that sat on the cabinet. “May I?”
He moved across my office, and I found myself again admiring the cut of his suit. The jacket stopped just below his buttocks and hung in a perfectly straight line. His legs were long and lean—he’d told me before that he played tennis and liked to cycle, that would explain his athletic physique.
He poured water, the chink of a single melting ice cube on glass rattling around the quiet office, then turned and took a sip.
After he’d swallowed he spoke again. “Yes, there were signs. She insisted on having passwords for her mobile phone and personal computer, ones she wouldn’t tell me. She used to tap her nose and say a lady needed some secrets. I just presumed she was shopping online and didn’t want me to see the cost of some of the things she bought for the damn horses, or that she and her friends sent silly, maybe naughty texts to each other that she preferred to keep private.”
He gave a resigned huff. “Once, I overheard her telling a girlfriend that she and I had enjoyed a great night together, you know, in bed, and she’d text her the details later. I suppose I was flattered that she was talking about my sexual prowess, and that her friend was interested.” He shook his head. “Trouble is, for the last eighteen months of our marriage, she was texting him, talking to him about their sex. Planning on meeting up so they could have more sex. If only I hadn’t been so damn naïve.”
“How were you to know? She’s a skillful liar and devious too.”
“Hindsight and all that.” Brent finished his water and set the glass aside. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. The base of his jacket hooked behind his forearms and I couldn’t help but study the way the triangular point of his tie stroked the silver buckle on his belt. There was a bulge beneath—not an erection, just the hint of a weighty cock. I would hazard a guess that he hung to the left.
What the hell am I doing?
I forced myself to turn away, spread my fingers on the desk and stared down at his file. Fuck, my cock was bloating again, and a tingle in my balls was spreading up from the base of my spine to my neck and over my scalp.
“There’s one more thing,” I said. “Another spanner she’s thrown into the works, just this week.”
“Oh?” Brent sat before me again and his brow creased. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
I cleared my throat, the words stalling.
I took a deep breath. “I’ve become privy to some information.”
“What, for heaven’s sake?”
“She’s threatening to accuse you of adultery too.”
“What?” He leaped to his feet with his fists clenched at his sides.
“I’m sorry,” I said, looking up at him.
Hurt and confusion swept over his handsome features.
“But it gets worse,” I went on.
“How the bloody hell can it get worse than a blatant lie? She has no proof because it’s not true, she has no grounds. How can this stand in court?”
“It won’t, I hope.”
I shut the file then placed my hand over the top, wishing I could keep the information in and save hurting Brent. He was the type of man who wouldn’t take having his masculinity or his sexuality questioned. He oozed testosterone, a potent maleness that couldn’t be ignored. Not that there would be anything wrong with being gay, I just didn’t think he was.
“Gabe?” He flattened his hands, palms down, on the table and tipped forward. His tie swung into the gap between us. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“So spit it out.” He pressed his lips together and a flash of determination crossed over his eyes. “Whatever the hell it is.”
I swallowed. “She’s accusing you of having an affair with an old university friend.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’m not in touch with anyone from my university days.”
“Are you sure?”
“Fuck, yes.” He hesitated. “I went to a reunion, a year before I proposed to Nadia. It was up in Durham, that’s where I studied business. Loads of the old crowd went, mostly all doing well for themselves…”
His face softened and he stared past me, no doubt looking at the London skyline out of my window. I got the feeling he wasn’t really seeing and his mind had wandered elsewhere.
“And?” I asked gently.
“There was one person I was pleased to see but…” He straightened and shoved his hand through his hair. It sprang back into place all bar one strand, shaped like a tiny comma, which stayed sticking up just over his right ear.
I itched to flatten it. Comfort him. The information I was going to have to dig for next would not be easy. “But what?” I asked.
“But we didn’t stay in touch, not after…”
I stood. Walked around the desk, leaned my buttocks against it. I gripped the rim and looked at him. We were close now, very close and I could feel his body heat. “I understand this kind of thing can be hard. Having worked in this area of law for many years, I’ve seen countless marriages being torn apart and a million accusation flung about, but the thing is…” I tightened my hold on the table. The urge to press my hand on his shoulder or take his hand in mine was almost overwhelming. “We have to be honest with each other if I’m going to help you.”
“I’ve always been honest with you.” He folded his arms.
“Good, so you’ll tell me if this person you connected with was someone you met up with after you married Nadia.”
“I just told you, no, not at all, we haven’t had any communication since I married Nadia, there couldn’t be.”
