Michele Zurlo (4 page)

Ellen tapped a finger on her lips. A gust of wind caught her dark hair and whipped it into her face, revealing the sham of her thoughtful pose. With a mischievous grin, Ellen shrugged. “It’s just clothing.”

With a knowing nod, Sabrina set the box aside. “I’ll open it later.”

Laughter rang out. Jonas noticed that his parents and Melinda, Sabrina’s mother, seemed to relax on the heels of that pronouncement. Of course Sabrina would want to be courteous to their parents’ feelings. Flaunting their sexual proclivities like that smacked of bad taste.

“That’s probably for the best.” Ellen, he noticed, did her best to hide a smirk. He had no idea what she’d given Sabrina, but he could guess. The Dominatrix in her loved to make Sabrina blush.

Sophia reached forward and moved her gift to sit on top of Ellen’s. “You probably want to wait on that one, too.”

Another Dominatrix who loved to make Sabrina blush. Sophia, however, could do that with a simple look. When he and Sabrina had nearly divorced toward the end of their first year together, Sophia had assumed the job of dominating Sabrina while they engaged in impact play. It rankled a little, but he’d left her high and dry, and that rankled more.

Sabrina gestured to the pile. “Anyone else need to withdraw something?”

A titter of laughter went through the group, but nobody stepped forward. The rest of the night passed without incident.

Later, when everyone had gone and he’d tucked his exhausted daughter into her bed, he found Sabrina in Ethan’s room. She sat in the rocking chair, her eyes closed as she rocked gently back and forth with Ethan in her arms. A mountain of love welled in him at the sight of his wife and son. He crept closer and studied his son’s sleeping face.

Sabrina opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy smile. Jonas lifted Ethan from her arms and put him in his crib. Then he pulled Sabrina to her feet and led her to their bedroom.

He closed and locked the door. Then he shoved her against the wall, lifted her dress, and ripped away her panties. All bleariness dropped from her eyes. Her breath caught even as her chest heaved.

Testing her pussy with one finger, he found her drenched. Inside, he grinned at the way she responded to him. It never ceased to amaze him how wet she became when he treated her roughly. She was so petite and dainty, and she oozed culture and refinement. Yet her cunt wept for him.

He kept his weight against her as he opened his jeans and shoved them out of the way. Then he lifted her and impaled her on his cock. She canted her hips forward and wrapped her legs around his waist. The softness of her skin heated him even more. He fucked her fast and hard, taking his pleasure without worrying about hers. It wasn’t necessary.

Her pussy walls quivered around him, and she bit her lip to quiet the squeaks and moans she couldn’t keep from making. He doubled his efforts, pounding her ass against the wall and lifting her a little higher with each thrust. She whispered his name over and over, a reverent mantra that became just the movement of her lips as a climax overtook her. He came next, following her over that cliff in less than sixty seconds. And to think, she’d never achieved an orgasm before she’d met him.

He was still proud of that.

After he withdrew and set her back on her feet, he kissed her softly, knocking her off balance by delivering tenderness after such a violent claiming. When he released her, she regarded him with a different kind of bleariness in her eyes.

“I love when you do that.”

He allowed a cocky smile. “You’re welcome.”

She took a wobbly step toward her walk-in closet. “What did Ellen and Sophia get me?”

Jonas shook his head. “No idea.” Well, he did have some idea, just not a definite knowledge. “I know what I got you, though.”

That stopped her. She frowned. “I don’t remember opening anything from you.”

She wasn’t pissed. He wasn’t in the habit of buying gifts for her. He preferred to do things for her. Their first year together, he’d wanted to give her something beautiful, so he’d planted a rosebush. Sabrina had named their daughter accordingly, saying that he’d once again given her something precious and lovely. He really couldn’t argue with that.

He lifted the mattress and extracted a folder, which he handed to her.

That frown deepened, and she regarded the folder suspiciously, but she took it from him and opened it up. He knew the moment she realized what it was. Her frown vanished, morphing to horror.

“No. Absolutely not.” She shoved the folder back at him.

Shocked at her reaction, he took the folder from her. It contained plane tickets and a reservation at a private BDSM resort. Because they’d originally married for convenience, they hadn’t bothered with a honeymoon. And when they’d renewed their vows a year later, she’d been nauseous the entire trip, a side effect of pregnancy. It hadn’t been the trip he’d envisioned.

This was supposed to be another chance at a honeymoon. Before the astonishment could turn to anger, he harnessed his better sense. Perching himself on the edge of the bed, he folded his arms across his chest. Normally he’d enjoy the way her gaze followed the movement, lingering where his muscles bulged, but right now he had other fish to fry. Besides, he needed a little recovery time.

“You’re saying ‘no’ to which part?”

Now she crossed her arms, a defensive gesture. “The being-naked-in-front-of-other-people part.”

Without waiting for his response, she disappeared into the bathroom. Jonas didn’t follow immediately. They hadn’t been to a club since before Rose had been born. Afterward they’d both been too busy, and then Ethan had come along pretty quickly. They were finished having kids. His timing should have been perfect. While she wasn’t an exhibitionist—that was his kink—she’d never objected to visiting a club or performing in front of an audience. She always said the crowd was inconsequential, only he mattered. He didn’t understand her objection.

* * * *

Sabrina noticed that her hand trembled as she brought the wet cloth to her face to remove makeup. Not once in the five years they’d been together had she refused him anything sexually. He usually dictated where, when, and how. Even this afternoon at the pool, had he looked at her and corrected the name she’d used, that would have immediately reset the terms of the scene. Or if he’d smiled and ignored her attempt, then she would have known he didn’t feel like doing a scene right then.

Giving over complete control to him was an arrangement she liked. He was never cruel or callous, and he was adept at manipulating her body to make it feel the most wondrous sensations.

