Chapter 184: Delicious Torture
KATE
"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked in a threatening tone.
Dropping my head onto his shoulder, I kept moving my hips. He was already rock hard, and I was soaking wet.
"It was you who suggested the punishment," I whispered, rubbing my ass against his cock while still holding his hands.
"And what if I make you beg?" He whispered in my ear.
"That won't work this time; accept the punishment."
"I thought the games were over."
"It's not a game. It's a punishment, and you'll be forgiven when it's over."
"I know you're not angry; you're just being a bad bitch," he said, making me smile.
"Aren't you the one who's been talking about punishing me since we left New York?"
"And you're making the same mistake, for which you'll be punished."
"Then we'll be even."
"I assume this teasing is part of the punishment, but if you don't stop, it's going to drive me crazy."
"That's exactly the goal," I whispered, moving a little faster, feeling my clit pulsating with desire, longing to feel his cock inside me.
"Admit it, all this teasing… it's just because you want to be fucked hard."
I stopped moving and then got up.
"So… did you like it?" I asked, ignoring him. I spun around, facing my reflection in the mirror.
"Forget the punishment, and let me show you how much I liked it."
"Be strong; we're only just beginning, my love."
He sighed as I went back into the fitting room, closing the curtain after entering. My pulse was racing, and my nipples were hard; all I wanted was to feel him inside me.
God! It seemed like this punishment was going to be a challenge for me too.
*
NATHAN
Fuck... She opened the curtain again, and my cock throbbed at the sight. She was wearing black lingerie this time, consisting of a sheer nightgown with lace on the breast area and an opening in the front that allowed me to see the tiny, sheer panties.
The sight was utterly erotic and made me want to rip it off her and lick every part of her body before fucking her wildly.
She approached, stopping in front of me, but at a safe distance that didn't allow me to touch her. My eyes were drawn to the way she slowly slid her fingers over the lace on one of her breasts.
"Do you like it?" She asked, her gaze fixed on mine and a mischievous smile on her lips.
I swallowed hard, unable to look away. Then she turned around, offering me a view of her ass through the sheer fabric.
I think this was the most delicious form of torture.
"If you wanted to make me lose control, you're almost succeeding," I said, breathing heavily.
"Isn't that my job?" She smiled, biting her lip and looking at me over her shoulder.
Moving sensually, she straddled me again, on her knees. "Isn't that what you always say? That I made you lose control when we first met?"
"Yes... and unless you want me to fuck you hard on this couch, you'd better stay away."
"It looks like your self-control has a limit: me." She whispered with provocative green eyes. So beautiful.
"Stop teasing." I clenched my fists to avoid touching her. "Fuck... I'm so hard that I'm about to tear my pants."
"Sorry, love," she said with a mischievous smile. "You know..." She ran her hands over my chest. "I was thinking about the event tomorrow. I want to wear one of these under my dress. You can choose."
The event... Of course. She had planned everything. Twenty-four hours of torture. She was going to drive me crazy.
"I thought the purpose of the honeymoon was exactly the opposite of what you're doing."
"That's only for regular couples. And you know we've never been that," she said, brushing her breasts against me intentionally.
I closed my eyes, her scent messing with my head. I think I married a diabolical and utterly teasing woman. And fuck... so hot.
I took a deep breath, holding back from grabbing her and bending her over the couch.
"Shall we try the next one?" she said, getting up and returning to the fitting room.
I should go in there and show her who's really in control. Make her moan so loud that all the store employees would hear her.
But I agreed to this damn punishment, and she would make my life a living hell if I didn't do what she wanted. That's my wife. Beautiful and wicked.
So, I only had one option left. Escape. I got up, heading towards the exit of the room. I needed to fix the problem in my pants before someone noticed.
Taking off my blazer, I hung it on my arm and kept it in front of me to disguise what Kate had done to me. Then I looked for a restroom.
Minutes later, I found her on the first floor, finishing up the shopping. She smiled when she saw me. A smile that told me she was still plotting something.
"You disappeared," she said as I stopped by her side, and I noticed her eyes went straight to my pants, checking if I was still hard.
"Are you done?"
"I think so unless you want me to try on something else that you might like." She forced a smile, brushing her fingers against my back as if it were an innocent gesture. The touch sent shivers down my spine.
"Yeah. Let's go." I said, wishing I could punish her. I would do that very soon.
"Alright, she's finishing up."
Getting closer, she pretended to adjust the collar of my shirt, brushing her fingers against my neck and caressing my shoulders afterward.
"You ran away like a little boy," she whispered, challenge gleaming in her eyes.
"Mrs. Ryan?" The saleswoman behind the counter called her with a French accent, making her turn.
Then another employee came to deliver the bags, and I took them. This was the good thing about not being in the United States: we could shop like normal people, without security, without worrying about damn paparazzi.
When we got back to the hotel, we ordered room service for lunch. All that teasing in the store had left me irritated with her, so while my wife spent most of the afternoon on the balcony, reading a book, I tried to think of ways to level the playing field. I had a few ideas.
Turning off the TV, I got up from the bed and went to the balcony. Our suite was on the top floor, and the view was simply stunning, with Paris and its illustrious Eiffel Tower on the horizon.
She was lying on a lounge chair, focused on her book. I approached, leaning over her, resting my arms on the arms of the chair.
"Hi," she said, finally putting the book aside.
My eyes roamed over her body. She was wearing a white nightgown with straps so thin they would probably snap with a breeze. Her full breasts spilled out, and I could see her nipples perfectly.
At least now I had something to imagine during my shower.
"I'm going to take a shower; I'm just checking if you need anything," I said, as her eyes traveled over my bare arms, chest, and naked abdomen.
"I'm good, thank you," she replied.
I nodded.
"If you're interested, I'll leave the door open. You can watch the aftermath of what you did to me earlier."
Her lips parted in surprise, but she didn't say anything, seemingly lost for words. With a satisfied smile, I left her behind.
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