His gaze roams over my face, as though he’s assessing the truthfulness of my words. He sighs and sits down on our bed. “You want the real me, Faye? You want the truth?” He smiles then, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fucking furious he was at your concert at all, and though you did good sucking my cock like I told you to, it wasn’t enough. I don’t give a fuck whether or not you were expecting him — the fact that he was there means you haven’t properly put him in his place, and that’s fucking unacceptable. You are mine. You wear my ring and carry my surname, but you still don’t realize who the fuck you belong to. I should’ve broken his fucking fingers to ensure he’d never lay a hand on you again. Next time, I will. You want the real me, baby? If he comes near you again, I won’t stop until he’s begging for his fucking life. I’ll make you watch as he bleeds out at your feet.”
I stare at him, a thrill running down my spine. Dion unbridled is a sight to behold. Perhaps his words should scare me, but they don’t. If anything, I just want to push him further. I want to see him lose control, just to prove to myself that he’d never hurt me, even if he’s more than prepared to hurt others. “Understood,” I murmur, my eyes on his.
He looks at me as though he expected more of a reaction and narrows his eyes. “I don’t think you understand at all, sweetheart,” he says, his eyes trailing over the gown I’m wearing, untamed fury blazing through his eyes. “But you will, Faye. It’s about time I make sure you’ll never forget whose wife you are.” His eyes flash dangerously, and he locks his jaw. “Take off that dress.”
I do as he asks instantly, desire rushing through me as the fabric hits the floor, leaving me standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of high heels. I’ve been wet since we left my dressing room, and I suspect he knows it.
Dion’s eyes widen when he realizes I’m naked under the tight gown I was wearing, and something that looks an awful lot like insecurity flashes through his eyes. “I couldn’t wear anything underneath without the lines showing through my gown,” I rush to tell him, desperate to reassure him.
He hums, as though he isn’t sure he believes me. “Come here.”
I step in between his legs, and he looks up at me, his expression hard as he cups my pussy, the heel of his hand pushing against my clit before he pulls his hand up, coating his fingers in wetness. “Did making your ex watch as you sucked your husband’s cock get you this wet?”
He slips two fingers into me, and I moan. “Yes, it did.”
His eyes flash with satisfaction. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “See? You do know how to be good sometimes. If only you’d been good for me the whole time, Faye.” His thumb flicks over my clit as he pumps his fingers into me, bringing me to the edge swiftly, only to pull his fingers away. I whimper in disappointment as he brings his fingers to his lips. “You see… only good girls get to come. Filthy little sluts like you? You just get used for my pleasure. You’ll please me, won’t you?”
“I’ll do anything for you,” I tell him, my words far more sincere than he realizes.
“Good girl,” he praises, satisfied with my answer. “Now turn around, spread your legs, and bend over. Place your hands on your ankles for me.”
My heart pounds wildly as I do as he asked, exposing myself to him in the most vulnerable way I ever have.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, leaning in. The feel of his breath on my skin makes my muscles contract, my entire body tense with anticipation. Dion drags his tongue over my clit, and I moan loudly, eager for more, but he pulls away and chuckles right before slapping my pussy, hard. I gasp, a new rush of desire concentrating between my legs. “You want my tongue, huh? What makes you think you deserve it?”
“Please,” I moan, desperate.
He leans in and places his lips on the apex of my thigh, right below the curve of my ass. A low, strained sound escapes the back of my throat when he sucks down, clearly marking me as his. “Mine,” he growls, before moving his lips an inch and doing it all over again. His fingers find their way back into me, and he begins to pump slowly, stroking my G-spot with every move, teasing, punishing.
“Please, Dion,” I beg when he pulls away just as he gets me back to the edge. I’m desperate to come, but he won’t let me. He just continues to mark my skin, his movements leisurely.
“You sound so sexy when you beg, baby. No one but me will ever taste this delicious pussy. It’s mine. You are mine. Say it.”
His tongue drags over my clit, and my muscles begin to contract, but he pulls away before I can come. “I’m yours,” I moan. “Only yours.”
His hands begin to knead my ass, and he chuckles. “Damn right you are.” He squeezes hard, and then he pulls his hand away, only to bring it down on my skin harshly, the sound of his palm hitting my skin loud in our quiet bedroom.
