Victorious(43)

“I can do early.”

He sends off another text, presumably to Emmett, and puts the phone in his pocket. “I believe you were supposed to be doing something in here. I’ll leave you to it.”

“But… You still want to do that? Now?”

“Why not now? Your punishment has ended, and it’s time.”

“You’re not angry? About the FBI?”

“No, I’m not. We didn’t do anything, so we have nothing to be angry about, other than the inconvenience of it all. If you’re asking if I’d ever take anger or frustration or anything like that out on you, the answer is a definitive no. If I were truly angry about anything, having to do with you or not, I’d never lay a hand on you. You have my word on that.”

“Thank you for saying it, but I already knew that.”

With a quick nod, he turns and heads for the door. “I’ll be back. Be ready.”

As an independent woman, it should raise my hackles to be told what to do in that brusque tone. But it doesn’t raise my hackles. It turns me on because I know when he talks to me like that, pleasure will follow.

I go into the bathroom to brush my hair and teeth. Even though my body is sore and tired, I experience the now-familiar signs of arousal. I remove my clothes, and since I expect him to make me wait anyway, I decide to take a quick shower. After covering my body in the citrus-scented lotion that Flynn loves, I go to the bed and get into the position he’s requested.

My bottom is at the edge, my legs are propped apart, and I’m staring at the ceiling, waiting. That’s when the vibrating begins.

Damn him! He’s taking full advantage right up to the bitter end. If the vibration weren’t so arousing, I’d laugh at how he’s playing the game. But there is nothing at all funny about the way the vibrating plug sets my body on fire. Even after everything we’ve already done today, I’m primed for more by the time he enters the room, stopping the vibration with his arrival.

He has also showered. His hair is damp, he’s naked and fully aroused. “I love the way you do whatever I ask, that you’re game for anything.”

“I love that you’re sharing this side of yourself with me.”

“Even when I punish you by making you wear a plug for hours?”

“Even then.”

“You’ve been a very good sport.” He drops to his knees and flattens his hands on my inner thighs, pressing them farther apart.

I wince at the tug of overused muscles protesting the movement.

“Are you sore, sweetheart?”

“A little.”

“We were kind of crazy today.”

“We’re newlyweds. We’re supposed to be crazy.”

“There’s crazy—and then there’s today. I don’t want to push you too hard or too fast.”

“I know how to put a stop to it if I need to.”

“I like to hear you say that, to know you get it.”

I feel the scrape of his stubble against my inner thigh.

My body immediately arches toward him. The impulse is automatic. I want to be close to him. I need to be close to him. He opens me to his tongue and strokes my tender skin gently, soothing as much as arousing. I’m floating on a wave of sensation, and then the buzzing begins again. The next stroke of his tongue takes me right to the edge of madness.

“Not yet,” he whispers as he begins to pull on the plug, dislodging it and then reseating it. He does that again and again as he continues to tease my clit with his tongue.

I’m going to lose my mind if he keeps this up much longer. This is the slowest, easiest thing we’ve done all day and yet it’s more. It’s engaging every sense, every erogenous zone. My skin feels hot and too tight to contain all the things he’s making me feel as the plug continues to move in and out of me until he removes it completely, replacing it with his fingers.

“You have permission to come, Natalie.”

I explode, screaming and writhing, my hands fisting his hair to keep him from getting away.

Then he’s screaming, too, and pulling away from me so abruptly that I come crashing back to earth to realize Fluff is attacking him.

“Fluff, no! Stop!” I jump from the bed on rubber legs that threaten to buckle under me to pull her off him. “Bad girl!”

“Oh my God, she bit me right on the ass!”

He spins around and tries to see behind him, his hard penis flopping as he jerks his body into contortions.

I can’t help it. I begin to laugh. I laugh so hard that tears stream down my face and Fluff tries to lick them up, the way she’s done so many times before. Those were heartbroken tears. These are joyful tears because my husband is so cute and funny as he tries to get a look at his wounded backside where there isn’t so much as a mark.

“Don’t worry,” I say, gasping from laughing, “your career as a butt model hasn’t been ruined.”

“How can you laugh at a moment like this? She attacked me when I was going down on you! I had my fingers in your—”

I cuddle Fluff to my chest and put my hands over her ears. “Not in front of Fluff! You left the door open.”

He advances toward us, a comically sinister expression on his face. “Are you saying it’s my fault because I left the door open?”