I nodded. “Okay, that’s great. So there won’t be any phone calls or pictures or social media evidence that you continued to have a relationship.”
“No, absolutely not.”
There was a hardness to his voice, a conviction, and I really did believe him. However, he did need to know the full details of what he was being accused of because it was bound to come up in court when I made sure things didn’t go Nadia’s way.
“There’s more,” I said.
“I can handle it.” He gave a stiff shrug.
I wasn’t convinced he could but I went on anyway, “She’s implying that person you met up with was a man.” I paused. “She’s accusing you of having an affair with a man for the last eight years.”
“Dry white wine, large, and a bottle of Becks, please.” I handed the barman a twenty and glanced around for a seat I could claim while I waited for Gabe.
The Golden Goose was filling up fast; it was that time of evening, but I could see a free table and three straight-backed chairs at the rear.
“Here you go.” The barman set the drinks before me then dropped the change into my palm. He flashed me a wide smile and let his fingers linger over my hand.
He was new, I hadn’t seen him before; young, attractive, his blond hair super-short which highlighted his angled features. He had a small black cross in his left ear lobe and a tight, black-beaded necklace.
“Thanks.” I returned the smile and collected the drinks.
I saw his gaze dip to my wedding ring then he nodded politely and moved to the next customer.
I smiled to myself. I adored being married to Gabe. It was the singular best thing that had ever happened in my life. Not only was he kind and caring, sexy and handsome, he was also my best friend. A person I could spend hours with talking about the intricacies of law without fear of boring him, and the man I started and ended each day with, and intended to for the rest of my life.
My last few steps to the free seats had to be hurried. It was like sharks after chump in here—chairs being the chump—and a couple of suits had set their eyes on what I wanted. I sashayed with an extra roll of my hips, my heels clacking loudly on the floor, and placed the drinks down a millisecond before the men reached the table.
I turned and gave them my sweetest smile. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you just about to…?”
“It’s okay,” the dark-haired one with square-rimmed glasses said. “Ladies first.”
“Only if you’re sure.” I faked a concerned expression and tugged on my bottom lip.
“Absolutely.” He dropped his attention down my body.
His perusal didn’t bother me. I used my hourglass figure and my femininity to my advantage. Why fight it? Why insist I wasn’t perceived as female and only as a lawyer? I was both and I could work the two roles together, and most of the time the sum equaled more than the parts. “Oh, thanks, my feet are killing me in these heels.” I quickly sat and angled my crossed legs into the space between us, staking my claim on the seat.
His attention lingered on the high black stilettoes I wore. They worked well with my pale gray skirt suit. I’d added a shimmering black silk shirt and pearl earrings to complete the outfit. I’d enjoyed the sexy feel of the silk all day, skimming over my breasts and touching my neck.
I tapped the air with the toe of my shoe and took a sip of wine.
“Perhaps you’d like some company,” he said, supping on his beer then taking a step closer. His friend did the same, putting his hand on the back of one of the free chairs.
“Well, that would have been lovely, but—”
“Do you work around here?” his friend interrupted.
“So do we, for The Mail. Always chasing hot stories.”
“And hot women,” the bloke with the glasses said with a smirk. “I’m Neil by the way.”
“Sam,” his mate said, holding out a hand in my direction.
I ignored it, inwardly groaned and took another sip of my drink. I’d actually planned on sending a couple of texts to friends while I waited for Gabe. I’d been neglectful of communication lately, so caught up in work and my husband that chatting to friends sometimes got left by the wayside.
I turned at the sound of Gabe’s voice.
He stood just to my right, all wide shoulders and determined, set jaw. He had on my very favorite black suit today, the one he’d only half discarded when he’d fucked me last week. A little tremor snagged at my clit as I remembered the earth-moving orgasm he’d treated me to. It had been worth the expense of that new underwear even if it hadn’t stayed on long.
“Hey,” I said. “You’re here.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he considered the two men looming over me. His blue-gray eyes held a steely glint and a muscle flickered in his cheek.
“I’m sorry, didn’t realize you were waiting for someone,” the guy with the glasses said as he stepped backward.
His friend let go of the chair and eyed Gabe warily.
“Yes, my husband,” I said, enjoying the bloom of pride that filled my chest whenever I referred to Gabe that way. Mine, he was mine, the man in my life, my protector, my lover, my knight in shining armor.
“Well, we’ll, er, leave you to it,” the bespectacled man said, moving away.
