Michele Zurlo (3 page)

The topaz of his eyes betrayed the level of his desire and gave her hope. After an eternity, he rounded to the end of the table. She felt the nudge of his cockhead against her entrance. With her legs tied together, it was going to be a tight fit. She wouldn’t be able to lift her hips or spread her legs wider to ease the way for him. He shoved inside roughly and abruptly, her plentiful cream providing all the help necessary.

She moaned and gave herself over to the conflicting sensations running rampant inside and outside of her body. Soon the climax he’d denied her loomed close. She fought the urge to writhe and was only half-successful. Each tug of the clover clamp on a nipple drove her further from reason. Behind the gag, she screamed out an orgasm.

Jonas—Armand—ignored her climax. He didn’t slow down or take into account how sensitive her tissues became after an orgasm. A shiver wracked her body. Accepting her helplessness, she sank into a deeper level of submission. He hadn’t asked for it, but he’d taken it just the same. Goodness, how she loved this man.

Another climax rocked her body. Tears streamed from her eyes. He just might kill her with pleasure. She felt bathed in her own juices, full, and thoroughly used. When she came again, he came with her.

She floated in a vast sea of blissful semiconsciousness for the longest time before fire ripped her from heaven. He’d removed one of the clamps. The other followed rapidly. If the gag hadn’t still been in her mouth, the neighbors definitely would have heard her scream.

The fire lingered, growing and receding, pulsing in time with her heart. Jonas made no move to soothe it away.

He leaned down and nipped her earlobe. “I have a surprise for you.” Now he closed one hand on her breast and plumped that tender globe.

She arched into his hold. That, coupled with the insistent moan she forced out from behind her gag, begged for more of his touch. Moving around the table to stand at her head, he gave her what she wanted. He remained on the gentle side, as though he knew she couldn’t handle more right then.

His caress moved up her body, over her arms and to her wrists. She felt the slight tug and heard the scrape of metal-on-metal as he released her arms. He brought them down one at a time, massaging the protest from her aching muscles.

Then he removed her gag and wiped away the moisture from her face before massaging a reverent kiss across her lips. Now that her hands were free, she cupped his face and kissed him back. His submissive wasn’t gone, but she had definitely grown bolder now that he had partly freed her from the restraints.

When the kiss ended, he drew a finger over her swollen bottom lip. “Let me untie your legs, and then we can talk about your surprise.”

She’d thought the surprise was part of the scene, but it seemed she was mistaken. He moved down her body and stood at the end of the table that would give him a prime view of her exposed pussy. She knew what was coming next. The man was a stallion, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist one more bit of torture.

He drew a finger along her dripping tissues. Her entire body flinched in protest, even though she knew this was the best part. When she was bruised and tender like this, it was the only time she could masturbate successfully.

The soft pressure of his digit on her flesh increased. He pressed her clit flat. In the absence of bindings on her arms, she gripped the edges of the table. “Armand, you’re a beast.”

With that, he plunged at least two fingers deep inside. He worked her into a fine frenzy, and when he reached up and twisted her nipple, she came hard one last time. It was a shorter-lived climax, intense and pulsing, but not lingering.

Then he used a cold, damp cloth to clean her pussy before releasing her legs from the hook on the ceiling. As he helped her stand, she resigned herself to the fact that she’d be walking funny for the rest of the afternoon. Her legs were rubbery at best, and her ass, thighs, breasts, and pussy throbbed with remembered pleasure and pain.

He helped her back into her bikini and carried her to the sofa. She slumped against him, resting her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

“I love you, Jonas.”

He kissed her forehead. “I love you, too, honey.”

With Sabrina asleep in his arms, Jonas settled back into the curve of the sofa where the back met the arm and enjoyed the weight of her body against his. The past five years were easily the best in his life. He cherished every moment from her surprise proposal—they hadn’t even known one another—to the births of their two children.

From the first, she’d possessed an unwavering belief in him that still floored him at times. She trusted him fully, and she was game for anything he had in mind. Of course, this afternoon’s role-playing had been a surprise. He really wanted to get the pool clean before their friends and family descended on them en masse for the small cookout he’d planned to celebrate her thirty-fifth birthday. And then he had a dozen other preparations to make, as did his beautiful wife.

The moment she’d appeared in that bikini, the one she never got wet because she didn’t see the point in swimming in anything but a one-piece, he’d known what she had in mind. That’s why he’d ignored her until she’d spoken to him.

She liked to play power-exchange games, where he started out as someone who worked for her but ended up in complete control of her body and her pleasure, and so did he. “Armand” seemed far sexier than a thirty-nine-year-old English teacher and father of two. He never voiced that thought because then he knew Sabrina would stop playing. She found him irresistibly sexy no matter what name she called him by.

And he lacked any desire to resist the classic beauty and understated charm of his incredibly lovely, intelligent, and thoughtful wife. She truly completed him. He’d always thought people were lovestruck or stupid when they said something like that, even though he’d seen proof of it in his parents’ marriage and that of his best friend, Ellen, and her husband. Now he was lucky enough to understand the truth of that sentiment.

She stirred, nestling her cheek against his shoulder and inhaling deeply. He ran his free hand up her leg and over her hip. True to form, she shifted even closer. If they had time, he would take advantage of her again before anyone arrived.

But they didn’t have time. He couldn’t complain about the way they’d spent the afternoon even though they’d both be scrambling to complete the party preparations.

He continued his exploration. She opened her eyes when he exerted a small pressure on her breast.

“Sore?” He grinned down at her, knowing full well her breasts had to be tender after what he’d put them through.

