The Billionaire's Bride

Chapter One – Just Married

Sated, for now at least, hand in hand, my Master and I exit his dungeon playroom, climbing stone steps to the ground floor and the main house.

“What would you like to do now, Elizabeth?”

“Simply being together is wonderful, Master. Perhaps a shower and then just settle into one of the rooms? Enjoy spending time with each other?”

His eyes fold into a smile. “I’d like that too. And… what? Talk? Listen to music? Watch a movie?”

“The music would be lovely. We could put something on in the background and just chat.”

“Sounds good. You pick something to listen to and go choose a bottle of wine. I’ll light the fire.”

As it turns out, Ross has anticipated us. The lounge is already warm and welcoming. Stacked with logs, in the hearth, flames flicker up the chimney from ashes, shimmering red-gold. Candles dotted around, here and there, add their own magic.

I pick out something to listen to, a slow, gentle piece. Bach and Pachelbel caress us with their play as, evening drawing in, we sit together in the dusk, sipping wine as deep and soft as velvet, rippled bronze by the dancing light.

My Master watches me. Not saying anything. He simply watches me, and I bask in the glow of his attention. My wonderful new husband has become my whole world. I can still barely believe that this amazing man chose me for his wife.

Still, after some time, the unwavering gaze becomes a little disconcerting. “Master?”

“Elizabeth?” His head tilts, the question in his eye.

“Is there something…?” Then the obvious strikes me. “Would you like to go upstairs? An early night?”

His lips curve. “After the first full day with my new wife? Yes, I think an early night would suit us well.” He nods toward the hearth where the bottle warms. “Why don"t we take the wine with us?”

*****

Unsure of my Master’s mood, I’d thought perhaps he might want me to dress for him. On my first brief foray around my new home, I quickly discovered that my clothes, previously housed in the penthouse suite we occupied together at the hotel, have been spirited here.

Did Ross do that?

My cheeks burn at the thought. Hopefully my Master himself did that. I want to ask but don’t quite like to. The wardrobe and drawers contain any number of corsets, basques and bustiers. Stockings and suspender belts. Teddies, bodices and babydolls. Thongs and French knickers. Bra and pantie sets.

I hover over the choice of a chemise in oyster-pink silk, or a filmy negligee in the jade green I wear so much of. My Master comes up close behind me, laying palms on my hips, nuzzling into my neck. “For tonight, just you, my Love. That’s all we need. All I want.”

Turning me at the shoulders to face him, he slips open the top button of my blouse, then the next. One step at a time, he opens my clothing, revealing the satin and lace of my bra. Sliding the blouse from my shoulders, he stoops to kiss the top of each of my mounded breasts, then loops a hand behind me, opening the clasps.

Shrugging off the bra, I wait. My Master is gentle, slow, his eyes lambent. We have s*x often, f*****g hard, but now it seems, he is of the mood to Make Love. Sighing, I let him do as he wishes. And what he wishes, becomes what I wish.

Make LoveA flutter behind me is a clasp popping open on my skirt, followed by the Click-Click of the sliding zipper. The garment slithers down, puddling around my feet and I step out of it. My Master stoops to pick it up, folding it neatly over the back of a chair, then standing back to look at me, naked now save for my panties.

Click-ClickHead tilting, he eye-points down and, obediently, I slip the scrap of satin and lace down, again stepping out of them.

For a moment he just looks at me, holding me in his gaze then, dropping to his knees, his hands cupping me behind, he drops inch by inch, kissing my navel, my belly, my mound, then nuzzles in toward my s*x, his breathing a deep, slow rush of air.

Briefly, he rests there, his face pressed into me then, husky-voiced, he backs away again, standing upright. “Get into bed.”

Naked now, I slip between sheets of cream silk, scattered with rose petals, deep red and fragrant as the wine. Sitting up against the headboard, I let the sheet gather at my waist, leaving my breasts exposed for my Master to enjoy. Sure enough, his eyes settle on me, fine lines radiating from the corners. Toeing off his shoes, peeling off socks, he pads barefoot to the table with the bottle, pouring two glasses of wine.

