Erin McCarthy - Full Throttle

His mouth was close to her ear and when he spoke, she shivered. It didn’t seem like a time for conversation, but then again, nothing with Rhett was what she was used to.

“Just so we understand, when we’re not in bed, you’re the one in charge, Shawn. You tell me what you want, where you want me to be, how you want me to act. I’ll wash dishes, take out the trash, be the perfect husband in public, give you your space in private, whatever you decide. You call the shots. But here, in bed, I’m in charge. You have no say. You get to ask no questions and you have to obey, but I promise you, you’ll never go to sleep unsatisfied. Do you understand?”

A shiver rushed up her spine and she swallowed hard, his words sinking as deeply as his cock into her and she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered, because she couldn’t say no. If she said no, he would pull out of her and leave her with the most profound sense of emptiness she’d ever experienced.

When he began to stroke inside her, she knew it was the right answer to give. She couldn’t imagine not having this, him, pumping into her with a perfect rhythm, his hands dropping to her hips so he could pull her back against him with each thrust, the slap of their bodies ringing in the room. Each push came so fast that she barely had time to breathe, none to moan, her eyes rolling back in her head as she struggled to keep her body from shattering.

Rhett leaned forward and skimmed her hair back from her ear and cheek with callused fingers, his rhythm never breaking. “You can come now,” he told her, and his voice was softer than she expected, almost worshipful, like she had pleased him.

“Thank you,” she said most sincerely, because she couldn’t contain it any longer. She let go, and immediately burst into the most intense orgasm she’d ever experienced. “Oh, God!”

It was all-consuming, and Shawn cried out again and again as the waves of satisfaction rolled over her, her awareness of her own body, her own pleasure, the most acute it had ever been. This wasn’t just an orgasm, this was something else, something she didn’t understand, and she felt like Rhett was ripping something raw and elemental and powerful from her. As the climax quieted, she blinked, and felt the tear roll down her cheek as she sucked in deep, ragged breaths.

Oh, God was right.

RHETT had never enjoyed a woman’s orgasm as much as he had Shawn’s. The fact that she had waited until he gave permission, then literally came thirty seconds after he granted it was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. She was exactly what he wanted—strong and able to control herself, her willingness to submit more arousing because she wasn’t normally passive.

He had introduced her to the game, and so far, she seemed to find it to her liking.

Her tight pussy gripped his cock, massaging him through the throes of her orgasm, wet heat surrounding him. It was harder to maintain his own control with her, because she felt so amazing, but he had already discovered that the harder he had to work to maintain control, the more electric his whole body felt.

When she shuddered to the end of her climax, he tilted her chin slightly so he could see her, and he was shocked to see that her eyes were wet with tears, a single streak sliding over the flushed skin of her cheek. Her lip was swollen, the dried blood in stark contrast to her normally silken perfection.

The last thing he wanted to do was actually hurt her. Worried, he asked quickly, “Are you okay?”

She shook her head slightly. “What just happened?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Then he understood. He hadn’t hurt her. She had just felt what he had, that something had shifted between them. That their connection was strong, elemental, intimate.

He didn’t give her an answer. He just started to move again, watching her face to see how quickly the needs of her body would crowd out her confused thoughts. It didn’t take long. Within a minute or two, she was sighing in renewed pleasure, her shoulders relaxing. Rhett took a slow, languorous pace, closing his eyes and allowing himself to experience the full feeling of her body open for him, for him only.

When he felt her responding, wetness soaking him, her inner passage tightening, he didn’t want her to fight it. “Yeah, that’s it, baby, come for me again. I love to feel you come.”

Her orgasm was quieter this time, soft sighs and loose hips, and Rhett allowed himself to indulge in the satisfaction of having gotten her off three times, her second time so intense it had brought tears to her eyes. Because of him. He had pleasured her that thoroughly. He thrust harder. She moaned a little in ecstasy. She was his to command in this bed, yet the thing he wanted more than anything was for her to be satisfied, and that she was, and so relatively easily, had him pounding harder into her willing flesh.

