Page 33 of Dearly Unbeloved (Spicy in Seattle #3)

SIERRA

Olivia Newton-John had her time. It’s my turn now. - R

P.S. Did you fold my laundry? Are you okay?

R ose’s fingers brush the back of my neck, and I startle as I hear the tiny click of the collar lock. My hand flies to my throat, stopping it from falling.

“What are you doing?” I ask, holding the chain against my skin.

The panic in my voice surprises me, but I’ve become more than a little attached to the collar.

I woke up from a nightmare a few nights ago, imagining taking it off alongside my wedding ring, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with Rose.

But we don’t do that—sleeping together. We sleep together, but we don’t sleep together.

“Relax,” she says, brushing her hand over my bare back. “I’m only taking it off temporarily. I don’t want to risk damaging it. ”

She holds her hand out and I drop the chain in it, feeling somehow more naked, considering there’s not a scrap of fabric on me.

Rose sets the chain gently on her nightstand. “Don’t move.” I hear her shuffling around behind me, then I feel the warmth of her body against my back, her soft fingertips skating up my arms.

I lean back into her touch, my head settling against her chest. Rose bends down to kiss my head, and my eyes flutter closed. I want to memorize every second of this, the comforting, rainy scent of her, the warmth of her skin against mine. For later. For after.

She reaches for something, and a moment later, I feel a thick strap around my throat. The buckle jingles as she fastens it loosely. It’s heavy compared to the dainty chain I’m used to.

“It’s your choice,” she says, spinning the collar around my throat. “Do you want to make me come first? Or do you want to come first?”

“Whatever you prefer,” I say, instantly, because she could ask me to suspend myself in thin air and I’d find a way to do as I was told.

“I want you to choose, wife,” she murmurs, holding the collar tighter.

“You. I want to make you come first.” I expect her to loosen it again. But Rose tightens it.

“Too tight?” she asks as a whimper slips from my lips.

“No. No, it’s good.”

“Good. ”

She steps back, and it’s killing me not to turn around to see what she’s doing.

Which is the point, of course. She could easily have laid everything out in my line of sight, or I could easily have stood facing the mirror instead of the door so I could see what she was doing, but where’s the fun in that?

I like the unknown, the thrill of never knowing what’s next.

And Rose likes knocking me off my axis. It’s a game we’re both winning.

I hear soft footsteps and a quiet rattling as Rose crosses the room. Cool metal shocks my skin as she dangles a chain over my shoulder and drags the end up my torso. I groan, goosebumps erupting over every inch of my body.

Rose clips the end of the chain to the ring at the hollow of my throat. “Turn around and get on your knees.”

I drop to my knees in the middle of the room, sitting back on my feet with my hands on my lap, the carpet plush beneath me.

Rose walks backward, almost lazily, until the back of her legs hit the bed.

Her demeanor is cool and collected, but her body is flushed pink, almost as bright as the satin underwear she’s wearing because she knows this particular pair makes me feral.

She wraps the chain—the leash, fuck —around her fist several times until it’s pulled taut and I feel myself tugged forward ever so slightly. “Now be a good girl and crawl for me,” Rose says, and I swear I almost fall apart from the dark cadence of her voice alone.

I fall forward, crawling across the floor on my hands and knees, never taking my eyes off her. She draws me in with the leash, her lips parting and her chest rising and falling rapidly. I savor every second as I cross the room, stopping at her feet.

Rose runs her hand over my head, almost like she’s petting me, soft and sweet. Why the hell is that so fucking hot?

“Take off my underwear.”

I tug it down, and Rose steps out of it. She bends and picks it up, dropping the leash. “Stay,” she says, and I guess I wasn’t imagining the petting, because she does it again, before walking toward the dresser.

It should be degrading; it should piss me off. But I love it.

She didn’t tell me not to look, so I watch her set the underwear down, drinking in the sight of her. Rose grabs a bag I didn’t notice sitting there, and I can’t make out what’s in it before she’s back in front of me, slowly dragging the chain up my body until it’s tight around her fist again.

“Such a good girl,” she says, stroking her thumb over my cheek. I almost close my eyes, but I can’t look away from her.

