This time, he took control himself.
He reached between my thighs and captured my clit with his fingers. His movements were firm and rough and they hurt just as much as I enjoyed them. I keened in his arms. I didn’t know if I could take any more, but I knew I didn’t have much of a choice.
“Please. Come inside my bottom, sir. Please! I’m sorry,” I begged, and he gently kissed the side of my neck.
“Not yet, my pretty bride. Your punishment is not yet over,” he answered, and I whimpered with fear. I swallowed hard as he thrust into me brutally hard. I blinked several times, fighting back tears and then his hand started punishing my clit without mercy.
The pleasure and pain were at war inside me. My defenses were shot. There was nothing left inside of me to fight against that final orgasm, and it was on me before I was ready for it. My breath hitched in my throat as a harsh shudder burst over me.
This was going to hurt.
With his arms curled around me, there was nowhere to go and nowhere to run. There was nothing for me to do but take it. He fucked my bottom hole harder and faster and everything inside me broke at the same time.
I screamed.
I felt like I was falling into a terrible pool of endless pleasure and consuming agony. My core tore open from within, shaking and twisting and ripping through me with vicious force that took over every breath.
I suffered.
That final orgasm was as vicious as it was beautiful, a vacuum of deliciously cruel sensation that obliterated my every waking thought.
It was agony. It was wonderful. It was pure and utter devastation.
I sobbed as his seed spurted deep into my bottom, feeling my release climb higher and higher with every last searing lash of his cum. He groaned and I struggled to make it to the other side. My heart hammered wildly in my chest. Every muscle in my body tensed and my bottom hole clenched like a vise around his cock.
I cried through the rest of that orgasm, feeling the heat of my tears drip down my cheeks. In my haze of painful satisfaction, he gathered me in his arms and gently pulled free of me. He lay on the bed and pulled me against him. I curled against his chest, desperate to listen to the steady soothing cadence of his heartbeat. He gripped my chin and kissed my tears away.
“Good girl. Such a very good girl,” he murmu
red, and I clutched at him. I never wanted to let go.
“Sir,” I cried, and he held me even tighter.
“You’re mine, my sweet bride. Everything about you is mine. Your pain, your pleasure, your tears, your moans. Everything. Forever,” he said firmly.
“I’m yours,” I vowed, shivering in his arms.
For a while, the two of us just held each other. I’d needed this and so did he. My entire body throbbed from his cruel roughness, but the connection the two of us shared went far beyond the physical now. My heart was beating for him, and I could hear just how hard his was beating for me.
“Grayson?” I whispered.
“What is it, my sweet wife?”
“What happens now?” I asked hesitantly and I could feel him smile against my head. He kissed me softly, making my core flutter at his gentleness.
“Our life begins,” he replied. I closed my eyes and just felt.
Life as Grayson Asher’s wife would never be easy. Sometimes it would feel wonderfully good. Other times it would hurt. Most times would be a bit of both, but that’s what we both needed.
What we both wanted.
It wasn’t a life for everyone, but for the two of us, it would be perfect.
Epilogue
In the months that followed, I settled into my new life as a billionaire’s wife. Grayson moved me into his penthouse the day that we returned from our honeymoon on his yacht. I returned to work the day after that with my husband’s full backing at our disposal. The final development of my biosynthetic insulin compound surged into overdrive and the long road to federal approval began.
Grayson didn’t seek to control my career. If anything, he was my biggest supporter. If I needed advice, he would give it, but he never sought to force me to make any decisions when it came to my business.