Bought By The Billionaire - BDSM 18 novel Chapter 42

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’d 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 sex often, fucking 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.

A flutter behind me is a clasp popping open on my skirt, followed by the Click-Click of the zipper sliding down. 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.

Head tilting, he eye-points down and, obedient, 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 sex, his breathing a deep, slow rush of air.

… 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.”

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.”

“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 fuck me to a blissful climax.