Pain spreads across my ass, and for a moment I consider shouting Yellow, but then the pain fades, leaving only a delicious kind of heat in its place. A low moan escapes my lips when he gently traces his fingers over my burning skin. “That’s for looking so goddamn beautiful that not a single man could keep their eyes off you at your concert,” he murmurs, his tone carrying a hint of anger.
He caresses my ass and places a soft kiss on my unharmed cheek, only to bite down on it moments before a harsh slap lands on that too, no doubt making both sides equally red. “This is for the roses, though I’m pleased with the way you destroyed a few of them.”
“Dion,” I moan. “Oh God.” I didn’t think this is something I’d be into considering the harsh punishments my father always inflicted, but it feels so good. There’s something so empowering about knowing that even his harshest punishments are designed to bring me pleasure. Despite his rough touch, I feel safe and cherished, and it makes me feel far more emotional than I thought it could.
Dion’s tongue brushes over my thighs, inching close but not nearly close enough to where I want him. “You want all of me, baby?” he whispers, his breath dancing across my pussy. “I’ll give you all of me.” His tongue begins to lap around my clit, and then he sucks down on it, making it clear that he’d mark me there if he could. My moans get louder, my pleas incoherent, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t relent until I’m at the brink of an orgasm, and then he pulls away abruptly, refusing to give me what I want.
“No,” I sob, desperate. “Please.”
He just chuckles, as though my frenzy amuses him. “Just be grateful I haven’t tied you up, wife. One day, I will. Piss me off again, and I’ll tie you to our bed and fuck you right to the brink of madness. Depending on my mood, I’ll either force you to come so many times that you’re begging for a reprieve, or I won’t let you come at all, keeping you at the edge until I give you permission to come.”
A thrill runs down my spine at the thought of it, and already, I’m thinking of ways to make him punish me like that. I don’t want him to be nice to me. I want him to treat me roughly and prove to me that no matter what I do, his worst will never truly hurt me. I want to push and prod until he shows me his demons, until he pushes me into that headspace where I can finally be myself — not the Windsor wife I was raised to be, not my father’s prim daughter. Just his. His everything.
In my peripheral vision, I see him grab one of Eric’s roses as I come down from the high he brought me to. He analyzes it, seemingly pleased with the way it’s still unopened. Before I realize what he intends to do with it, he’s got it pressed against my pussy, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he pushes it in.
“What would Eric say if he saw you right now, angel? Your pussy is swallowing one of the roses he bought for you so beautifully.” I moan, the soft feel of the flower only bringing a hint of relief. “I guess he did buy them for you to enjoy, and you’re definitely doing that, aren’t you?”
“Dion,” I moan, my tone a mixture of chastising and pleading. “I need you, please.”
He presses his finger against my clit as he begins to fuck me with the rose, his movements carefully controlled. “You don’t deserve my cock, but you’re taking your punishment so well that I might have to reconsider.”
“I need… I need to come,” I tell him, my breathing ragged. He doesn’t care — he just continues to tease until he’s successfully withheld another orgasm from me. Only then does he pull the rose away, letting it fall to our bedroom floor, another humorless laugh escaping his lips.
“You’re so desperate for my cock,” he murmurs, pleased. “Tell me, wife. Who does this pussy belong to?”
“You,” I reply instantly. “It belongs to you, Dion.”
He hums in approval. “I’m so proud of you, Faye. You’re doing so well, but surely you realize that you deserve to be punished for enchanting me? You make me want things I swear I’d never even dream of, and now I’ve had a taste of you, I can never go back to my life before you. You’ve fucking ruined me.”
I gasp as his hand comes down on my skin again, harder this time, the tips of his fingers slapping against my pussy, and it’s exactly what I needed to push me over the edge. A loud moan escapes my lips as my entire body contracts, my knees giving in. My mind goes blank, and Dion catches me, holding me in his arms as the strongest and longest orgasm I’ve ever felt tears through my body, his name on my lips.
“I’ve got you, my love,” he murmurs. He kisses my forehead as I tremble in his embrace, his touch so gentle that I’m on the brink of tears. I’m not sure why I’m so emotional today, but he just makes me feel so safe.