Page 60 of Danger Close (Mourningkill #3)

Cobra

One Year Later

I wish I could say that we never had problems after that. I wish I could pretend that she sat down beside me, and it was all smooth sailing from then on. But it wasn’t. She tried to run. She tried to fight it.

She cried in my arms, pulled away, broke down in the middle of the night, waking up in a cold sweat.

She wanted her independence one minute, then crawled into my lap the next, begging me to not leave her alone because she was scared of what she might do to herself.

But through each one, I was there. Staring at the woman I adored as she clawed her way back to sanity–her way back to me.

Convincing her to see a therapist was one of our biggest fights. Telling her that I went to one semi-regularly helped. Seeing one together was our first step.

I bought her a little cottage farmhouse outside of Mourningkill. It looked like the kind of place you’d see in Normandy.

Like any woman who spent too much time on Pinterest, we ended up with chickens and goats. Apparently, we’re now considering alpacas. I dont… even know what to say about that. I just go with it. As long as she kept using “we”, I’d do anything she wanted.

“Princess? How are you feeling?” My wife liked lazy mornings.

We worked hard on helping her learn to sleep. Now, she would have lazy, late mornings, staying cozy under her heated blanket.

She groaned, stretching her arms overhead, her naked body teasing me from beneath the duvet.

Much to our daughter’s embarrassment, Teri and I both slept naked, cuddled on each other, even if we weren’t going to get, as Miss Jackson said, “nasty”. Kiddo had to learn to knock.

“I feel good,” she said with a happy, almost dopey, smile on her lips. “I need to tend to the chickens.”

Retirement is all about finding a routine. When you don’t have the structure of work, you’ve got to build your schedule. The chickens and goats were a part of ours.

“Already handled.” I kissed her bare shoulder, as I undid the buttons on my flannel shirt.

The other part of our routine was morning sex.

“Mmm,” she groaned, sweetly as she stared at me from beneath hooded, lustful eyes. “Are you here to pleasure me, Mr. Guerro?”

Anyone who said women in their forties and fifties weren’t sexy was an idiot. Teresa Louise Guerro, when she was happy and comfortable, was absolutely, madly insatiable. It was also an important part of our therapy. Retaining a trustful, physical intimacy.

“Not today.” I kissed down her throat, to her chest, my callused palm sliding down the curve of her ribs, to her waist. “Today, I’m going to be a selfish husband.”

I’d been gentle with her, so far. I worked very hard to earn her trust.

I took the small steps necessary to get her here… and now, I was going to reap the rewards.

I bit down on her nipple, hard, and she gasped, her thighs clenching.

“So responsive,” I chuckled. “But so disobedient.”

I cupped her bare sex, my fingers teasing her soaking entrance. I’d been training her for a year in small, inconspicuous ways. We fucked at the same time every morning. It was Pavlovian. The sun peeked over the Catskill mountains, and my wife was ready… her body anticipating the task ahead.

“Where should your eyes be, Princess?” Her eyes snapped open, her blue gaze coming to me. I smiled. Because my woman was so eager to please.

I’d taken it easy on her for the past year, but I’d promised her something once and never forgotten it. I promised that I’d fuck her until she forgot her own name. I’d waited for her to heal her body, then her mind. Then I repaired our relationship.

It was time I rewarded us with what we really wanted.

“Hands over your head, legs wide.” She obeyed, a coy smile on her lips.

I kissed my way down her abdomen, my cock rigid. She’d alluded to wanting this. She’d let it slip in small ways—her longing and desire. And I was nothing if not a pleasing husband.

“Keep your legs wide open for me, Wife.” She shivered, her eyes shuttering closed. “Eyes!”

She snapped her eyes open, her lips parted as her breathing became erratic. Fuck, she was so damn easy.

My Wife. My Love. She was everything.

“It’s time you start learning how to be a good little Princess.” The sound of her voice went straight to my cock. I had to unleash him before he busted through my zipper. I gripped him tight, trying to squeeze him into patient compliance. Down, boy.

I dove in, taking her clit in my mouth as I violently, and mercilessly sucked the swollen nerves into my mouth. She screamed. Her thighs slammed shut, her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Joe!” she keened, on the brink of pleasure.

I stopped, lifting my head. Her eyes shot open, looking down at me in panic. “What did I say about your eyes, and your legs?”

I landed my palm hard on her pretty, round ass, the sound of the spank echoed through the room. She whimpered. “I… Joe…”

She spread her legs as she stammered more sounds of sputtering disbelief.

“Be a good little Princess and do as you’re told!” I growled, before diving back to her clit, my fingers dipping into her heated channel. She squirmed, but she tried to keep her legs open. I’d give her points for that. After all, she was still learning.

But her eyes. Her fucking eyes shuddered closed as she let out a silent scream, her orgasm close.

I stopped moving, staring at her until she calmed down enough to notice what was happening, hovering over the edge of pleasure.

“Joe!” She cried out.

“What did I say about your eyes?” I wanted her to know why she was being punished. I wanted her to look me in the eyes with that combination of fear, and longing, that told me she’d do whatever I asked her to.

“To… to keep them on you.”

“That’s right, baby.”

“Please… I… I can’t… it’s too much.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

A short, undignified sound passed through her lips. She shook her head.

“Words, Princess.”

“I don’t… I don't want you to stop.” She blushed so beautifully.

Her juices were on my lips. I felt it on my beard, and scented it in the air.

It took us a long, tough year to get here. But now that she was ready, it would be all worth it.

“Today, we’re going to train this sweet little body of yours—” I cupped her cheeks in my two hands. “To orgasm over and over again. To accept it with beauty and complete, gorgeous, wifely obedience.”

Did I think obedience was a wifely duty? No. Not outside the bedroom. And I wouldn’t want it if she didn’t also desire it. If it didn’t get her off, I’d never bother.

“You’re going to learn how to handle multiple orgasms.” She shuddered in my arms, a small whimper escaped her lips. “You’ll learn to stay wide open, obedient, as I use you for my own pleasure. As I amuse myself with this sweet body of yours.”

Her chest heaved with shallow breaths, as her skin flushed with arousal.

“You’ll learn to come at your husband’s command.” I nipped at her clit, and she flinched. “And accept your punishments when you’re a disobedient, bratty little Princess.”

I smirked, because if she was this responsive now, then she’d be a complete mess when I brought her to the brink of painful, overwhelming overstimulation.

We weren’t getting out of bed today. I had no intention of letting her put on a stitch of clothing.

The only thing she’d wear was my ring on her finger, and a toy inside her.

“What’s your safeword?” I asked because that was the last moment of consent before I used her like my own personal play thing.

The moment of no return.

Her ragged breaths made her voice raspy. Her eager eyes begged me for the pleasure I’d just denied her. She was still afraid of giving me complete power over her, and that was fine. It took time. And I had an abundance of it.

“Safeword, Teri,” I coaxed, smoothing my hand over her thighs. “You want me to start? Tell me your safeword.”

She shut her eyes for a moment, as she relaxed her body, one muscle at a time. She mentally prepared herself for what was to come. A sign that she wanted this as badly as I did.

“What’s the safeword?” I gently demanded.

I wasn’t just asking for the word. I was asking for her trust, for her love, for her pleasure.

She opened her eyes, a slight smile on her wicked lips. She spread her thighs just a little more, the move making my cock bob in approval. She clasped her hands together over her head, and said, “Paris.”