Papers for Roses

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen

Wade

He watched.

He watched and watched as seconds passed by in the otherwise lowly illuminated, steamy room. Standing on the doorway, with both hands in his pocket, Wade provoked the exposed, porcelain body with his sapphire daggers.

He felt himself twitch several times, straining inside the confine of his tight boxer, but he chose to stare and stay still. His wife tried to look tough—lying on her back at the center of the bed, her knees curved on the pillow—as she waited.

Sweat dotted her palms, her toes shaking reflexively, her mouth curled into a venomous sneer. He stood there motionless and impassive, but at that moment, he finally allowed himself to smirk. "Sneering can earn you a punishment."

Her chest rose as she sucked in a breath, "Fuck you."

"Punishment number two." His tone was glacial, like his eyes.

She remained silent. Tried to relax her face, but she was failing miserably. He noted this as she worried her bottom lip, looking anywhere but him, her brows knitted mildly.

It's time. He pushed himself off the doorway and strode toward his dresser. He noticed head turned to his direction out of the corner of his eye. "What is your safe word?" he asked as he rummaged through his drawers.

"Floozie."

"What do you want to call me here, Megan?" He found what he was looking for and put it on top of the dresser. Then he moved at the edge of the bed, regarding her with a lazy sweep.

He watched her throat working hastily, her slender neck glistening in a thin layer of sweat. I would have loved to lick it later. A rough, calloused finger ran along the smoothness of the insides of her thighs. She gasped as his movement stilled, pushing reverently, yet avoiding the throbbing flesh waiting for his undivided attention. "I'd prefer to be called Mr. Simon, but I'll respect it if you have anything else in mind. Yet, that would be the last right you'll have for tonight other than your safe word."

She licked her lips. "I don't have anything else in mind."

"What?" He continued his venturing, raising his hand to cup her left breast.

"I don't have anything else in mind, Mr. Simon," she said in a sharp tone.

He didn't like that.

He pinched the rosebud atop her creamy mound, hard. The very mounds he pined to gaze at that night he leaned close to her at his business associate's party. They were in his hands now and he watched with rapt attention as he pulled at it and released, now puckered and a swollen pink. He repeated the motion with the other, but harsher, she gasped.

"Remember who's in charge here," he warned. "Roll over, ass in the air."

Megan

Her inside coiled in white, hot anger.

She didn't like this. At all. Being told what to do as if she was a toy and having been aroused by it. This was what she signed in for, she knew that sad fact. That time, she only wanted to test it but so far, she was liking it and she hated that she was wanting this.

She did as she was told. The anticipation building and building, the waiting making her succumbed into madness. She wanted him to just ram into her over and over and she wouldn't complain. She wanted her orgasm. So much. She whimpered.

"Keep your eyes on the headboard. Don't move." His tone took the harsher side again. She swallowed her displeasure, keeping her body still. "Pick a number from one to three." She dared to look over her shoulder to him, but he pulled her hair, forcing her eyes ahead. "Disobeying me again, will make you earn your punishment number three, and that's you not coming for the evening."