Rose sits on the edge of her bed and spreads her legs. She tugs on the collar until I fall forward, bracing myself, one hand on either side of her thighs. My mouth is mere inches from her pussy, but she hasn’t given permission yet.

“Please, Rose,” I whisper, and she tugs the leash up so I’m looking at her face.

“Please, what?”

“Please let me make you come. I want to make you feel good. I need to. ”

She leans back, spreading her legs further. “Since you asked so nicely…” She pulls me in closer between her legs by the leash, and I groan as I breathe her in. I’ve become addicted to the taste of her, and I already know I’m going to have withdrawals in a couple of weeks.

The thought is sobering, but I push it away, focusing on Rose instead.

She holds the leash tight in one hand and sinks her other into my hair with surprising gentleness. “Is this okay?” she asks, tugging on the leash. “It’s not too tight? It doesn’t hurt?”

“It’s perfect,” I answer, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh. “You’re perfect. I love being entirely under your control like this.”

“Show me how much you love it, wife.” Rose pulls on the leash until my mouth is pressed against her, and I sigh happily. She’s so fucking wet, all for me, and it’s dizzying.

I close my lips around her clit, sucking lightly, and she curses, her head falling back.

“Stop a second,” she groans, and I pull back, frowning.

“Are you o?—”

Rose loosens the leash and reaches back, grabbing a pillow from the bed. “Straddle that. I want you to get yourself off riding my pillow while you make me come. You think you can do that for me?”

I’ve tried pillows before, but I’ve never been able to get close to coming by just grinding. I’m so turned on already, though, it’s possible I’ll fall apart the second the fabric touches my clit. “I can try. ”

Rose hands me the pillow, murmuring soft words of praise as I fold it and position the firmest part between my legs.

I sit down and roll my hips, moaning at the friction from the silky pillowcase. It’s never felt this good before, and I have to remind myself to focus, to lean in and put my mouth back on Rose.

Rocking my hips against the pillow, I lick and suck and nibble through the endless stream of whimpers falling from my mouth. When Rose’s thighs start trembling, I press one finger inside her, then two, curling them so I can massage her G-spot.

“Oh fuck,” she cries, grinding herself all over my face. “God, Sierra. That feels so good.”

Rose curses, tightening her grip on my hair. Her thighs close around my head, and it’s instinct to want to push them apart, but I resist. If she wanted me to, she’d tell me.

“Are you close?” she asks, and I don’t think she even realizes she’s pulling my hair. The tug sends a sharp jolt over my body, pleasure sizzling through me. “I want you to come with me. Can you do that for me?”

I barely pull back enough to groan a quick, “Yes,” before my tongue is exploring her again. I’m so fucking close, seconds from splintering, and I can feel Rose’s pussy tightening around my fingers already, but I don’t want it to end. It’s too soon.

It’s impossible to hold back, though, when she breathes my name and slips back on the bed, her body falling against the mattress as she comes. She doesn’t drop the leash, and the tug pulls me forward with her, stealing the breath from my lungs as I burst into flames.

I squeeze my thighs together as I come, but all it does is push the pillow harder against my clit, and I cry out, another wave coursing through me. Rose soaks my face, and I lick up every drop, paying special attention to her clit until she drops the leash and gently pushes me back.

“Too much. Fuck, too much.”

“Sorry,” I breathe, pulling back instantly. I already miss the taste of her.

Rose sits up and cups my chin. “Don’t apologize. That was perfect. You did so well.” She pulls me up until my face is level with hers. “Look at you. So fucking messy for me. Such a good wife.”

She brushes a kiss over my jaw before her tongue darts out and she licks around my chin, my jaw, my lips, cleaning me of her.

If it wasn’t so hot, I’d complain that I wanted that last little taste.

I forget all about that, though, when she slips her tongue in my mouth and kisses me so hard my brain goes quiet for a moment.

I cling to her, breathing hard when we break apart.

Rose searches my face. “You tapping out, or can you handle a little more?”

“I can handle whatever you have for me.” I mean it, but the challenging glint that appears in her hazel eyes has me doubting myself.

Rose stands and points to the mattress. “Crawl up the bed. Stop by the headboard.”

I kneel on the bed as she walks away, and I can tell from the number of steps she takes that she stops by the dresser, several feet away, with a perfect view as I crawl for her.