Sitting close by on the bedside, he passes one to me, briefly brushing my lips with his. Then, standing again, he faces me, letting me watch as he strips off his shirt, leaving himself bare-chested, wearing only the black jeans he favours. Well-cut to enhance long legs, and firm thighs and calves, belted tightly at the waist, they suit him so well.

Unbelting, unzipping, he tugs off the jeans, then pauses. “Elizabeth? Is something wrong?”

The burn returns to my face. “Um, no not wrong. I, er… I’d thought you would be… ready…”

readyHis lips quirk as he follows my gaze downward. “I thought we might just enjoy the wine and some more conversation for a little while.” He slides into the bed besides me, twisting to press another kiss to my mouth. “We have all evening.” He pauses, sips his wine. “In fact, we have the rest of our lives.”

My smile blooms. How can it not? Hiding happy confusion behind my glass for a moment, I sip too. “So we do.” Inside I’m warm, my core twitching awake, fluid and loose.

He tilts his glass to me. I meet it with mine. “To us.”

“To us,” I say. “Mr and Mrs Haswell.”

His own smile widens. White and bright and blissfully sincere. Abruptly, he pauses, hissing air inward.

And now, the question is mine to ask. “Master? Is something wrong?”

“No, not wrong,” he chuckles. “It’s just I find my body has different ideas on reasonable waiting times.” His eyes drop-point to where the sheet, around and about his groin level, is raising to propose a toast of its own…

… and I burst out laughing. “Where would you like me, Master?”

“Onto your back, Woman,” he growls. “I have business to complete.”

My Master’s words are rough, but his smile is tender. I roll to lie flat, displaying myself on the silken sheet, brushing rose petals one way and the other, then arching a little to present myself properly.

Raising my hips, I lift and part my knees, opening myself. Rolling atop me, his shaft pressed against my mound and belly, he supports himself on strong arms. Stooping, he brushes his lips over mine once more. “I love you, Elizabeth Kimberley. Thank you for marrying me.”

“Thank you, Master, for marrying me.”

you,Another kiss, light at first, then deepening as he lowers himself, wrapping arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a close embrace. His mouth opening over mine, his hips shift, and he angles his shaft to my entrance, testing me. He Hmmms. “One of the things I love about you, Elizabeth, not the only thing, but one of them, is that you’re always ready for me.”

Hmmmsalways“Always, Master. Always I want you. You make me feel… complete.”

He pauses, raising himself again to look into my face, his smile replaced by...

By what?

Almost a look of wonder.

His lips curve back into the smile. “We complete each other, my Love.” Then, lowering himself again, his cheek pressed to mine, he eases forward, entering me.

It’s a gradual penetration, a leisurely stretch of flesh and muscle as, little by little, inch by wonderful inch, he fills me. Slowly he moves, easing inward until, fully sheathed inside me, he releases his breath, a warm whisper of air by my face. “Ready, my Love?”

“Always, Master.” Canting my hips, I swing my legs up and over, the sheet slithering below me as I wrap my ankles around his waist, giving myself to him completely.

“Good girl.” He moves, withdrawing a smidge, then penetrating deeply once more. Again, a small movement, easing in, then out. Not a thrust, a mere stroke, smooth and easy-going, loosening me inside, opening me. My breathing deepens and I’m growing warm. Slick and flowing, I’m already there. I want my Master to take me. To claim me. To make me his once more. I want him to f**k me to a blissful c****x.

His movements grow; stronger, faster, more powerful. Our bodies rock together, shifting and sliding over each other, the flush of his flesh reflected in mine. The slight stubble of his chin scrapes at my softer skin. His aroma envelops me, musky, mixed with hints of the body-splash he used after the shower.

I’m flowing freely, my liquid core spilling between us, hot and slippery. As the heat of our enjoined bodies rises, the scent of s*x billows up and around, a pungent bloom, my own scent and that of my Master, the paired perfumes mingled as closely as our bodies.

And all the while, his beautiful shaft fathoms me.

Beneath me, the sheet is damp, slithering under me as I move. My Master lifts himself away, looking down on me; my face, my breasts. His face is flushed, sweat beading his forehead. The droplets merge, trickling a path down his cheeks, then dripping free. Some splash onto my nose and mouth, briny and hot on my lips. Others fall to the sheet, staining dark circles where they land.