He was closely followed by his mate.
“Hassling you?” Gabe asked, bending to kiss my cheek.
“They’d only just started. I’d have soon got rid of them.”
He smiled and stroked the back of his index finger down my face. “I have no doubts about that.”
Sitting, he reached for his beer and took a long drink. I studied his light-brown hair, parted to the right. It was short and neat, as neat as when he’d left the house that morning. He had a dusting of stubble appearing on his chin and cheeks, a little over his top lip, but none on the small silvery scar just in front of his left ear. That stayed smooth and pale—the wire fence that had cut him as a kid had left a small zigzag shape.
“How was your day?” I asked.
“Busy as always.”
He rested his arm around the back of my seat so that he was kind of hugging me but not. It was a possessive gesture, but I didn’t mind. I liked being his.
“Got a tricky financial divorce to get through, big money, high stakes.”
“Yeah, it’s a successful business man, property mainly. Brent Dawson. His wife’s been having an affair and is now trying to take him for everything.”
I shook my head. “That’s not fun.”
Gabe frowned. “No, I feel sorry for him and I can’t understand why it’s happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s the sort of bloke other men want to be like, you know? He had everything to offer her yet she looked elsewhere.”
I raised my eyebrows. I couldn’t imagine Gabe—gorgeous, confident, super-successful Gabe—ever wanting to be like anyone other than himself. “Why, what’s he like?”
Gabe shrugged. “Well, I suppose he’s just got loads going for him.”
He took a sip of his beer, then, “Wealth, success, good looks, great body—”
“Great body?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Well…He’s an athlete, or into sports, tennis he said, and cycling. Not an ounce of fat on him. He’s got long, strong arms and legs.”
I’d never heard Gabe comment on another man’s physique before and it sparked my curiosity. “How do you know about his body?”
Gabe poked at the label on his beer and cast his eyes downwards. “Just a guess.”
I laughed. “Well, I don’t have to guess to know you’ve got a great body. Come on, it’s too busy in here. Let’s go home.”
“Yeah, it’s hot too.” He fingered the rim of his collar.
I stood and pulled the strap of my bag over my shoulder. “Be hotter at home.”
He grinned and pressed a kiss to my lips. “You better believe it, baby.”
* * *
Stepping into our Chelsea townhouse, I kicked my high-heeled shoes into the corner of the hallway and dropped my handbag on a tall-backed chair.
“I’m going to grab a quick shower,” I said to Gabe as I deadlocked the door.
“Yes, you do that. I’ll make us a bedroom picnic.”
“It will be.”
I laughed and headed for the bedroom. After shutting the curtains then stripping my clothes off, I set my earrings on a stylish mirrored dressing table and headed for the ensuite.
It was newly refurbished as a wet room and was all dark slate, moody downlighters and minimalist chrome fittings. I loved it. It was trendy and practical, the perfect combination.
I turned on the shower to the rainforest setting and stood under the fall of hot water.
After a quick shampoo, I lathered up with my favorite Jo Malone showergel, washed, rinsed then stepped out. There was no point putting clothes on, Gabe would only take them off again, so I bundled up in a fluffy red robe, rubbed at my long curls to get the worst of the water off then wandered into the bedroom.
Gabe was at the bedside table, lighting a candle.
“That was quick,” he said, smiling my way.
The muted shadows of the room sliced across his handsome face and a tug in my groin reminded me how much I wanted him. But we had all night. We were married, in our own home—sometimes it was nice not to rush. He was a sure thing.
“Yes, I’m hungry,” I said with a smile then licking my lips.
“I’ve done cheese and biscuits, grapes and some of that foie gras from yesterday.”
“Perfect.” I walked over to the tray he’d set on the end of the bed and popped a green grape into my mouth.
“Can you wait while I have a shower?” he asked.
He’d already removed his jacket so I kneeled on the bed to watch him take his clothes off. He had no idea how much it turned me on to see him undress. It was like my very own personal striptease show and I did my utmost to watch him if I had the chance.
Slowly, so slowly, he unknotted his tie and pulled it free from his collar. All kinds of delicious thoughts came to me whenever I saw that particular navy tie. It was the one he’d wrapped around my wrists then wrapped around the bedpost last time we’d been away. Surrendering to him, letting him pleasure me in the most deliciously torturous ways with his fingers, tongue and cock had left me wrung out and more satisfied that I could ever remember.
