The Billionaire's Wife (11 page)

Without warning, the thing in my ass suddenly seemed to slip
past the tight ring of muscle, and my body closed around it. An anal plug. Of
course. It filled me up—even if it wasn't quite where I wanted to be filled—and
I squirmed with need. Without even knowing it, my hands drifted down my body.
My breasts lay heavy on the seat, my taut nipples rubbing over the leather and
sending shivers down my arms. My fingers crept down over my stomach until I
found my clit and began to massage it.

I didn't get very far.

Anton's heavy hand came down on my ass again, and I yelped. He
clucked at me, like a teacher scolding me. “Felicia, my bride, I said that
I
would fuck you. I will decide when you come.” And he reached down and
grabbed my wrists.

Too aroused to protest, I let him wrench my arms behind me.
Easily he held me in the grip of one hand, but I wasn't inclined to fight him.
The sound of the drawer opening came again, and I wondered, in the part of my
head that wasn't starved for sex or air, what kind of kinky dungeon limo this was.
Did this stuff come standard for bondage fetishists? Or did Anton have it
specially made?

I felt the unmistakable caress of leather on my fingers and I
knew exactly what he was going to do. I'd seen it when I'd looked up some of
the terms of his contract on the internet. I licked my lips and held my breath.

Gently he worked a long, thin leather sleeve over my hand, past
my wrist, up my arm. Then he put another sleeve over my other hand. The
material warmed with the heat of my own skin. When they had reached as far up
my arm as they would go, he pulled my arms together and fastened them to each
other with leather straps, securing them in place. I was now helplessly
immobile. My pussy burned with need and arousal.

Anton's hand slipped over the lips of my labia. “You're so wet
for me,” he said. “Do you really want me that much?”

It seemed impossible that he could think otherwise. “Yes,” I
said. “Yes, I do.”

“Tell me.”

He seemed to love it when I talked dirty.

“I want your cock in my cunt,” I said. “I want you to fuck me
until I can't walk.”

To my shock, he spanked me.
Hard.

“No,” he said, and his hand smoothed over my ass again. My
filled ass and empty cunt both quivered at his touch. “Tell me that you want
me.”

But how can I?
I wondered.
I don't even know you.

One finger entered my pussy and I clenched around it,
whimpering.

“Tell me, Felicia.”

I grappled for coherent thought as his finger slowly began to
pump, in and out, in and out.

“I want you, Anton,” I said at last. “I want you. Please.
Don't...” I couldn't think of what he might want me to say. “I want you to fuck
me.”

A second finger entered me, and I collapsed completely against
the seat. The limo went over a bump, and Anton reached out to steady me. Then I
realized what he must be thinking.

“I want you to catch me,” I said. “I want you to hold me up and
hold me down. I want to talk to you about dumb shit while you try to read your
quarterly earnings report.”

He laughed, and I heard the surprise in his voice.

“I want to learn what you like. What you want.”

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “I'd like that, too.”

And though he didn't say anything about learning what I wanted,
he seemed to know that already.

His fingers retreated and I heard his clothes rustling,
shifting, unzipping.

Then the soft head of his cock was pressed against my slick
folds, and I almost cried with happiness as he slowly, inexorably, pushed
forward.

My body parted for him like it had never done for any other man.
All his teasing, all the terrible, terrifying, mind-blowing orgasms he'd given
me, all of them had prepared me for him like nothing else could have. I felt
every millimeter of his cock as he filled me, each vein and ridge as he slid
inside.

“Anton,” I panted, and then he was fully seated in me.

I felt him from the inside out. His flesh burned inside me, and
I wanted nothing more than for him to ride me until I couldn't walk, make me
come until I couldn't even feel any more. The hem of his shirt brushed against
my ass and I felt the fine fabric of his tuxedo pants grazing my thighs. His
balls tickled my clit as he gave his hips an experimental rotation, grinding
against me, and I moaned and shuddered.

“You are very beautiful, Felicia,” he said. “I am glad you
married me.”

Then he started to fuck me.

It was torture. Sweet, delicious torture, but torture all the
same. His cock filled my pussy and the plug filled my ass, but the way he moved
was so slow, so lazy and unhurried that I wanted to scream in frustration. And
I would have, too, if it hadn't been for the fact that he angled his cock
downwards and with each thrust he rubbed over something inside me that set me
alight, something I had never felt before. With every long, drawn-out push of
his cock he speared it, and each push sent stars pinwheeling across my field of
vision.

Sweat broke out all over my body. My toes curled. Something
opened inside me, falling to pieces with every nudge of his hips.

I saw nothing but stars. I heard nothing but my own cries and
Anton's ragged panting behind me. My arms and shoulders ached, my knees rubbed
raw against the floor as he fucked me. Every time he pressed into me, he sent
me one step further toward the edge. I could feel the great howling void just a
few steps beyond my reach, and fear scrabbled at the back of my brain. If he
pushed me over, I would fall. I would disappear, swallowed up by it. I would
cease to exist.

And yet I wanted it.

“Please,” I begged him begged the universe. “Please, I... I
don't... I'm going to...”

He leaned over me. His hard chest and firm abs pressed against
my bound arms, twisting them into an even more painful position, but all that
did was make the pleasure of his erection moving inside me even more acute.

His arms came around me, his hands grasping my shoulders. Gently
he began to massage the muscles there, and kisses fell on my back, soft and
caressing.

“Felicia,” he said softly. “You are going to come.”

I didn't want to. I can't say why, but it seemed to me in that
moment that if I fell from the cliff in front of me and coming closer with
every thrust, that I would change forever. Become another person. Pleasure
loomed, threatening to transform me. But all I could say was:
“Please.”

One hand left my shoulder and moved down my back, dragging a
shudder of need in its wake. In my ass, I felt the pressure of the plug he'd
placed in me increase as he pressed on the base, moving it inside me.

I couldn't take it. Moaning, I squirmed. I felt like my whole
body existed only to squeeze down on his cock. I flexed my inner muscles as he
pressed against the base of the plug, letting it slide over my inner walls. I
knew he could feel it from the other side. I could feel his cock and the plug
reaching for each other as his thrusting picked up pace. My forehead, slippery
with sweat, slid easily over the leather seat. My arms were on fire. My pussy
filled, tightened.

“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.