She’d known this issue would resurface eventually. Jonas was first and foremost an exhibitionist, and he hadn’t pressed the issue for almost three-and-a-half years, before she’d begun showing with her first pregnancy.

He didn’t see the differences in her body, or if he did, then he had enough of a sense of self-preservation to not comment negatively. Once, she hadn’t minded putting herself on display. She’d been younger and toned. The stretch marks that had appeared as her abdomen had expanded with Ethan hadn’t been there. And her boobs hadn’t yet given in to the call of gravity. They’d inflated with milk, stretching to accommodate the need, and when the milk had gone, the skin hadn’t retracted. She needed constant support.

Sabrina didn’t normally make much of a fuss about any of those things. She knew Jonas loved her and found her attractive. But she wouldn’t have worn that bikini if anyone but him had been around.

The bathroom door opened, as she knew it eventually would, when she was in the midst of brushing her teeth. It was a long shot to expect him to just accept her refusal. She wanted to go. She wanted to surrender to whatever he had so thoughtfully planned. But she wouldn’t enjoy it the way she once would have.

Without saying anything, he reached for his toothbrush and joined her, the way he did every night, at the sink. She studied him in the mirror, looking for little signs he was pissed off. Did he stand farther away than normal? Did he avoid those constant little touches in which he normally indulged? What color were his eyes?

If he noticed that she was extra nervous, he didn’t let on. They prepared for bed normally. She shed her clothes and changed into a nightgown that fell to mid-thigh. Jonas stripped out of his shirt, but he left his pants on. Since he usually slept in his boxer briefs, Sabrina’s nerves grew even more brittle.

He went to a storage closet off the bathroom in their master suite and took out the massage table. Normally this would make her body tingle with anticipation. He often followed up a massage with a light caning that left her body thrumming with need. And then he’d take advantage of her. He unfolded the legs and slid the little brackets into place to secure them.

“Take off your nightgown and get on the table.”

Like the one in the pool house, this table was modified. It featured hooks to which snaps could be secured, turning it into a portable bondage table.

“Jonas, we already played today. I’m tired.” And terrified. She knew she’d hurt his feelings. At the very least, she owed him an apology. Making it up to him was more appropriate, though, and she wanted to think of a way to do that before she apologized.

He nailed her with his topaz gaze. “There are two ways to do this, Sabrina.”

The easy way or the hard way.
She backed up, giving him a clear signal that she wanted him to be cruel. She deserved it for the way she’d rejected his thoughtful and heartfelt gift. He had every right to extract retribution.

With catlike reflexes, he pounced on her, cutting the chase off before it could truly begin. He was half a foot taller than her and a hell of a lot stronger. There was no contest. He lifted her easily and deposited her facedown on the cushioned table.

A series of quick rips opened the Velcro cuffs, and he secured her wrists and ankles. Then he tore her nightgown from her body. The satin stitches resisted at first, but like her, they gave in eventually.

She waited for the sting or thud of whatever consequence he chose, but it never came. He made no attempt to turn away from the table to retrieve their implements from a locked chest at the foot of the bed.

Instead he caressed her shoulders. The pressure of his forays grew until his fingers dug into the exact places where knots had formed in her muscles. In short order, he banished them. By the time he made it to her calves, she had relaxed completely.

She was also crying. The consequence she more than deserved never materialized. She could only speculate as to the depth of the pain she’d inflicted for him to forego any kind of response. Tears soaked the padded circle on which her face rested.

He released the cuffs, lifted her from the table, and carried her to bed. She tried to stifle her sniffles as she watched him fold the table and put it away. He disappeared into the bathroom, only to return seconds later in his boxer briefs.

Climbing into bed, he pulled her into his arms and pressed a cool cloth against her eyes. When her sobs died down, he took the cloth and threw it in the direction of the bathroom. Clothes on the floor drove her nuts. Wet things were worse. It landed with a dull thud on the carpet, and she didn’t even cringe when he didn’t get up to put it away.

He turned off the lights and snuggled down under the sheet, keeping her body close as he settled them both in for the night. In minutes, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her cheek told her he’d fallen asleep.

The lack of a consequence and his tender treatment left her feeling lonely and confused. Her signal and permissions had been clear. She’d run from him. Why hadn’t he followed through the way she’d expected?

* * * *

Sunday morning usually meant an early wakeup call from Ethan because Jonas typically took Rose downstairs with him to make breakfast. When she woke to silence and an empty bed, she lifted her head to focus on the digital numbers on the clock. It was almost ten-thirty. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late.

Throwing on clothes, she rushed through her toilette and scurried to the kitchen. It was empty, and the breakfast dishes had been cleared away. She stared at the clean pans in the drying rack with more than a little bit of dismay. What kind of game was he playing? She didn’t like it one bit.

The back door opened, and Jonas strolled in with Rose on his shoulders and Ethan in his arms. Rose wore her gardening apron. Jonas and Ethan had dirt stains on their jeans.

Jonas smiled when he saw her, his expression radiating warmth and affection. “Good morning, honey. We let you sleep in. I put away a plate for you. Give me a second, and I’ll heat it up.”

He handed Ethan to her, bending to give her a kiss as he did so. Rose reached down for some love, but Jonas caught her before she tumbled from his shoulders. Her faith in her father to keep her safe ran deep. She giggled and squirmed until he set her down.

Sabrina cast a worried look at Jonas as he turned away, but Rose demanded her attention. She sat down at the kitchen table and pulled her daughter onto her lap so she could snuggle both of her babies.

As she ate, Rose and Jonas regaled her with the details of their morning. They’d made breakfast together, fed Ethan, and weeded an entire flowerbed. Jonas’s flowerbeds were works of art, and it looked like Rose was becoming every bit as particular as her father about how they looked.