He laid the tie on the chair by my dressing table then undid his small shirt buttons. Each one revealed a little more of his hair-coated chest until finally his navel was also on show.
I cut myself a sliver of cheese then nibbled it. I loved his stomach. It wasn’t bricked and defined like a supermodel’s, because he wasn’t a supermodel, but it was flat and had a tantalizing strip of thickening hair leading to his waistband.
He paused and glanced at his iPhone, seemingly oblivious to me watching him, then he placed that and his keys and wallet on the dresser.
Pushing my hand through my hair, I continued to study him closely.
He tugged the shirt from his suit trousers and let it hang open while he unbuckled his belt and slid it through the loops.
I swallowed and stared at the thin strip of leather hanging in his hands. That would be fairly efficient at tying me up, too.
He glanced upwards at me. His lips parted but he didn’t speak. He looked from me to the belt that had harnessed my attention and back at me.
I raised my gaze to his and tilted my head.
He shut his mouth and his lips twitched into a half-smile.
“Really?” he asked.
I shrugged, playing it cool. “Really what?”
“You really want this belt?” He stepped closer, his bare feet silent on the deep-pile carpet.
“I want you but if you can think of something fun to do with that belt…” I paused and pressed my wrists together, “then perhaps you should just do it.”
He held the both ends of the belt and snapped it straight. The dark, excited look in his eyes was thrilling and beyond sexy.
A tightening in my belly sent shivers of arousal to my pussy and my nipples.
“Well, I never thought I’d use my belt on my gorgeous wife, but if you insist.” He spoke in a dark, husky way that assured me that the only thing on his mind now was sex. Sex and fucking.
He leaned forward, hung above me, and spoke onto my lips. “The picnic will wait until after I’ve had my wicked way with you.”
“I think that would work.” I straightened my legs and rested back onto the bed.
He pushed into me and set a kiss over my lips.
“Mmm…” he said, shifting. “Like this.”
His weight was heavy on me, his legs either side of my hips as he sat straight, straddling my body. His ass on my lower abdomen.
I stared up at him. His skin was dark in comparison to the open white shirt he still wore and his shoulders so wide blocking out the rest of the room from my vision.
He was all I saw.
He was all I wanted.
“Put your hands over your head, Mrs. Stone.”
“Yes, Mr. Stone. Anything you say, Mr. Stone.” I did as he’d asked and curled my fingers around the wooden slats in our bedframe.
“Very good.” He reached upward and threaded the belt through my wrists.
I studied the underside of his chin as he worked. Peppered with stubble and with a slight indent as he stretched forward. I could see his pulse beating beneath the surface of his skin, pounding away as fast as mine was.
This moment of surrender, of giving myself to him was thrilling, and as the belt tightened on my flesh and his fingers secured the buckle, the worries and stresses of the day rose from me.
I was his now. Nothing else mattered.
“Is that okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
He smiled. The candlelight flashed in his eyes. “Good.”
I opened my mouth for his kiss. Our tongues tangled then he lifted off me and sat at my side, his legs folded beneath him.
“Oh, what a sight,” he said, easing apart my robe which had slipped open and exposed my right breast. “You really are so beautiful. It’s a sin for you to wear clothes at all.”
“So take them off.” I wriggled and the robe fell apart some more.
He poked out his tongue and licked his lips. “Oh, I will, don’t you worry about that.”
He ducked and suckled my right nipple into his mouth.
The hot, wet sensation went straight to my pussy. A warm heat between my legs told me I was getting damp for him. I yanked my arms and arched my back. The loss of ability to move added to my excitement.
He lapped, licked then nipped my delicate flesh. With his other hand he exposed my left breast and tweaked that nipple.
“Gabe…” I gasped and looked down at the top of his head. His neat thick, hair shimmered in the dim light; the chestnut colors in the short strands seeming to glow golden.
“Mmm…” he murmured, kissing across my sternum and leaving a warm damp trail with his tongue and lips.
I shut my eyes and groaned.
He massaged and squeezed my breasts. The need for more grew within me.
“So hot for it,” he whispered. “Fuck, so damn hot.”
His breaths heated my skin. He swept his hand down my stomach and I parted my legs.
“Are you wet as well as hot?” he asked, stretching out on his belly.
“Yes.” I watched as he settled himself between my legs.
I was bared open to him, his hands on my inner thighs, his shirt still on, cuffs done up.
It turned me on so much when he wore the remnants of his lawyer persona yet he was getting down and dirty. All day long he was stiff-upper-lipped with clients, the epitome of an English gent and a competent, skilled negotiator. Yet when the sun went down, when the curtains were shut, his beast came out to play.
