“Orgasms can,” she corrected me.
“In that case.” I abandoned her foot. I stood and offered her my hand. She was breathtaking as I helped her to her feet. Certain, but tentative. Wicked, but innocent. Nothing I ever expected, everything I ever wanted.
I led her to the tall armoire in the corner and opened its door. She waited with curious eyes as I slipped off my jacket and reached for a hanger.
“You’re going to make me beg, aren’t you?” she murmured with a knowing smile, but I shook my head.
“No, beautiful. Although, I love when you beg.” I pressed my thumb to her lower lip, pushing it down and smearing her red lipstick ever so slightly. Belle gasped with pleasure, flicking her tongue over its tip. “Give me your hands.”
She held them out, crossing them at the wrists as I’d trained her. I smirked as I slipped the sash from her robe, marveling at my perfect plaything. Then I slid the kimono from her shoulders, allowing it to flutter like falling petals to rest at her feet.
“You’re going to stay very still,” I informed her, reaching for an empty hanger, “and let me give you the orgasms. You’re to come hard as many times as I choose, but you don’t have to ask for permission. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” she breathed.
I tied the sash around her wrists, leaving a small loop but knotting it tightly.
“Over your head,” I ordered.
She lifted her arms obligingly, and I backed her against the door of the armoire, allowing it to close to a mere crack behind her. I reached up with the hanger, slipping the loop of the sash over its hook before hanging it over the top of the door. Grabbing her hips, I pushed her against the door until it clicked, trapping the hanger’s hook—and my wife.
“Spread your legs.”
She did as she was told, my hands hovering protectively near her in case she lost her balance. It was a fucking beautiful sight. My pregnant wife, legs spread, her nude, curvy body stretched and on display.
“You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” I muttered, almost annoyed. Soon, I’d have to go without her for far too long. The thought of her being physically kept from me after the baby was born was nearly enough to make me want her to stay pregnant forever.
“Prove it,” she challenged.
I’d learned that if I wasn’t dominating Belle, I could never quite expect how she’d react in the bedroom. Sometimes, she folded into submission without prompting, a sign that she needed my dominance. Others, she met each bite and mark with her own teeth and nails. And then there were times like tonight, when her sharp tongue spurred me on, reminding me of the reason I’d never been able to resist it.
The reason I never would be able to resist her.
Those were the nights she came the most.
I moved my hand between her legs, pressing my palm to her warm pussy. She moaned, trying to open her legs wider. I chuckled at her obviousness. Despite her impatience, I rewarded her by sliding my hand farther and pushing my thumb past her wet slit to rest of her swollen clit. She groaned as I circled it.
I’d start slow and work her until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. I coaxed the orgasm from her gently. There was no need to rush. She was always the most beautiful as her body wound around me—around whatever I was giving her—and I wanted to enjoy watching her until every inch of her was taut and strained and mine.
She pulled against the hanger, moaning, and I crushed my mouth to hers, stealing those sweet sounds from her lips. I increased the pressure, dipping one finger inside her and then another. I stroked the pleasure out with slow, deliberate fingers until there was nothing left of her to wind up.
And then I let her go. Belle unraveled around me with a strangled cry, her limbs seizing and then delicately shuddering to a tremble like butterfly wings.
I gave her a moment before I took the next orgasm from her. By the time we were nearing the third, she was gasping and straining.
“Something wrong, beautiful?” I asked smugly.
“I want your cock.” The request fell so wantonly from her lips—I had to grant it.
I withdrew my hand, earning an amusing pout from her. I ignored it and unhooked her from the armoire.
Sex was trickier these days, but not impossible—and I loved a challenge. Guiding her to the bed, her hands still tied, I bent her over it, arms stretched above her head. Her fingers grabbed the bed cover. I loved it when she braced for impact.
“Fuck me, sir,” she said as I moved between her legs, biting out the addition.
“That feels like an order.” I rubbed the tip of my cock along her swollen sex. She was already near the point of climax. One touch would push her over the edge. I backed away and she cried out.
“Do you feel how ready you are?” I asked. “I could blow on your clit and you would come. You only get one chance to get this right, beautiful. One brush of my finger or my tongue? A kiss? How do you want me to break you?”
“Give me your cock,” she begged, “sir.”
“Fuck, I could never deny you that.”
I resisted the urge to slam inside her. I was so ready to feel her milking my dick that it took more than a fair amount of self-control. I wanted to enjoy every moment of her climax. I stood behind her stroking my shaft. Her head shifted, straining to see what I was doing.
“I want to come with you,” I told her, moving so she could watch me jack off. I jerked my dick slowly but roughly until a bead of ejaculation formed. Belle whimpered, knowing she was about to get what she wanted, and I couldn’t help myself.
I brushed it off with my thumb, leaned over, and offered it to her. She took it, sucking it clean with wild eyes. If I wasn’t about to come that would have been all I needed. I grabbed her hips, guiding my throbbing dick inside her. She began to come as soon as I breached her and so I took my time, giving her pleasure inch by inch until she burst as I buried myself inside her and released.
This was how it was with us. I wanted her like it was the first time—everytime. I took her like it was the last time—everytime.
After, I laid awake and watched her sleep again. It was becoming a bad habit, but I couldn’t ignore the dread I felt every time I closed my eyes—every time I took my eyes off her.
8
Belle
The baby was never coming out of me. I was going to be the first woman in history to be pregnant for years. Despite Smith’s ambitious lovemaking, I hadn’t felt so much as a contraction yet. The doctor had been no help. She simply told me what the internet did: walk, have sex, wait. So I pulled past the gates of Buckingham, parked my car in the farthest space from the living quarters and heaved myself out of the seat of my Mercedes. Smith was put out that I wouldn’t take the Range Rover, but I would be consigned to it soon enough. I wanted to enjoy the last little freedoms of life as long as I could. The sight of me huffing my way towards the palace, temporarily stunned a Beefeater in the middle of a ceremonial shift change enough that he stopped in his tracks before remembering his duty and snapping back to attention. I didn’t know whether to be offended that I’d managed to distract a trained guard or proud.
Georgia met me at the entrance of Buckingham with a smile, which I immediately found suspicious. She’d been getting along a lot better with Clara, but that friendliness hadn’t exactly carried over to our relationship. I couldn’t help feeling that somehow she disapproved of Smith marrying me, although I had no idea why. I was the best thing that ever happened to him. I considered telling her this, but settled for a simple, breathless, “Hello.”