She returned his smile. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Spencer.” He closed his mouth over hers and devoured her kiss as another reminder that she belonged to him. Then he released her and spent a moment enjoying the dreamy slant to her eyes. “Let’s get a shower, and then I need to get the grill going. My parents will be here with the kids soon, and your sister was supposed to come early with the cake.”

Sabrina groaned as she sat up, a reflection of her reluctance to end their interlude. When his parents had picked up the kids that morning so they could get some work done, she hadn’t been enthused to watch them drive away. She’d buried her face in his chest and said, “I miss them already.”

It had made him a little doubtful about the gift he’d arranged for their anniversary, but her changed attitude renewed his faith that she’d absolutely love the surprise.

* * * *

The sound of a car door slamming had Jonas closing the lid to the grill he hadn’t yet begun to light and jogging around to the driveway in front of the house. Rose, his three-year-old pride and joy, squealed and ran to him, her arms wide for an expected hug. Not one to disappoint the women in his life, he scooped her up into his arms and peppered kisses on her little cheeks. She giggled and squirmed, and her riotous blonde curls, a feature he felt looked much better on her than it did on him, tickled his face.

“Daddy, look what I made!” She held up a long scrap of flower-print cloth.

His mind moved at a million miles an hour to try to figure out what it was before she became affronted by his ineptness.

Luckily, his mother saved the day. Alyssa Spencer kissed his cheek and wiped away the lipstick. “She sewed that apron all by herself.”

Rose’s grin grew. “Nana only helped a little.”

Alyssa helped spread the fabric, and he could now see the hemmed edges and the tie that would go around back. “She couldn’t reach the pedal of the sewing machine.”

“It’s beautiful,” he assured Rose.

Her hazel eyes reflected the green of her party dress, and they glowed with pleasure. His princess enjoyed dressing up. “Now I won’t get so dirty when we plant flowers for Mommy.”

Rose wiggled, her patience with being held at an end. A glance over his shoulder showed that she’d spied Sabrina, so he set her down and let her run off to greet her mother.

His father, Brandon, approached holding Ethan. At eleven months old, his son was starting to take after Sabrina in his physical appearance. The downy baby hair had darkened to chestnut, and it was growing in straight. Ethan regarded his father with serious chocolate eyes and held out his arms, all the while exuding an implacable patience. He liked to tell Sabrina that Ethan got that, and his stubborn streak, from her. She would laugh and shake her head, not bothering to voice what they both knew to be true. They were a family of stubborn people, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He took Ethan and slathered his face with kisses until his son opened his mouth and bit his nose, his way of returning the kiss. They would have to work on that.

“Thanks for taking them. Were they good?”

“Of course.” Happiness lit his mom’s face, and she tugged at Ethan’s foot. “Did you guys get everything done you needed to get done?”

That was open to interpretation. One might argue that he and Sabrina didn’t get enough time alone together, and their scene this afternoon had been necessary. But they really hadn’t finished any of the food prep they’d intended to have done by now.

Jonas shrugged. “Still a few things left to do.”

His dad chuckled and slapped him on the back. “Good for you. When you have young children, you need regular breaks. Your mother and I survived having you three kids so close together because we could send you to your grandparents’ houses every other weekend.”

They didn’t have a shortage of people willing to watch the kids. Tearing Sabrina away from them was a sometimes-painful process, and she’d only weaned Ethan a month ago. And he didn’t really want to be away from them either.

“Does Sabrina know about the trip yet?” His mother whispered the question so Sabrina, who was exclaiming over Rose as she modeled her gardening apron, wouldn’t hear. He’d arranged for his parents and Sabrina’s mom to each take the kids for a few days. One or the other could have handled it alone, but he felt obligated to be diplomatic. Though Sabrina’s mother had thawed toward him significantly since she’d accepted the fact that Jonas hadn’t married Sabrina for her money, they still had improvements to make. Omitting her would have halted forward progress.

He shook his head. “I was going to tell her earlier, but I got sidetracked.”
By the sight of my wife in a bikini.
He had no regrets.

Brandon rubbed his hands together. “What can we do to help?”

Jonas gestured to the backyard. “I haven’t lit the grill yet.”

His parents headed toward the back, and Sabrina meandered in his direction, Rose’s hand in hers. He met them halfway. Sabrina leaned in and kissed a greeting on Ethan’s cheek. He greeted his mother with a dimpled smile and a line of babbling that sounded suspiciously like a breakdown of how he’d spent the day.

She listened intently, nodding twice before he came to a close. “I missed you, too.”

Jonas handed Ethan over because he knew Sabrina wanted a hug, and then he scooped up Rose and deposited her on his shoulders. Slinging his arm around his wife, he steered his family to the backyard. “Happy birthday, honey.”

She smiled up at him. “One of the best so far, that’s for sure.”

Hours later, their house full of friends and family, Sabrina finally sat down and opened her presents. She wasn’t very good at receiving presents, and she preferred to open them after people left. Jonas had let her do it that way once. She’d spent the time meticulously opening the wrapping as she wrote out thank-you notes, sucking the fun out of the entire occasion.

Last year, his best friend, Ellen, and Sabrina’s sister, Ginny, had gone in on a complete set of new canes and floggers. Sabrina had peeked inside that box, turned bright red, and quickly closed it. As the person whose job it was to use those canes and floggers, Jonas had appreciated the present immensely. Sabrina had learned to love it as well.

Now, faced with a gift from Ellen, she studied the glittery wrapping paper with a frown. “Ellen, this had better be something I can open in front of children.”

In addition to Rose, Ellen’s five- and three-year-olds and several other kids were on the loose. They weren’t paying much attention to the adults gathered in a circle around Sabrina, but that didn’t matter much. Kids had an unerring habit of showing up at precisely the wrong moment.