Total pages in book: 230
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1089(@200wpm)___ 871(@250wpm)___ 726(@300wpm)
“Ten seconds.” His voice holds no sign that he’s bothered in the slightest by how long the butler is taking with my mouth. For his part, the butler fucks harder. His hips jerk as he spills himself inside the condom. It’s hot through the rubber. There’s no time for him to enjoy it. He climbs off me, and off the bed, and puts his uniform back into place. The only sign he was just stroking down my throat is the pickup in his breathing. Francisco sends him away with a look.
It’s only when the door is closed that my husband removes his clothes. He’s perfection in them and breathtaking out of them, all bronzed skin and hard muscles. Naked, it’s clear what fills out his tuxedos so beautifully. He has a powerful physicality. Francisco climbs onto the bed without preamble, and now it’s not the butler’s uniformed thighs straddling me, it’s his naked, hair-dusted ones.
Then his crown is between my lips and I’m taking him into my mouth, steel under velvet skin, and I wrap my tongue around him. How do I feel this feverish for him and this suspicious of him at the same time?
Francisco laughs. “You were holding out on our poor butler. Do that with your tongue again.” I do, and a low groan escapes him. “I have to fuck you for that.”
He has to fuck me, and I have to take it. I’m chained to the bed. Held open for him by lengths of metal. It makes my hips work faster as he positions himself between my thighs and strokes inside me. I’m wet, soaked from the chains and the butler and from Francisco’s eyes. He stretches me anyway. My husband fucks me like it’s his personal mission to find out how much I can take. I manage his thick length by fucking him back. I let my hips work themselves into the pain instead of away from it, and then the pain goes away. I’m being stretched by him, taken by him, but it doesn’t hurt. I clench on him over and over.
Francisco angles his hips so that my clit gets more contact, and this sends me tumbling over and into another orgasm. It tugs on the memory of the flogger, and another release comes hard on the heels of the first one. I’m so dirty. These things we do are wrong. They’re wrong for a good wife and a good daughter. I don’t say a word of this to Francisco. He’d only fuck harder. Punish harder. Take more.
“One more time on my cock.” Francisco reaches between us and finds my clit. It’s too sensitive from coming so much, but his finger against it is impossible to ignore. The chains hold me down, but it’s his hand that makes me feel caged in by him. It’s a painful pleasure at first. Francisco watches my face intently. For signs that it hurts too much?
No. For signs that he should fuck me harder. He does, and it has the outcome he wanted. I come again as he fucks me, taking me with a kind of abandon he’d never show in front of anyone outside this household. He’s bared to me in this moment.
I come in a short, jagged burst. That’s the last one. No more.
“Why?”
Francisco lifts his head to where he’d rested it against my shoulder. “Why what?”
“Why does it feel so good?” I mean for it to be a joke, but it comes out plaintive, almost sad.
My husband leans down and kisses my bare shoulder. “Because it’s what your body wants, my dear wife. You can’t deny it. You were made for this. You were made for me.”
CHAPTER 10
Isabella
The nights pass in a sensual haze. The days take new shape. Reports come to me about the operations and financials of Bradley Hotels. I’m away from day-to-day operations now that I live in France. Even with access to a private plane I’m eight hours away. I can’t look over my father’s shoulder or manage Robin’s temper, but it turns out I don’t need to.
“Isa,” my father says, his voice pleading. “The hotel is a gem. A hidden gem. There’s this window in the private dining room overlooking the Rhine that is absolutely stunning.”
“I believe you, Dad. That’s not the point. We can visit the hotel all you want, but Bradley Hotels doesn’t need to acquire it. We already struggle with the municipal requirements on our properties in Munich and Frankfurt. Another hotel would mean more oversight.”
“The legal department can handle that,” he says, his tone dismissive.
And they can handle it. While hiring more lawyers specializing in international law, raising our baseline costs, and swallowing into the profit margin of a small hotel. “I’m sorry, but the numbers don’t add up.” I pause for a moment. “You could invest some of your own money.”