“What, baby? Tell me.”
“I need more,” she begged as her lips pressed into his chest.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Liberty. You’re too small.”
She wanted to shriek. She wasn’t a child. Usually so very even keeled and levelheaded, an unfamiliar temper grabbed hold of her. Her feet flattened on the bed, spreading her knees beside his hips, and she tried to yank him into her, immediately regretting the action. Not because he hurt her. On the contrary, the additional inch of him she gained was splendid. It was the way his body tensed.
She surprised him by not listening and his disappointment in her unprecedented disobedience was like an intrusive presence between them. It was as if he depended on her consistent submissiveness as much as she depended on his control. It was wrong to suddenly try to change the dynamic they had cultivated for the last five years.
Her shame at disappointing him was a living thing that took hold of her and wouldn’t let go. Her body flagged as her guilt became too heavy. Her knees collapsed slowly into his thighs and passivity overcame her. Mason stilled.
He was breathing hard, a sheen of perspiration working over his toned shoulders and chest. He looked at her and she was too overcome with regret to meet his gaze.
“Liberty, look at me.” The command in his tone was something that couldn’t be ignored. Her eyes met his as a lump formed in her throat. He gazed down at her and frowned. “Stop. Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”
Her lashes fluttered, fighting back tears. She wanted to apologize for acting like a pushy brat, but if she uttered one word she would cry. If she cried while he was making love to her he would be repulsed and never want to touch her again. Her breathing trembled in her chest as she tried to hold it together.
He caught a glimpse of her struggle and quickly processed it. Something changed in his expression. There was a sharpness, some keen awareness in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
“Arms above your head,” he commanded. She did as he told her, not wanting to forget her place again. It was a quick lesson, how wrong it felt for her to attempt to be the aggressor. It spoiled any end rewards.
“I’m in charge,” he whispered with undeniable authority.
Her pussy clenched. She loved when he asserted his strength and power. Such a contrary desire to her once biggest fears. Trust and love had a way of transforming frightening characteristics into something altogether different. Every decision she made was controlled by her compulsions to remain in control, but when it came to Mason, he had the power to take away her control, demand her surrender in a way that quieted even her greatest demons.
He was a man, her man, and he was strong and kind, and fiercely protective of her just as she needed him to be. When he did or said things that displayed the control he held over himself and others it drove her wild. “I decide, Libby. That’s how it has to be. That’s how you need it, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“Trust me to know what you need, Liberty. Always trust me.” She nodded. “Good. Now open your legs for me.” Her thighs slowly opened. “That’s my girl.”
Mason braced his strong arms beside her shoulders and took one slow stroke deeper into her core. Liberty sighed in much needed relief. He was physically negotiating with her, but also keenly observing her, as if he knew her body and soul better than she knew herself.
She trusted that at the first sign of discomfort he would retreat. Liberty was determined not to show weakness. She was a woman in her own right. She may have quirks and needs that others would never understand, but she was no weakling. Not when it came to giving her man what he needed. Not when it came to surrendering her body to her husband.
He began to thrust slowly into her. It was a display of such self-control, such self-discipline. Liberty couldn’t help but admire him. It was a chore every minute of her life to keep herself balanced and in check. But not Mason. Mason was always in complete control of himself. Seeing him embrace his powerful husbandly rights was erotic and immeasurably intoxicating.
“I’m going to go deeper, Liberty, and you’re going to take it. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need to feel me in you?”
“Yes, Mason, please.”
“Then let me give you what you need.” He thrust inside of her and her head reflexively fell back into the bedding as a moan of fulfillment escaped from some deep hidden corner of her being.
“Is this what you need?” He forced himself deeper, stretching her sex and spreading her thighs with the breadth of his hips.
“Yes!”
His hips moved faster. His strokes were smooth, but he pressed harder as if he too was reaching to meet that inner part of her that cried for him. “Do you feel how your body clings to mine? How, no matter how tight, you instinctively accommodate me, your husband?”