This was only the start of the pleasure he could give her.

Still maintaining a tight grip on his own desire, because he never allowed himself full loss of control, Rhett exploded in her with a hot pulsing orgasm, gripping her hips tightly.

Hell, yeah.

He stopped moving, letting his heart rate slow down. When he gradually withdrew, he ground his teeth together in both satisfaction and the need for more. But it was enough for now. Shawn wasn’t ready for more.

Still on his knees, he leaned over her and ran his hands down her arms to where she was still gripping the bed. Rhett pulled her up, massaging her hands, pressing his chest to her back so they were perfectly aligned, flesh to flesh, his lips on the nape of her neck. Bringing their entwined hands together in front of her stomach, he breathed in the scent of her, holding her close, enjoying the feeling of sexual satisfaction, the knowledge that he had been granted an unexpected and extraordinary gift.

The next six months were going to be amazing.

“You tired?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

He kissed her cheek. “Then let’s get some sleep.”

He released her so she could settle down onto the bed. Her hands were shaking as she pulled the bedding they had destroyed into some semblance of order.

Handing her the T-shirt he had torn off her earlier, Rhett knew she was feeling vulnerable, so he stood up and went to get her a new pair of panties. He found a pair that looked like simple everyday-use cotton and handed them to her. She met his gaze, her cheeks pink, but then she looked away, already in her sleep shirt. He wanted to sleep naked, but he didn’t think she was in the right place for that, and he wanted to respect her feelings.

“Can I get you a drink or anything? I’m running to the bathroom.”

“Water would be great.” Shawn lifted her knees and her bottom to slide on the new panties, and Rhett caught a visual reminder of his orgasm, a wet trail down her inner thigh.

She clearly wasn’t intending to go clean it off, and he felt a hot punch of possessiveness. He liked to see his come rolling down her leg. It made her his. His wife.

Unnerved himself, Rhett moved out of the room abruptly.

In the bathroom, he cleaned himself off and stared at himself in the mirror, the harsh fluorescent lighting forcing him to squint. He was going too far. He already knew it. He was attaching.

He frowned at his reflection, hands on the smooth marble countertop, the cold a sweet relief to the heat of the bedroom. This should be a warning. He should dial back on the sex with Shawn, take a more vanilla route with her.

Instead, all he wanted to do was go back in the bedroom and start on her all over again until she was quivering with want and coming at his command.

But when he returned with a glass of water for her, she was already asleep.

He tried to tell himself it was for the best, but he didn’t believe it.

SHAWN woke up with a start, hot under the covers and desperate for a drink. She’d been dreaming about being chased by a tiger, who had backed her into a corner and bared his teeth at her. Heart racing, she rolled onto her side and realized why it was so unusually warm. Her body was being heated by Rhett’s, who was sleeping a mere two inches away. She could feel the warmth radiating off him like a toaster oven. The sun was starting to come up, a sliver of light spreading across the carpet of the bedroom floor.

Swallowing the thick lump that was in her throat, she pushed her hair off her face and studied him. She didn’t know if he was naked below the waist, but he was on top, his arms both out from under the comforter, his head turned toward her. She felt a tender urge to reach out and stroke his cheek, his jaw, but she squashed it, her feelings too muddled. Last night she had done things, said things, allowed things that she didn’t understand and she felt vulnerable, stripped bare.

When he shifted a little, she quickly looked away, afraid he would wake up. There was a glass of water on her nightstand, clearly brought to her by Rhett. She didn’t remember falling asleep, just that when he’d left the room, she’d been relieved. Relieved to be back in protective cotton, the covers over her, her cheeks itchy from crying, her inner thighs hot and sticky. She hadn’t been able to get up, afraid her legs wouldn’t work, afraid she might actually start crying in earnest.

A week ago, she had woken up alone, happy, healthy, content for the most part, heir apparent to the speedway, a single, confident businesswoman.

Now she was . . . what? A wife? A submissive? Terrified? Exhilarated? More sexually satisfied than she had ever been?