His desires were unleashed and his needs surfaced for satisfaction. Rather than getting used to each other, ten years of marriage had only made him hungrier.
“Ah…ah…” I panted as he dragged the tip of his tongue through my folds. “Oh, yeah…more of that.”
He gave it—circling my clit and searching out my entrance with his fingertips.
I was wet and the scent of my arousal drifted up to my nose.
He pushed into me and I tensed my stomach and harnessed that first delicious promise of a climb to orgasm.
He lifted up, rested back with his knees bent and studied my face.
“What the…?” I cried.
He still had two fingers in my pussy.
“How you feeling?” he asked with a tilt of his eyebrows.
His mouth was damp, his cheeks a little flushed and his shirt now disheveled and creased. But he looked calm, he looked the very essence of composed.
“Frustrated,” I said as I spread my legs wider and again pulled on the belt. It dug into my skin and the cool buckle scraped against the pad of my right thumb.
“I like seeing my powerful wife tied up, naked, hungry, demanding. Gone are the suits, the heels, the adoring minions, it’s just you, the raw bare bones of you.”
“Yes, and the raw bare bones of me are demanding.” I frowned and clenched my internal muscles around his fingers. “Demanding that you don’t stop what you were doing.”
He stroked over my G-spot.
I sucked in a breath. “Yes…”
“No.” He pulled out and stood by the bed.
“Gabe!” I whined, pressing my legs together to try to get some friction on my clit.
It was no good. It wasn’t him.
He leaned over me, put his damp fingers on my cheek and stroked down my neck. “You’ll have to wait until I’m ready.” He grinned. “I’m not one of your underlings and I told you I wanted to shower first. You just got me carried away. Now you’ll have to wait.”
“Yes, really.” He placed his lips over mine and kissed me.
It was a hot, hard kiss that tasted of my sex.
“Now,” he said, straightening and undoing the cuffs on his shirt. “You stay there like a good little girl.”
“I can’t do much else,” I said with a frown and another tug of the belt. I’d get him back for this.
“Good,” he said. “That means you’ll still be wet and hot for me when I come back.”
I tutted as he strode from the room then stared up at the ceiling and the shadows that danced there. A dust mote hung down from the crystal lightshade and swayed slightly in the barely there draught.
I huffed. Damn it. How could he leave me like this? There was moisture between my legs, my nipples were peaked and my heart was pounding.
I heard the shower come on, a steady patter at first but then disjointed drips as Gabe stepped in.
Fuck, I should have just joined him in the shower to begin with. Likely chances were I’d be getting screwed good and proper up against the tiles by now instead of being left lacking attention and tied to the bed.
But it was what I’d wanted.
I just hadn’t expected him to walk away.
Well, two could play at that game. He’d started something now. I’d find something to tease Gabe with. Have a think and get something new that would blow his mind—after a while, of course, after a good bit of tormenting.
I squirmed and shifted my ass on the covers. My robe was wide open and bunched on my arms and beneath my shoulders.
I had no idea what to tempt Gabe with. He didn’t talk about fantasies very often, but maybe that was because I hadn’t dug around for information. I hadn’t probed and explored what went on in that head of his, in the erotic corners of his mind.
Well, that was all about to change.
The water switched off and I stared at the doorway to the ensuite. I hoped he wouldn’t decide a shave was in order, or spend ages fussing around in there.
Naked and glorious, he filled the doorframe. Backlit by the muted glow of the ensuite, he was a vision of the perfect male.
“How are you doing, gorgeous?” he asked, leaning casually against the jamb and crossing his arms.
“I’m not coming,” I said, banging my head on the pillow. “Get your sexy arse over here and that big cock in me, right now.”
He chuckled and straightened. “You’re so impatient, Hales.”
“Yes. I’m impatient for you.” I looked at his erection that jutted upwards from his dark pubic hair. He was ready for action; there was no need to put this off another moment.
He walked to the bed and looked down at me.
I drew up my knees, flopped my legs open and pulled at the belt. I groaned and screwed up my face.
“Shh…” he said. “All in good time.”
He curled his hand around the nape of my neck, his palm cradling my skull, and lifted my head.
“Open up,” he said.
I did as he’d asked and, mouth wide, I watched as he fisted his cock with his other hand. He smoothed up to the head then back down again, shifting the skin and exposing the taut shape of his glans.
