Bartered Desire: The Billionaire's Wife, Part 4 (A BDSM Erotic Romance) (2 page)

“Fuck me,” I muttered, and I couldn't tell if it was a command or a curse. “Fuck me, fuck me,
fuck me—”

His other hand dipped between my legs and found my clit.

“You are going to come for me,” he whispered fiercely, and I heard need and desire and something else in his voice, but I was too far gone to understand what it was. “You are going to come for me in five thrusts.” His thumb and forefinger went around my clit, and I shivered and writhed as he pinched me. I wanted to cry. I wanted to die. And all the while his cock pumped me, plundered me, turned me inside out.

“One,” he said, and thrust. I felt it in my curling toes. His fingers on my clit began to pump, moving the loose skin over it, as though he were stroking me off. He withdrew.

“Two.” He thrust again. I felt it in my arching back. He slicked my clit with my juices, then flicked the tiny, exposed nub. I shrieked. He withdrew.

“Three.” Another thrust. I felt it in my laboring lungs. His fingers circled my clit. He pressed the plug into my ass. I couldn't breathe. He withdrew.

“Four.” He thrust so deeply, I thought I could taste him. My clit was on fire, a slippery, aching point. My pussy quivered around his cock. I shut my eyes, and the emptiness in front of me loomed, just beyond my reach.

“Five,” he whispered, and his cock shoved me over the edge with one last push.

My throat closed around a scream as every muscle in my body contracted. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from it, and I was falling, coming, so hard and so violently it was pain. Pain and release. My pussy clenched around his cock as I bucked wildly beneath him, forced to feel a terrifying pleasure from which there could be no fleeing.

“Yes,” he hissed, his voice fierce, and in my throes he came, shooting his load in hot, sticky spurts inside me as his hips twisted and twitched, out of control. Then he bent and covered my body with his and we both cried out with the force of our pleasure.

His hands crushed me against him until, after an eternity, the raging storm seemed to pass us over, leaving us exhausted and marooned, trying to catch our breath. After a while—I couldn't say how long—he slipped out of me, his erection softening.

Cum dripped out of my pussy and down my leg, and I groaned as he slid the anal plug from my ass. Then he undid the bonds holding my arms, his touch almost tender, and I let the sleeves fall from my arms. Cool air hit my skin and I breathed a sigh of relief as, at last, I let myself slide down and sit on the floor of the limo. The vibrations coming up from the road were almost too much for my hypersensitive flesh, but I found that if I rolled to one side, letting my hip rest on the floor, that I could endure it without too much danger of coming again, though the corset bit into my waist and made it even harder to breathe.

My body was exhausted. My brain was numb. Distantly I wondered how I was going to get out of the limo, considering my state of dishabille and the fact that I didn't think I had any other clothes with me. Maybe someone had kindly packed up the clothes I'd left folded in the dressing room? Sure. Why not? I'd go with that and hope it was true, because though the thought of stepping out of Anton Waters' limo in a ripped wedding dress was arousing, I'd almost had enough arousal for one day.

Without warning, the pressure around my ribcage eased, and I looked back, startled, to see Anton kneeling behind me, undoing the corset.

Oxygen rushed into my lungs, and it was such a relief I wanted to cry.

Strong arms snaked around me and lifted me up, placing me gently on the seat. I could barely stay awake, let alone haughtily tell him I was a big girl and could get up all by myself, thank you. My body was no longer under my control. My limbs were noodles and I could only passively observe what was happening to me, as though I had been drugged. Perhaps I had. By sex. Maybe Anton had a cock that squirted heroin. A magical cock.

I was feeling a bit delirious by now, so I barely registered when Anton sat down next to me, then pulled me against him in a comforting embrace. Reaching up, he began to run his fingers through my hair, and I shivered. My skin was bare, and my pussy was leaking his cum all over the seat and the dress still hanging around my waist in tatters. I suddenly felt cold, and snuggled into him. His fingers paused in their slow stroking, then started again. He rubbed his other hand over my arms, then gently placed me back on the seat. I protested feebly at his withdrawal.

