Page 117 of Condemned By Betrayal
“You don’t have to treat m-me like I’m too fragile,” I murmur.
“I wasn’t planning to.” He presses a soft kiss on my lips, then flips me over, grabs both of my wrists, and holds them behind my back, pushing my knees up and positioning himself behind me.With a strong tug at my wrists, he pushes himself inside me all at once. I cry out, as the fullness return.
My legs shake, unable to bear even an ounce of his weight, but I don’t need to worry, because he notices and grabs my waist, leaving my wrists to keep me up, and then starts pounding inside me with maddening speed and thrusts.
I press my cheek into the mattress. My neck strains under the weight of my upper body, but I don’t ask him to slow down or change position. I need to feel this, to show myself I can still get pleasure the way I want.
He snakes his arm around my waist and bends over me, pressing his other arm under my shoulders and pulling me up. He holds me there while keeping his thrusting strong and steady.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek against mine. The hot huskiness in his voice makes me clench around him, and the friction gets stronger, making me moan as my release builds.
“Fuck, baby. Squeeze me tighter,” he groans.
I do as he says, without even trying.
“Yes, that’s my good girl.” And I cum, crying out, “Don’t cum inside,” shaking in his arms.
He keeps hitting me through my release, making it more intense and blinding. I keep shaking even after he pulls out of me. Once I calm down a bit, I realize I’m clenching his arm around my waist with the tightest grip I’ve mustered in weeks. I release his arm. My hands don’t shake the way they would have if I’d applied this much force in any other situation.
He kisses me all over my neck, sitting back down on the mattress and keeping his hold over my waist and shoulders. “Looks like fucking is good for you.”
I chuckle. “I think s-so. M-must have s-something to do with an active parasympathetic nervous s-sy-system.”
I point to the headboard and pillows. “You m-made too m-mu-much of a m-mess.”
He tilts my face and kisses along my jaw. “Your fault, baby.”
I grin. “You s-should s-start buying condoms.”
He meets my eyes. “Why can’t I cum inside you?”
My smile drops. “I don’t want to get pregnant before the drug is completely out of m-my s-system. I don’t want our child to be affected by it.”
He kisses my lips. “It’s alright, you don’t have to feel sad about it.”
I turn in his arms and sit on his thighs. “You wanted to have kids so badly. I feel bad for not being able to fulfill your dream.”
“I wanted to have kids so that you’d have a big reason to stay with me.”
My mouth parts in shock. “Here I was thinking you’d gotten old enough to feel the need to pass on your genes, and that’s why you wanted kids so badly.”
“I’m not that old.”
“You are,” I tease. “I think I s-should s-start calling you ‘Daddy’ s-so you realize it better.”
He pinches my chin, tilting it up further. “You know what it does to me when you call me old, or anything similar.”
I grin. “Do you know the r-r-reason behind it?”
He frowns. He’s never thought there could be a reason behind it. There is. Well, I can’t prove it or anything, but based on what little knowledge I have of psychology, there is a reason.
“I used to call you old, and then you used to punish m-me for it. That always led to us ending up doing good s-stuff. Nowyou don’t have the m-memory, but the instinct is s-still there. It’s classic conditioning, your brain learned to associate the word ‘old’ with the pleasure that followed, s-so even without the m-memory, the association triggers arousal. Your body r-remembers what your mind forgot.”
“My wife is quite brilliant,” he says with a proud smile.
“I’m not your wife,” I chuckle.
His smile disappears. “Thanks for reminding me. We’re getting married next week.”
