Page 91 of Babies for the Boss
“Don’t stop, dammit!”
He half smiles, then gives me more. “Still?—”
I take his face in both hands. “Husband, I have been using a toy on myself, thinking about this exact moment. You’re not going to break me.”
Something shifts beneath his surface. “You have been playing with yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Thinking of me?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.” I feel him swell, just before he hooks his hands around my shoulders and thrusts as deep as he can. It’s almost too much. “Like this?”
“Yes,” I squeak.
With that, he takes me for a ride, working himself back and forth until wet, hungry sounds fill the air. He growls, “I want to see it.”
“What?”
“The toy. You. Fucking yourself.” He slams deeper, and I’m on the brink. “I want to watch you make yourself come, thinking of me.”
“I’m close now?—”
He leans back, still inside of me, but now opening the space between us as he kneels. If he kneels too far back, he’ll pop out of me. “Do it. Touch yourself while I’m in you, pet.”
Without another thought, I reach for my clit. “Can I?—”
“Come for me. On me.”
It feels wrong in some way, doing it like this. Silly, I know. But touching myself has always been private. Until now.
As I work my clit, Pavel slowly moves back and forth, like he can’t just sit back and watch the show. He has to be a part of it. His cock rubs that good spot inside, and I’m right on the edge. “That’s it, pet. Look down here. See that? See how good you take it? I’m proud of you.”
Fuck, this is?—
“Now come for me.”
It tears through my core, bliss like a sword as I scream his name. He takes over from there, pinning my hands as he fucks me into the mattress, making me come again and again until there’s nothing left. Only then does he wrap his arms around me, only then does he kiss me while he pumps into me. I taste his primal sounds as he comes.
I lie in the dark afterward and listen to him breathe, the man who agreed to split the flourless chocolate torte at the restaurant tonight. Maybe it makes me a bad wife, I don’t know. But as I liethere next to the man who ate my brownies for months without complaint because he didn’t tell me he hates chocolate, I think about how far I will take this particular game.
How many times will I make him split a chocolate dessert just to see how long it takes him to crack? How many trays of brownies does it take to break the mighty pakhan?
I’ll never tell him that I overheard him talking to Igor about it once, months ago. That would let him off the hook too easily. I warned him to never keep secrets related to me, and with every brownie I serve to him, sweetly smiling and feigning excitement about his enjoyment of them, I know what it means.
There are secrets about me that he still keeps. The brownies are a little thing. If he can’t tell me the truth about that, what else is he hiding?
I will navigate it eventually. Possibly by making something else chocolate and watching him eat it with the same dedicated expression. His next birthday cake? The thought makes me smile in the dark.
“You’re thinking loudly,” Pavel says.
“I’m thinking quietly. You just have very good hearing.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Brownies.”
