Own Me

I bind his hands together, tie those to the bedpost, then spread his legs and straddle him, smirking down at his prone form.

It’s not my usual thing. I much prefer being in his position generally. But sitting across his waist, feeling the hard press of his cock beneath me, and watching his eyes dilate with desire, his chest rise

and fall as his breath speeds up, all the while knowing that I am in complete control of his pleasure now… Well, I can see why he enjoys being in this position so much.

I lean down to kiss his chest lightly, right over the sensitive spot where his fresh tattoo is inked. He jumps beneath me, hands tight around the bonds I tied.

I smile and lightly blow on his chest, trailing my head down his torso, past his abs, toward his erect cock. He shivers the whole time, and when I lightly bite his hip, letting my teeth dig in just enough that he’ll feel it, he gasps and jerks against the bonds.

Yeah. Definitely can see why he likes this.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, his voice torn between wry sarcasm and an undercurrent of lust that he can’t hide.

“Very much. Aren’t you?” I glance up at him and wiggle my eyebrows.

“I have to admit, you’re sexy when you know what you want,” he murmurs, grinning.

“Mm…” I run my hands over the plane of his stomach, tracing his abs, all the way down to the V-cut that leads to his groin. “I must always be sexy, then.” My eyes flash to his. “Because I always know what I want.”

“No disagreement here.” His smirk widens.

“Don’t worry,” I add, raising my eyebrow at him. “I’ll let you have your way with me soon. I just wanted to taste you first…”

He tenses, and with that, I dip my head to trail my tongue along the length of his full, glorious cock. He is too fucking sexy. Not to mention, I can never get enough of the way he tastes. That heady scent of his surrounding me, as I lick and suck his thick, hot cock. He barely fits in my mouth, and yet I love forcing him deeper, straining to take him in as deep as I can. When the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, I slide back up his length, my lips clamped tight around him, my tongue tracing the familiar ridge along the underside of his cock.

At the tip, I swirl my tongue around him, lapping up a drop of pre-cum that was glistening on his tip, just waiting for me to taste him. God, I cannot get enough of this man.

He’s breathing hard, his eyes closed, and I look up at him, enjoying the view from here as I slide my lips down his cock again, my hands toying with his balls as I do.

“Fucking hell,” he murmurs, and when I glance up again, he’s watching me do this, enjoying the view. I part my lips, flick my tongue along his smooth, velvety length, turned on as hell by the way he devours the sight. “You are dangerously good at that, Mrs. Vos.”

Fireworks light up my belly at the sound of my new name in his mouth. Mrs. Giovanni Vos. I could definitely get used to that.

I grin and suck him into my mouth again, watch him groan and pull at the restraints.

“Unfortunately,” he adds, once he’s recovered from that burst of sensation, “You’ll have to stop soon. Unless you don’t want to find out what I had in store for you…”

I pause, hovering over his cock, torn. On the one hand, I would like to make him finish, to taste his cum again–I can never get enough of that taste. On the other hand, I’ve been waiting far too long to learn what he has in store for me tonight…

With a sigh of regret, I slide back up his body, pausing along the way to kiss his abs, his pecs, his neck, finally his lips, sinking into the kiss as his tongue parts my lips to explore my mouth. Then I reach up over his head and undo the knot in the rope, freeing his hands.

Gio wastes no time. The moment the rope falls away, he has me in his arms, flipping me over, pinning me beneath him as he redoes the knots, this time around my wrists. I squirm against the bed, grinning over my shoulder.

He smirks down at me, and slaps my bare ass once, hard, with the flat of his palm. I squeal, as he laughs softly. “That’s for tying me up,” he says. Then he leans in and kisses the spot he just smacked, his lips a spark against my sensitive skin. “And that’s also for tying me up,” he adds with a grin. “Now it’s your turn…”

He draws something out from under the pillows, and has it wrapped around my eyes before I even realize it’s a blindfold.

I pout as he ties it around the back of my head. “I was enjoying that view,” I protest.

His hand finds the sore spot on my ass again, and I tense. But he just massages me gently, his fingers dancing across my skin. “Don’t worry. You’ve got the rest of your life to enjoy it,” he says, his voice hot and close beside my ear, making me shiver.

Part of me still can’t quite believe this is my life. That we made it here, after everything we had to go through. That I found a man like Giovanni, so kind and caring and thoughtful–and yet so wickedly sexy in bed.