I whimpered, the need to taste him almost driving me crazy with want.
He must have understood my agony for he tilted his hips forward and fed his cock into my mouth.
Smooth and hot, his glans popped in. He tasted clean, of the shower and soap, but also of him. Beneath any other flavor I could always find his particular tang—slightly musky, peppery and so damn sexy. He tasted of sex.
He slid in farther, still holding the back of my neck so that I had to take what he gave me. But that was okay, I could handle whatever he wanted me to have. Oral sex with Gabe was one of my most favorite things.
His shaft slipped over my tongue—so thick, so hard and so wide.
I hugged him with my mouth, sucking slightly too.
“Ah, yeah, take my dick, baby,” he said, tension in his voice. “Take it all the way.”
I couldn’t answer. But I arched my spine, stretched my neck and invited him deeper.
He kept on gliding in.
He was so low in my throat now. I beat down a gag and sucked in air through my nose. Excitement was spiraling within me. I wanted him to come. I wanted to taste his pleasure.
He released his cock and reached for my right breast. He squeezed and pulled at my nipple. His movements were rough, rushed, not completely controlled.
I loved my nipples being compressed like that by him. The sensation rushed straight to my pussy as though they were hot wired together.
I groaned and the sound vibrated around his shaft.
“Ah…fuck,” he said.
I tasted a drip of pre-cum.
Good, he was as excited as me.
The grip of his fingers on my neck ramped up my pleasure. I adored being owned, possessed by him like this.
“Enough…” he moaned, withdrawing.
“Gabe…” I gasped, staring up at him.
“It’s too nice.” He rested my head down and gripped his cock in his right hand. He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head to the ceiling.
His chest heaved as he sucked in air, clearly regaining control after heading so fast to the edge of ecstasy. His left hand was balled into a fist at this side.
I lay still, watching him, loving that I could make him battle with his stamina even after all of this time together and after more blowjobs than we could ever count.
He looked back down at me, desire sparkling in his eyes.
“Fuck me,” I said breathily. “Fuck me, Gabe. Fuck me and prove that I’m yours.”
He slid over me, his chest connecting with mine and his cock nudging my leg.
I pressed into him, adoring his weight on me, and his body heat radiating onto my skin.
“You are mine,” he said. “You’re mine to do whatever I want with.”
“I’ve fucked your mouth,” he said. He licked the corner of my lips with the point of his tongue. “And now I’m going to fuck your cunt.”
God, I loved it when he said that forbidden word—a word that would never pass his lips in our day-to-day world.
“Please.” I wriggled and managed to get the head of his cock aligned with my entrance. “Please, now.”
He forged in. One fast, hard thrust to full depth.
I cried out, so did he.
He filled me so perfectly, so absolutely.
“Was that what you wanted?” he asked, straightening his arms and looking down at where we were joined.
“Yes, more, give it all to me…” I hooked my legs behind his thighs and squirmed so that my clit was stimulated too.
He pulled out, so just the peak of him was seated in me then he blasted back in.
I shut my eyes—the sensation of him propelling over my G-spot was exquisite.
This time he didn’t pause, he just withdrew and plunged in again.
“Gabe…” I gasped.
He lowered onto me, his mouth at my temple now and his chin butting into my cheek as he fucked me harder, faster.
The pressure was building. My orgasm preparing to detonate. His teasing had wound me up to combustion point and I was nearly there.
I struggled for breath, the air knocked out of me with each one of his forceful thrusts. I didn’t care. I could breathe later.
My clit was being bombarded relentlessly, my pussy filled over and over. The head of his cock was jolting my cervix, creating a deep, dense sensation I loved.
“I’m…I’m…coming…” I managed.
My orgasm claimed me. Gabe didn’t let up, he kept on fucking with near violent jerks of his hips. It was amazing; my climax bloomed on and on, not abating because of the way he was still going at me.
I battled with my binds, rattling the bed. My body was convulsing, the shockwaves beginning in my pussy and extending outwards in blissful tremors of pleasure.
Finally the crest waned, though I was still pulsing and shaking.
“Did I hit the spot?” Gabe asked, slowing.
“You know damn…well you did,” I panted.
He pushed up again and I unhooked my legs from behind his then flopped them to the bed.
“Good.” He propped his weight onto one hand and took my right nipple between his fingers again.
He rolled and tweaked and tugged it long and thin.
“Mmm…” I said, bowing my back. “That hurts so nice.”
He smiled, a dark, wicked smile.