It’s hard to believe I asked her to turn the lights out the first time we were together, and now I’m on full display under her gaze.

A few months with Rose, and I’ve forgotten how it feels to be self-conscious of my body.

If she likes my body—and it meets her impossibly high standards—it must be okay, I suppose.

The leash drags along the bed as I crawl, stopping just before I kneel on the pillows. Rose settles behind me, and I gasp as I feel something soft and silky tickling my spine.

“Do you want your hands tied to the headboard, or behind your back?” she asks, tracing the silhouette of my body with the end of the ribbon.

I place my hands behind my back in answer, and Rose wastes no time wrapping the ribbon around my wrists. She loops the thick ribbon several times around each wrist, back and forth, before tying it in a knot.

“Is that okay?”

I test the restraints, and my wrists barely shift. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not sore. “It’s good.”

Rose reaches up and pulls the leash up my body. The chain is trapped between me and the mattress, and I cry out as it brushes my clit, the cool metal fucking heavenly. “I want you over my knee.”

There’s not much space, but I shuffle around and start to bend over her knee before she stops me. “The other way.”

I frown, unsure what she means, but she points in the direction she means. Naturally, it’s the most tricky position for me to get into and, of course, she does nothing to make it easier. She watches as I maneuver, tied up, orgasm-addled, without a word, but her eyes are dark with lust.

A sigh of relief spills from me when I finally bend over her knee, facing the direction she wants, and she runs her hand over my ass. “Good girl,” she murmurs. “You’re so good at doing what you’re told.”

I close my eyes, preening under her praise. She pulls a pillow closer and sets it under my head.

“Thank you.” My voice is already hoarse, and she’s not done with me.

“Open your eyes, Sierra. Turn your head the other way,” she commands, and I immediately do, sucking in a breath. She’s angled us so we’re framed perfectly by the mirror.

Rose brings her hand down on my ass with a gentle smack.

“Fuck,” I curse, squirming in her lap. “Am I being punished?”

She laughs, rubbing her hand over the spot where she smacked me. “Punishment implies you wouldn’t enjoy it. And you’ve been a good girl. This is a reward.”

She spanks me again, still softly. Too soft.

“More. Harder,” I beg, torn between squeezing my eyes closed because it’s too much, and watching in the mirror.

Rose hums. “What do you say if you want to stop?”

“Red.”

“If you want to slow down?”

“Yellow.”

“And if you like it?”

This time, she doesn’t hold back as she smacks me. The sound reverberates, mingling with the hoarse cry of her name as it escapes my lips.

“Well remembered,” is all she says before branding my skin with her palm, over and over, left, then right, until I’m a trembling, sticky mess on her lap.

She nudges my legs apart and, with a softer hand, smacks my pussy. For the first time, I fight against the ribbon tying my wrists together, needing to grab something, hold on to something to see me through the waves of pleasure creeping closer.

Rose rubs between my legs roughly, relentlessly, and I think I black out for a split second, because I blink and our reflections come into focus, and she’s pulling the dildo we picked up at the toy store out of the mystery bag.

It’s like it was waiting there just for us, just for me—a rosebud tip with thorn-shaped ridges winding down the shaft.

Rose presses the tip against my entrance, and I whimper.

“Okay?” she asks, and I nod.

“Mhmm. I can take it.”

“Of course you can.” Her voice is soft and soothing as she presses the rose inside me, slowly, then all at once.

My nails bite into my palms as I clench my fists.

My body fights to move, not to get away, but for more.

More, more, more. Rose obliges, pulling the toy out and sliding it back in, every thrust a little faster, a little harder.

The thorny ridges feel like heaven, striking every nerve ending inside me like a match and setting me ablaze.

With her free hand, Rose slaps my clit, and I explode. The orgasm that takes over me is demanding, forcing me to feel it over every inch of my body. My moans turn into cries until I hit a peak, and the sound is stolen from my throat.

Rose slows down, gently circling my clit and drawing the toy out of my pussy, letting me float down from the high, light as a feather. My brain is quiet, my body limp, and, right now, I can’t remember what stress feels like.

A gentle hand runs through my hair before Rose leans down to kiss the top of my head. And, for a second, I forget that she doesn’t want me like I want her.