I’m tense, anticipating what he’ll do next. Tie my ankles? Use toys? Pull out the new vibrator we got last week, or some other new toy he’s been hiding from me? Or maybe he’s in the mood for the paddle… I shiver a little. But if there’s anything I’ve learned from my time with Gio, it’s that the anticipation of what he might do is half the fun. It’s what gets me wetter than anything–imagining all the pleasure and pain he’s cooking up for me.

There’s a sting of something hot against the small of my back, and I gasp, arching my neck. But the heat quickly cools into a pleasant, soft sensation. Then his fingers dig in, and I catch the scent of lavender oil. I realize he’s gotten a scented candle, one melts into massage oil.

That one, I didn’t see coming.

I relax into the sheets as his fingers work their way over my body. He starts with my back, kneading out knots along the length of my spine, then out under my shoulder blades and around my ribcage, pressing hard enough that I gasp occasionally, and yet it’s such an amazing sensation of release. There were all these knots I didn’t even know were there, making me tense and holding in my stress. When he reaches my shoulders, both of us have to laugh because I’m just a mess of knots there.

“Was something stressing my lovely wife?” he asks, in a low voice that’s a mixture of concern and a touch of rebuke. Gio doesn’t like it when I hide stresses from him. He always wants me to tell him what’s going on with me, what my concerns are, what problems I might have… It’s sweet, how he always wants to share my pain points in life. But sometimes I feel bad dumping it all on him. Especially this kind of stress.

“Wedding planning just took a lot out of me,” I admit, my voice low and distracted as he continues to knead my shoulders, digging his thumbs in hard to the tougher kinks. I groan as he releases one particularly thick muscle spasm. “You know, between Mom freaking out about the guest list and making sure our day would be perfect…”

Gio leans over to kiss the side of my neck gently. “I married you,” he says. “It would have been the perfect day even if it was just the two of us in a mud-covered tent in the middle of nowhere.”

I smile, feeling another thrill of sparks in my belly. “I know.” I tilt my head so he can reach my lips, and he obliges, kissing me deeply. “I just wanted to make sure it went well, because…” I shrug, and he grips my shoulders hard, forcing me to lie flat against the bed again. “Because I wanted to show you how much I care about you with this wedding.”

He sighs, a long and belabored sound. “My silly little slutty wife.” He slaps my ass, but lightly this time, with affection. “Haven’t you realized by now that I already know how much you love me? You don’t need to prove it to me with big shows of affection.” His hand trails up my arms to touch the rope around my wrists. “Or by tying me up,” he adds, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

“I know I don’t need to,” I protest, pushing myself up onto my elbows so I can turn toward him. Even though I’m blindfolded, he knows me well enough by now that I’m sure he can imagine the expression on my face. “I want to.”

He kisses me again, softly, and then starts working on my arms. That distracts me enough that I fall back onto the sheets, sighing as he kneads my biceps, my forearms, all the way up to my fingers, which he teases out from around the rope and rubs one at a time.

Then he slides down my body, making sure to press himself against me so tha

t I can feel his cock pressed into the small of my back, gliding over my ass and down along my inner thigh. He adds another fat, hot dollop of the hot wax to my ass, and works that in with strong fingers, squeezing my ass, the backs of my thighs, my calves, all the way down to my feet, which he massages gently after sliding off my heels, spreading his fingers between my toes, working at my soles until any remaining tension I felt from wearing those heels or my wedding shoes before them melts away.

I feel like a puddle now, utterly relaxed, totally submissive. I couldn’t move if I wanted to–and I definitely don’t want to.

Only then do I feel Gio spread my legs and position himself between them, his cock sliding up and down my slit, coating himself in the massage oil that dripped between my legs, mingled with my own juices as my excitement builds.

When he slides into me, both of us gasp with want. He only thrusts a few times though, before he stretches his body over mine and undoes the knots around my wrists. “I need to see your face,” he murmurs as the rope falls away.

I tear off the blindfold the moment I can, and he pulls out of me just long enough to flip me over beneath him, then comes back down against me, our bodies pressed together, chest to chest. This time, when he pushes into me again, I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, and pull his whole body against me as he starts to fuck me.

“Fuck yes,” I sigh into his neck, before he tilts my head back with one strong hand and gazes directly into my eyes as he continues to fuck me, faster now, our hips bucking against one another, both of us moving in earnest.

“I love you, my beautiful wife.” His voice is low and husky, full of emotion, which I can also see written all over his face. He doesn’t even need to tell me he loves me–though of course it’s nice to hear. I can see it in his eyes, the way he gazes into mine.

“I love you, husband,” I reply, my own voice thick as well. It’s the first time I’ve called him that. The first time for the rest of our lives.