His strokes grow ever more vigorous, ever more forceful. His breathing is heavier. Inside me, muscle thrumms, a low throb which, all the while, builds and grows, my twitching p***y dancing around my Master’s shaft, dragging a moan from my throat.

thrumms“Oh, God…”

God…As my lips part, he shifts, angling sideways, reaching down between my legs. Paired fingers slip around my clit, squeezing and manipulating, setting an electric pulse spiking inward. I buck and yelp. He chuckles, and now finger and thumb rotate over and around, kneading and massaging.

The throbbing inside mounts, a tension becoming a pulsing… The moan escapes again, now extending, drawing out to a wail…

“That’s it, my Love…” The twinned thumb and finger tighten on me, plucking at the already sensitised bud. “Come for me…”

I need no urging. My universe spins on an axis centred on my twitching clit and trembling core.

“Come for me…”

The trembling waxes, a flutter of the flesh that ripples and grows, as I brink. The flutter becomes a shudder, then…

“Come for me.” He pinches hard, and white-hot sensation sizzles the length of me. I scream, spasm, clutch…

Come… then explode into full-blown c****x.

My core clenches tight…

“f**k!” He gasps and groans…

… then pulsates through o****m, pumping juices that spill and scald over my thighs and his. I would flail and buck, but my Master still has an arm caging me to one side, his body weight over me. Trying to thrash, eyes squeezed closed, I simply shudder against hard muscle.

The massage on my clit is electrifying, elating, excruciating…

… Unbearable…

Unbearable“Enough, Master! Stop. Redhead. Redhead!”

Redhead!The fingers withdraw and my eyes peel open to see my Master smiling down at me. Once more, he presses his lips to mine, then his smile fades, his expression growing intense.

His eyes are great dark orbs set against his reddened face. Surging now, he drives into me, pounding my inner walls. Ramming home, his jaw sets, lips peeling back from bared teeth.

With a hoarse bark, a broken sound, his face contorts, then drops to my chest. Hips grinding, his pelvis rotating against me, he groans, shudders, spasms, then falls still.

Lying underneath, my legs still encircling him, I stroke sweat-soaked hair. His heart still drums double-time through his ribs. His breathing is laboured. But gradually he eases…

Rising, he props himself up on an elbow. “Thank you, my Love. That was… spectacular.”

“It always is, Master. Our lovemaking is never any other way.”

His smile widens, vivid and bright. “It is, isn’t it? I call that a winning formula.”

“Me too, Master. Me too.” I shift and the sheet crawls under me. Slick and wet, it’s tugged free of its tuck-under below the mattress, gathering in a twisted knot which digs in at hip and shoulder. “Master, these sheets. They look great, but…”

“Hmmm.” He plucks at the tangled mess. “Silk bedding always looks great in the movies, but it’s less than ideal in practice. We’ll change them tomorrow…” His face screws up… “Damn!” He rummages somewhere underneath himself… “And these f*****g things get everywhere.” He produces a wilted petal from I-don’t-want-to-guess-where, displaying it like Exhibit A in a murder case.

everywhere“They do, yes.” I fish another vagrant petal from my wine glass; one of many, scattered over the bed, the carpet, and fluttering out of the door to invade the hall beyond. “They"re going to be horrible to clean up tomorrow.”

My Master’s voice is dry. “So, isn"t it lucky that we"ll have someone coming in to do it for us?”

“We do? Just tomorrow?”

“No, of course not just tomorrow.” His forehead wrinkles. “You don"t think I bought this house for you to be a slave to cleaning it?”

“No, of course not. But it won"t take much cleaning. There"s only the two of us here. Most of the house will stand empty. Eight bedrooms is quite a lot.”

He havers, blowing out his cheeks. “We"ll have guests from time to time. And…” He takes my hand, holding the fingers, rubbing his thumb over the back. “… Perhaps one day there will be more than just the two of us?”

The question catches me by surprise. “I"m sure there will, Master, but...”

“Shhh... You"re not ready for that yet. I know it.” He rests his forehead against mine. “You have things you want to do with your life. Here...” Taking me in his arms, he rolls me down into a welter of silk and petals. “… Lie close. I want to feel you next to me.”

Shhh...As I slip into sleep, his words drift through my thoughts.

Things I want to do with my life...

*****