I clenched my pussy around his cock.
He was still hard and thick. I’d come but he hadn’t.
“How do you want to?” I asked, pulling at my arms. Perhaps he wanted to untie me so I could ride him, or maybe he wanted my mouth again.
“How do I want to come?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes, you know that’s what I meant.” I ran my right foot down his thigh, over the back of his knee then along his muscled calf. “You want me to ride you cowboy?”
The cheeky grin I’d expected didn’t appear. Instead, he frowned and his eyes narrowed.
“No,” he said.
“So tell me.” I studied his face, looking for clues.
“I want your arse.”
Suddenly he was out of me and my face hit the pillow. He’d flipped me with one fast flick of his arm around my torso.
My forearms crossed, the robe tangled and he shoved the material aside.
“I want this. I want your arse,” he said, sitting again between my legs, but this time palming my ass cheeks, spreading them wide then pushing them together.
“But…” My stomach clenched with excitement. We didn’t indulge in anal sex very often but when we did it was always intimate and satisfying, though usually pre-planned.
He placed his finger over my tight pucker.
I gasped and turned my head so the opposite cheek was on the pillow.
“I know it’s not a birthday or anniversary but I just can’t stop thinking about fucking your arse.”
“Ahh…” I jerked a little as he slid his finger into my anus, its way eased by my own juices.
“So hot, so tight…” he said. “I want my cock in here, baby.”
“Yes,” I whispered, relaxing and accommodating another finger he was pressing into me.
My mind was spinning. What had brought this on?
He gently fucked me with two fingers, getting me pliant and used to him being there.
I moaned and shut my eyes. This was a new turn of events on how I thought the evening would go, but then that was one of the things I loved about Gabe—he still surprised me.
He slipped out and I watched him lean to the bedside drawer and grab a tube of lubrication.
My heart was thudding and my skin tingled.
The bed shifted as he slicked himself up, ready to enter my darkest, most private place.
I closed my eyes, parted my lips and stretched my legs wider.
“Here, like this,” he said, hoisting my hips up and shoving a pillow beneath them. “I want to see where I’m going.”
This position made me so open, so vulnerable to him. But I knew he’d never hurt me, not in a bad way, only in a sexy, pleasurable way.
He was touching my hole again, spreading cool lube around my wrinkled pucker.
“I’m here, it’s okay.”
There was excitement in his voice. He was soothing, yes, but also there was a big bolt of eager anticipation there too.
“You’re ready,” he said, leaning over me, his chest coming into contact with my back. “Let me in.”
The head of his cock nudged at my hole. I tried to relax, discard the tension, but it wasn’t easy when I was so wound up and turned on. Damn, he’d fucked my mouth, my pussy and now he was claiming my ass. I loved Gabe, I loved being his. I loved him fucking every inch of me, taking everything I had to give.
He pushed in, just a little bit, slowly, so slowly, allowing my sphincter to ease apart and accommodate his width.
I clenched my fists—my hands tingled from being bound and high—and raised my head. My breath was lodged low down in my chest.
My crown rested against his face and he spoke into my ear.
“Can you feel that?” he asked.
“Fuck, yes, of course.”
“What does it feel like? Tell me.”
“What else?” He gained another inch.
The rim of his glans popped in past my sphincter.
“Baby, tell me.”
“Wide, and hot, so hot. Not just your cock, but my hole, the stretched skin, it’s on fire.”
His breaths were warm and fast by my ear, storm-like. “Now, how does it feel now?”
As he’d spoken he’d driven in farther. It felt like I had him all now, or at least I hoped I did because I couldn’t take much more.
“Oh, God,” I moaned.
“What’s it like?” he asked again, more urgently.
What was it with the questions? “I…I’m so full. It’s like you’re part of me. So deep inside me.”
He groaned. “I am. I’m so damn high up in your pretty arse, my arse—I own you, don’t I?”
“Yes. I’m yours, Gabe…”
“So take all of me.” He eased in some more.
Just when I didn’t think I could take another inch of his cock he gave it to me. His balls pushed at my pussy and the root of his shaft stretched my anus so damn wide. Darts of arousal shot to my clit and my pussy trembled for him.
It had been so long since we’d indulged in this. Why did we leave it so many months?
And what had made Gabe yearn for it tonight?
“Are you handling me?” he asked.
“Good, because I’m going to come now. In your arse.”
“I want that…oh, Gabe…”
He withdrew, not far, then slid back in.