“Don't worry,” he said, and his shaking voice was like sandpaper over raw nerves. It made me squirm, and it wasn't all pleasant. He must have seen how I was feeling because he didn't say anything more, simply reached behind him and opened the door I had heard him open while we fucked. The sound triggered a strange sensation in me and I inhaled sharply, not knowing what to do with this new information. Swallowing, I tried to focus on him.

Piercing green eyes studied me, gauging my reactions. I saw there was a hidden panel behind the limo's front seat where he had stored all his toys. Reaching in, he pulled out a blanket and what appeared to be a candy bar. I didn't even want to know what horrible orifices he was thinking of putting that candy bar in.

As it turned out, he was only concerned with putting it into my mouth. After swaddling me in the blanket—a luxurious, warm, fuzzy thing that almost swallowed me whole—he unwrapped the candy bar and broke off a piece. Gently he coaxed my mouth open and placed the piece on my tongue with trembling fingers, like a sinful sacrament. Then he closed my jaw and resumed his seat beside me, his arms falling around me and pulling me close. He planted a soft kiss on my hair.

We stayed like that for a while: Anton feeding me chocolate and occasionally kissing the top of my head, and me floating in a strange, indefinable state that I'd never felt before.

Finally the limo slowed, then jerked to a stop, and I roused myself enough to look out the window. We were in an underground parking garage. There was no natural light, and that was fine with me. I didn't want anyone to see what I must look like.

“How are you feeling, Felicia?”

His warm voice startled me, but this time it didn't hurt. For a moment I pondered the question, probing my brain and finding it, surprisingly, intact.

“I... I think I'm okay,” I said, turning to him. “That was, uh... really intense.”

He smiled at me, though it was hollow and strange and didn't quite reach his eyes, and I had the strangest sensation of falling, as though I were seeing an entirely different Anton Waters than the one I knew. Admittedly, I didn't really
know
him, but it was a startling experience. It only lasted for a moment, though, because I looked away.

“You entered a place we like to call subspace,” he told me, and I realized his voice was still shaking, as though he were nervous. I gave him a sidelong glance and tried to assess his mental state, but I didn't know him well enough to read him.

“
Who
calls it that?” I asked him.

He shrugged. “The BDSM community,” he replied. His voice was stronger now, more sure. “I am surprised it happened.”

I'd read about the toys he wanted to use—hell, they were meticulously detailed in our prenuptial agreement—but I hadn't read about anything that sounded like 'subspace.' “What's that?”

He shrugged. “It is simply a state of incoherence and abandon.” His brow furrowed. “You were able to lose yourself.”

Yeah, that felt about right.

Next to me, Anton stood up. Thankfully I was able to stay relatively upright and snuggled further into the blanket.

As it turned out, someone
had
packaged up my old clothes for me, and Anton retrieved them and helped me put them on, though it was probably like threading a spaghetti noodle through the eye of a needle for the most part. Then we got out of the limo together and walked—me with shaking legs and him mostly holding me up—to a private elevator. I leaned on him as we ascended, and when the elevator doors
dinged
I was about ready to go to sleep on my feet.

Anton half-carried me through the sumptuously appointed penthouse suite, which was nice enough that I was actually able to notice it as I stumbled through it on my way to bed. Gold and cream covered every surface, and floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto the strip drenched in the syrupy golden light of the setting desert sun.

Then we were in the bedroom and Anton was undressing me with warm, tender hands, and I could only let him, the soft pleasure of his touch radiating out over my fatigued body. When at last I was completely nude, he laid me down in the bed and coaxed me to drink a few sips of water before I let myself sink into the pillow, which was soft and white as a cloud. Less damp, though.

The last thing I remembered was Anton slipping a blanket that radiated warmth under the covers with me and smoothing the hair back from my forehead. Then I was asleep.

*

At precisely midnight I snapped awake. My whole body hummed with energy, though my brain was a little behind the times. I had to force myself to survey the room and remember where I was.

In Vegas,
I thought.
In Anton Waters' private suite. And you're married to him.

