Ohhh…yesss…
Jayd had never congratulated herself more for surrendering to him.
For all of two seconds.
The second he ramped his pace to fuck her like an ax cleaving a log, she had no mind left for the private celebration. For that matter, keeping anything confidential from him. Brickham had declared it so, and she would obey. She was his helpless servant. His eager plaything. And now, his tremoring submissive…so ready to give him her vibrant orgasm.
If only he would take it.
Damn it, damn it, why would he not take it?
The absence of that answer had her crying harder. With every new pound of his cock, every cell of her blood soared with hope, only to be quashed with frustration. Her moans became desperate. Her sex was on fire. Her thighs were clenched, her clit was nearly her enemy.
“Yes, Pixie.”
Finally, finally, his affirmation held what she had waited for. Like a storm on approach to a shore, he growled with confidence…and impaled her without mercy.
“Come on. You’ve got it for me, don’t you?” he grated. “I feel it, sweetheart. I feel it trembling, so deep in this pretty cunt.”
“Yes, Sir.” She was out of breath and full of sensation. So much urgent pressure and hot need. “Oh, yes, Sir!”
“Not your words,” he snarled. “You know what I want more, naughty pixie.” He rolled his hips while his cock was still entrenched inside her. His feral moan joined her strident cry. “Give it to me, Jayd. Give it all to—”
She cut him off with the new pitch of her scream.
With the wild spasms of her sex.
With the orgasm that painted her blood in light and lust and freedom. That rocked her body in violence and splendor. That brought a blissful, biblical dystopia to the reaches of her mind, filling it with explosions as bright as the sun.
By the Creator’s equally blinding balls.
Was she dead? If so, she never wished to be resuscitated.
Unless, perhaps, if it was Brickham who brought the new air. And, like he did right now, the new pain. The sweet agony of her screaming tissues, stretching to take even more of his glorious penis. Still, he grinded deeper into her. Harder…
“Jesus…fuck me raw,” he stammered. “This is so…”
“Brickham,” she panted back but had no idea how. It had to be the Creator’s intervention. Nothing in her mind was making sense otherwise. Nothing in her body was making sense. Every wire was cut. Or reversed. Or pumped with too much current. So much. Too much! But somehow, in some insane way, not enough. “Please,” she begged. “Do not stop. Do…not…”
“Fuck, sweetheart.” His baritone voice blended into her tile-pounding aria. “You’ve got another one, don’t you?”
She could only answer him with a stuttering scream. It ruptured from her lips in time to the gushes of climaxing heat from inside. She could feel it all now, drenching Brickham anew, turning his lunges into wild, slippery bliss.
“Goddammit,” he croaked. “Oh, goddammit, what have you done to me?”
It took several seconds for her to be fully confused by that. Most specifically, by the pique that underlined it.
“Sir?” she stammered, unsure of what else to do. “Are you all r—”
Well, that was silly. And stupid. He was definitely all right. As all right as her. The man showed her himself while slowly pulling free from her.
His cock was shiny—coated so splendidly with her cream. And dripping so profusely with his come.
“Oh.”
Like before, her mental circuits could only produce one clear word at a time.
“Oh. My.”
Also like before, comprehending everything from Brickham was a fuzzy chore. But the man was hardly helping. Most of his words were muttered profanity as he reached and seized one of the towels from over her hands. He returned to terse silence while rubbing out the rest of his orgasm into the plush cotton, though his jaw stayed clenched for many long moments after.
Jayd gently pushed herself backward, lowering all the way into the bathtub with deliberate care—for herself as well as Brickham. She used the second towel to wipe herself off as much as possible, though she already knew how tender her sex and its surroundings would be for the next few days. Perhaps, if she was lucky, for at least the next week.
The thought alone made her smile, even if her Dominant was intent on hanging on to every harsh ridge of his grimace. At least those edges seemed to soften once he canted his gaze toward hers again.
“Come here,” he bade quietly, extending his hand. There was a heavy sigh lurking in his voice. It rushed out as soon as he lifted her into his towel-covered lap. “Fuck,” he muttered while gently pulling free the few dye foils that remained in her hair. “I’m…so sorry, Pixie.”
Jayd twisted her head, burrowing into the center of his chest. “I am not.”
She meant every word and hoped he heard the vulnerable truth she had just exposed, as well. The full honesty of her heart. He did not get any surlier, which was a very good sign that he’d heard. Her joy brightened as he pulled on her hand and pressed a soft kiss into her palm.
“That’s never happened to me before,” he murmured.
Jayd stroked along his jaw, into the stubble that was rapidly becoming a beard. “Pixie says, me neither.”
He made a weak effort at a chuckle. “Pixie should be saying she should’ve told her Sir that her second orgasm would feel even better than the first, so he could properly prepare his cock.”
She smirked. “Perhaps Pixie should be punished for that.”
“Not if Pixie doesn’t want her maid suspecting that Sir has escaped through a trap door with her.”
It felt magnificent to rock her head back on a full giggle. “Oh, why did we not think of that before?”
Though Brickham did not mirror her mirth, the depths of his gaze remained as cloudless as an April sky. “You’re that sure we can find a trap door around here?”
She widened her grin. “Three, to be precise.”
“Excuse me?”
“In my suite alone,” she said. “Remember, the Arcadians are descendants of the French. The original designers of the palais enjoyed bringing their secrets architecturaux with them.”
At last, a hint of handsome humor from him. “Now she tells me.”
“Well, if you had told me you were hobbling over for some playtime in the shadows…”
He reached around and lightly smacked her thigh. “Wasn’t the case and you know it.”
Jayd squirmed a little. Dear stars, what the man and his swats did to her. Even the playful taps. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered. “I do.”
He tempered his rebuke with a tender kiss to her mouth. “But for tempting me in a fully lighted bathroom, you sure know where all my shadows are, woman.”
“Because they’re the part of you I adore the most.”
She was resigned that Brickham would take that as one more line in their new lightheartedness. She should have known he would not.
She should have known that he would hear every syllable that had emanated from the farthest reaches of her spirit, the most vulnerable edges of her heart.
She should have known that in hearing all of it, he would see her darkness too.