We both grunted; mine muffled in the pillow, his in my hair.
“I can’t last…” he said.
“So come. Come in me.” I didn’t think I’d orgasm again, the last one was so fresh. But I loved coming first then hearing, seeing, feeling Gabe’s climax without being distracted.
“I’m going to,” he moaned. “Fuck, it’s here…already.”
He shoved into me.
His pubic hair tickled my buttocks and my breasts dragged on the bedcovers.
I splayed my fingers wide, curled my toes and allowed my body to be a vessel for my husband’s pleasure.
“Oh, God, oh, God…” he gasped. “That’s it. Right, high…in you…”
His cock was pulsing, small throbs that my sensitive sphincter absorbed. Warmth seeped inside me, mixing with the lube.
I committed it all to memory. Every groan, jerk and judder. Later, or tomorrow, I’d find that corner of my mind where I’d stored this moment and smile, hug myself and think of Gabe orgasming with his beautiful cock in my ass.
“Ah, Hales, that’s so good…” he said breathlessly and stilling his twitching hips. “So fucking good.” He flopped harder onto me.
“Lift up a bit,” I puffed. “Can’t…breathe.”
“Fuck, sorry.” He pulled away and slid his cock out.
“You didn’t have to…” I felt bereft without him.
“I did.” He reached for my wrists and quickly undid the belt. “You’ve been trussed up like that for too long. I hope you haven’t lost feeling in your hands.”
“No, they’re okay,” I said. That wasn’t quite the truth, they were a little numb and pins and needles jabbed at my fingertips.
He discarded the belt and it slithered to the floor. The bunched-up robe was also abandoned.
“Come here,” he said, scooping me close to his chest.
I pressed my hands between us and linked my fingers, relieved to have my shoulders back in a more natural position.
“Thanks,” he said, kissing my forehead and speaking into my hair. “That was fucking awesome.”
“You don’t need to say thanks,” I said, snuggling my face into his neck and settling into my favorite spot, the gap between his head and the first angle of his shoulder that felt like it was designed just for me.
“I hadn’t planned that, when I tied you to the bed, you know.”
“Did you plan any of it?” I closed my eyes. “The shower? Leaving me dying of frustration?”
“No, I just went with what felt right.”
“And it did feel right, so clearly that approach works.” I sucked in a large breath—my heart and breathing rates were returning to normal.
Gabe tangled his legs with mine.
“So why were you so…er…talkative?” I asked. “You’re not usually so keen to know how everything feels.”
He was quiet for a moment and I didn’t think he’d answer, but then, “I don’t know, it’s just…”
“What?” Curiosity was gnawing at me but I contained it. Something told me he might clam up if he thought I was as fascinated as I was.
“It’s just I was thinking about it today, anal sex, you know.”
“As you do.” I smiled.
“Well, not usually, not at work, but I did, and then when I saw you so keen for me to bury deep all that need came back.”
“So why were you thinking about it? I’m sure it wasn’t Ethel, your secretary, that got you going.”
He chuckled. “No, definitely not.” He paused. “I don’t know really. I just was.”
“And you wondered what it felt like for me to have you in my arse?”
“Yes. It feels fucking awesome when I’m in there, so tight on my dick and on the root and so soft and warm. It’s so…”
I grinned, my cheek bunching on his neck. “Naughty, forbidden?”
“Yeah, I guess, and it makes me feel so close to you.”
I wriggled nearer. “You’re always close to me, even when we’re apart.”
“And did I satisfy your curiosity?” I asked. “About how it feels?”
“Yeah, well…” He tensed slightly.
I raised my head, needing to look at his face through the dim light. “Well what?”
“Yes,” he said with a downward curl of his lips that lasted a nanosecond. “You did.”
I bit my bottom lip. Not only was I a lawyer and trained to look for micro-expressions, I also knew my husband. And what I’d just seen was one of the things I loved about him. There was always more to learn and that delighted me, especially in a moment like this when I’d just seen something I hadn’t expected.
Because I hadn’t satisfied his curiosity about how it felt to be ass-fucked. Not by a long shot. How could I with just a few words? Words were inadequate for such a momentous feeling, such a grand sensation.
Gabe had just revealed a fantasy to me. Without even realizing it he’d given me a tool to tease and thrill him with, to make him come in a way he never had before.
I smiled and let out a long, slow breath as I shut my eyes. It seemed I’d be shopping between sessions tomorrow. There was something I didn’t have naturally but luckily would be able to buy.
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