Congratulations.

Licking my lips, I sat up and the soft comforter fell away from me. Beside me, a body shifted, and I started.

Looking down, I was barely able to make out Anton's form in the dark. He was bare-chested and fast asleep, and though I sort of wanted to study that incredible physique a little longer, what I really wanted to do was take a piss.

Yeah, I know. Romantic, right? Great wedding night.

Slipping out of the bed, I tiptoed quickly across the floor. My eyes were adjusting quickly to the light, and I managed to find the door that led out of the room and into the living area.

It wasn't quite as impressive in the dark, but the view of the strip was better. Lights twinkled and danced outside the window, and I had to repress the urge to go stare at them. I had to find a bathroom, fast.

I winched my legs in and danced around the room, my eyes darting this way and that, trying to find a door that might maybe have led to a bathroom. My only comfort was that if I did pee all over Anton's floor, at least it was marble and easily cleaned up. I'd have been in real trouble if it was carpeted. At last I found a door next to the kitchen and wrenched it open, thanking the heavens when it revealed a lovely little half-bath. I dove inside and sat down.

As the relief of finally being able to, well, relieve myself washed over me, I found less worldly concerns begin to rise up and come to the fore.

Such as... well, what
now?

I was now married to Anton Waters. I was now his wife, and I still didn't really know anything about him. Except that he had a seemingly magical cock that could make me do anything he wanted. That was not a good thought to have. Reaching down, I wiped myself, and felt the residue of our fuck-session in the limo.
Yuck.
I needed a shower. A hot shower. And I needed to talk to someone.

I flushed, washed my hands, and exited the bathroom. In the light of the strip, the suite was illuminated, if not as bright as day then at least to the brightness of a full moon. Squinting, I poked my way around, hoping against hope that someone had given me more than three seconds' thought and brought my purse up. At last I spotted it on the kitchen counter, snugged into a corner and looking very out of place on the fine granite. Digging inside it I sighed with relief when I found my phone.

I flipped it on and found it still had quite a bit of battery left. I hightailed it back to the half-bath, shut the door, and called Sadie.

She picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, girl,” she drawled. “How'd dress shopping go?”

“I'm married,” I blurted.

She didn't answer for a moment. Then: “What?”

“I'm married,” I repeated.

“What?”

“Married,
Sadie.
Married.”

“I fucking heard you the first time!” she snapped. “What I want to know is...
What?
And... like,
how?”

“I don't know,” I snapped back. “It's all kind of a blur.”

“Jesus fuck, Lis. When I said you needed to get married in the next twenty-four hours before I drunk-blabbed it, I didn't fucking
mean it.”

“Well it wasn't my idea,” I said, and I briefly outlined the sequence of events that had led to a sudden elopement in Vegas.

“So what you're saying is you gave him a blowjob so amazing that he had to marry you right then and there?” Sadie asked when I was done.

“No!” Memories of Anton's traumatized face flashed across my mind and I shuddered. “No, nothing like that. It was like a spur of the moment thing, I guess.”

“I
guess,”
she said. “You didn't tell me you were sleeping with him already.”

“I'm not,” I said. “I mean, I wasn't. I... shit, I don't know. All I know is that he is super hot and we were kind of all over each other since the first day we met. But we didn't do, like, The Deed until after we were married.”

She started to laugh. “You waited to have sex until you were married?” she howled at me. “Oh my god, that's
rich.”

“Shut up! It wasn't
my
choice,” I said. “I'd have fucked him five minutes after meeting him if he'd let me. And we've done other things.”

“You didn't tell me
that
before.”

“It didn't seem important.”

“You really are a ditz,” Sadie said. “Of course it's important. He's really into you. You don't think that's a big deal somehow? Like, I don't know, it might have an impact on your
marriage?”

Okay, truthfully, I hadn't
really
thought it out that far. And it hadn't seemed like the sort of thing you needed for a stable marriage. Huge libidos, I had always thought, seemed like they were
less
likely to make a marriage work. Just look at my parents.

“I don't know if he's into
me
or just wants a wife,” I said.