Chapter 23

My body tensed as I tried to decipher his question. Did I love him? Of course, I did. He was the man I’d married.

The loving man who cares for me, no matter what. Well, until now. Until I’d betrayed him.

“Yes,” I replied before moaning and hanging my head to peek under myself as his fingers skimmed my pulsing rosebud. In that icy room, time and the universe were flickering. Somehow, he’d moved without me noticing and once more stood behind me.

“Good. And I want you to know something. No matter what’s happened, I still love you, too.” His digits lifted, but blunted wood eased through my slippery curtains. Again, I swayed with a whimper. “But ... It’s this or divorce, Laura. Your choice.”

Before I had a chance to reply, the spoon whooshed through the air.

Smack.

At that first stinging blow, a scream burst from my lips. Though it wasn’t hard, the sudden strike was still a shock. In all our years together, he’d never even hinted at hitting me. And certainly not with me like that, naked and on all fours. As the skin of my butt heated, my lungs struggled to suck in air.

The spoon whizzed once more.

Smack.

When that one landed on the other, shuddering cheek, Dave, the love of my life, slid his caressing fingers over the site of the first hit.

“If my slut ever. Ever! Fucks anyone without my knowledge again, she will be beaten.”

While I sucked in lungfuls of oxygen and the stings on my skin flared, he dragged the damp spoon along my arching spine. Under its hard, smooth edges, my body curled and twisted.

Smack.

Another scream fled from my panting mouth, and I lurched forward. While chewing on my lips, I braced for the next blow.

“And if my horny little slut ever comes without my permission again, she will be beaten.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

The rapid strikes had me biting deep into my lower lip. With tears streaming from my eyes, the room blurred as pain arced across my rear. As I swung my head, gasping for air, the burning skin continued to flare under the gentle rubbing of his outstretched fingers. My dear sweet husband had such nice hands.

But I shuddered. How many times had I come already? Without my love’s permission.

As drool fled my parted, shaking lips, he stood silent above me. His hand continued to caress the fresh welts. Warm sliding fluid coated my trembling legs, and the aroma of my arousal flooded the room.

“So, Laura.” His fingers tightened on my behind, sending electricity through every nerve. “For the record, are you a naughty little slut?”

As I struggled to get adequate oxygen for words, the spoon soared once more.

Smack.

“Yes!” I screamed out as my face flew upward amid a flailing curtain of my battered tresses.

“And you’re my slut?”

Again, not able to breathe, I wasn’t fast enough. The sodden, hard wood slapped into my shaking ass once more.

Smack.

“Yes,” I groaned, seeking to turn my head to my tormenting, loving husband. With the fires across my burning skin roaring, I tried but failed to slurp at the long trails of saliva dribbling from my shaky lips. Then I yelled out while he rubbed his hands over my heaving buttocks, “I’m your big black cock-loving slut!”

“Whore wife,” Dave added calmly, digging his fingers deep into my trembling flesh.

“Um-hmm, your big black cock-loving whore wife.” I nodded through my dangling strands, still whipping my head to find him.

“Good. We have an understanding.” He moved to remain just out of view. “My wife. My whore. My slut.”

With that, he passed me, tossed the wooden spoon next to the empty tumbler on the table, and returned to the chair. When I finally raised my gaze to him, he said nothing. His eyes were still just as ... Just as dead. His face was not even flushed. As he stared, his fingers tapped on the glass. At the same slow, steady pace, his chest rose and fell.

Yeah, he’d done a lot of thinking while away. All the thinking I’d not done while...

Ass afire and cleft leaking, I was suddenly desperate for oxygen. My head drooped, and I gaped at the hazy, drool-spattered carpet.

After the sound of his zipper opening, there was no noise but for my heavy breathing for a long while. When he crunched on an ice cube, I rolled my lips, inhaled a curt gulp of air, and moved my first palm towards him. As it sank into the carpet, my knee slid forward. Soon, skin burning from the blows with every motion, I was crawling toward my husband as he spread his legs. His zipper lowered further.

Once I’d halted before him, he swept sweaty, ragged auburn strands from my face. While staring into those cold dark eyes, I eased my fingers into his open trousers. Heat seared my fingertips when they encircled steel-hard, smooth flesh. A grin, that same tight, wince-like slash, crossed his lips when I tugged him free.

Just as I was about to lean in to lash his helmet with my tongue, I yelped. Steely digits burrowed deep in my hair, he jerked me upward to glare into my face. In all our years together, I’d never seen him wear such an expression.

“Nice and slow, my little whore slut.” The corners of that flat grin twitched. “I’m not one of your black friends, Laura dear. I want to watch you work.”

Still in my tresses, his fingers loosened. Oh, if there was a message I’d received loud and clear: I’d have to be my husband’s very best “little whore slut.” Our lives depended on it. Well, if I wished for us to stay together. And I did. More than anything in the blurry, pulsating universe.

When I bent forward to plant a soft kiss on the yielding, yet hard, helmet, he sighed. One more quick exhale sent a heated breath, smelling of whiskey over me as my tongue poked at its slit. A moan left him when I sank further, engulfing him, then pushing the slick, throbbing mass into my throat. The rawness was now gone, and his smooth, hot flesh glided further. When I lifted my shoulders, the angle was perfect. And with a slow twist of my head, feeling my neck bulge, I could take him all the way inside me.

“Mmm, my.” He gulped as my lips rolled in his curly pubes. “Just look at how many new tricks you’ve learned, Laura, whoring for Derrin.”

“Ungh-hungh,” I agreed, after rising to slurp his spongy knob.

“Well, lucky me, I guess.” His tone chilled even as he spoke. Without warning, he yanked my hair and ripped my mouth from him, leaving glistening saliva swaying from my lips. “But listen up, dear. I’m not kidding anymore. I don’t give a fuck about Derrin, Troy, Rio, or any of the others.” Our eyes locked. At last, his dark coals blazed. “From now on, you’re my slut. Mine. Not theirs.”

When all I did was gape at him, trails of drool slapping across my shaking tits, he gritted his teeth. Fingers clawing at my skull, he shoved me to his root once more. He held me there until, vision blurring, I slapped his thighs with my hands, desperate for air.

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