Tia

There is so much about Banks I don’t understand, but the parts that I do, turn me on in a way that is entirely new. Being here, in his lab with him, gives me insight that I hadn’t had before.

He’s smart. Brilliant, really. I’ve never sat next to a man and analyzed research before today. It was exciting and stimulating and made me proud to be this man’s wife. Intelligence and dominance. Yes, those are two words that I would use to describe this husband.

But then I slipped off my pants and his hand brushed against my bare ass and I could hardly breathe. It wasn’t the injection that made me short of breath, it was picturing Banks looking at my bottom, imagining him running his hand between my thighs and feeling my desire.

He says he won’t make love to me. That he only fucks, and this is why he is so different than my other husbands.

Fallon wanted my devotion. Giles, a virgin, wanted my commitment. Salinger refused to sleep with me unless we shared something more than chemistry. Emerson and Huxley smile as we make love, showering me with sweet words and unabashed allegiance.

Banks though.

He doesn’t want my heart. He only wants my body.

And I don’t know what he wants to do with it.

I don’t think I care.

“You sure you want me? I’m not sure you can handle me,” he says, a dark glint in his eyes. It only flickered for a second, but I know I saw it.

I nod, licking my lips. My fingers ache to run over the erection in his slacks. “Yes, I want you, Banks.”

He frowns but even still, there is a hint of pleasure on his face. “You mean you want me, Sir,” he emphasizes the word ‘sir’ when he says it.

I lift my eyebrows, my nipples hard. My body hums to life at his request. “Yes, I want you, Sir.”

He nods, undoing his belt and removing it from his pants. Slowly he slides the leather from his belt loops and folds it in half, in his hands. I don’t know his plans for it, but I’m more than intrigued. My body is primed.

“Then what are you doing on your feet, wife?” he asks, taking a step closer.

A question rises to my lips, but he’s already lifted my ass from the floor and set me down on a cold, metal table.

“Oh!” My eyes widen in surprise.

His strong hands remain on my waist, and his fingers slide under the fabric of my pants and thong. Slowly he peels them down past my thighs, my knees, my ankles.

Then he lifts the hem of my sweater, pulling it over my head, the bright light of the lab room shining down on every imperfection, but Banks looks at me with nothing but absolute desire.

I cross my arms, hating the roll in my stomach when I sit here before him, but he shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine.

“I want to see all of you. No hiding.”

Twisting my lips, I see that he loves the build-up and I will do my part to please my husband.

I play the game he wants me to play. “In that case, Sir.” I try to hide my smile as I say it. “Can I please remove my bra?”

A flicker of a grin sends a thrill over my bare spine. “You’re a quick learner.”

“And I want to learn everything you have to teach me.” I spread my knees apart ever so slightly.

He groans, adjusting himself as I offer my pussy to him.

“Take it off, wife.”

I do as he says, reaching behind and undoing the hooks, tossing it aside. Sitting up straighter, I can’t deny the need I have to please him.

“Fuck, Tia,” he growls, looking at my breasts. I know he likes them. When we’ve been in the hot tub, I’ve noticed him looking at them longingly.

My fingers circle my breasts, my nipples hard as I pluck them.

“Do you like them, Sir?” I ask, teasing.

His clean jaw tenses. “I fucking love them.”

We’ve never kissed and I wonder if now we finally will. But instead of lowering his face to my lips, he presses his mouth to my breasts, kissing them, sucking them, licking them. I run my fingers through his cropped hair, my knees spreading wide, wanting his hardness to press against me.

“Good God, woman,” he groans as he unzips his pants. I help him push them down, greedy and wanting to touch his length. To feel him in my hand.

“You’re so hard,” I whisper as he runs his fingers over my skin. My hand moves to his cock, feeling the velvety smoothness in my palm and picturing him pressing himself deep inside of me.

“Kiss me,” he demands, and I willing do as he asks.

Our mouths crash together, his lips parting as our tongues collide. I inch to the edge of the table, wrapping my legs around his body, his thick cock pressed against my belly.

His hands pull at my hair as his soft lips press hard against mine. I close my eyes, whimpering as he pulls me back, my chin lifting, my eyes on his.

“You want me to fuck you?”

He’s making me say it. He’s making me beg and I like it. I like the fact that he’s making me ask for more. With bated breath, I answer, “Hard, Sir. Fuck me hard.”

And his eyes go wild with desire as he pulls me from the table, as he turns me around. For a moment he drops to his knees, burying his mouth against my ass, his fingers in my slick pussy. My hands on the cold metal table as he fingers me into submission.

“You like that, wife?”

“Yes, Sir,” I moan, loving it. Loving the intensity and the rush. Loving the way the word Sir spills from my lips. I want and need Banks to tell me what he wants, how he wants it, and where.

I gasp as he stands, inching his hard length into my swollen pussy. I’m slick with heat and he knows I’m ready.

Moaning, he thrusts his hard cock deep inside me and I cry out as he buries himself. So damn deep, I feel like I might explode from the sensation of it.

“Harder,” I beg. “Please.” I really don’t know if I can take it harder and deeper, but I want to see what Banks will do.

I have a feeling we’ve just tapped the surface of where he might lead me.

Right now, as his balls slap my pussy, and he holds onto my round breasts as he barrels against me, I will go anywhere he wants.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls in my ear as he pounds me. My pussy is so wet and he is incredibly big, so the friction of his fast, hard movements makes me lose all sense of reality.

I come hard, surprised by the intensity of the climax as it rolls over me. My cries reverberate off the barren walls and he clamps his hand against my mouth, shushing me. I bite down on his skin, wanting to taunt him. And he pulls out of my pussy, spinning me back around, lifting me to the table. He grabs my ankles, his hard cock so desperate to release.

He sinks himself into my pussy, the sudden movements causing my eyes to widen in delight. I grip the edge of the table, my back against the icy metal top, and he pounds into me until he comes harder than I’ve ever felt.

There is a knock on the door.

“Fuck,” he mutters, still coming inside of me.

Another knock, followed by Salinger’s voice, “Banks, could I have a word?”

“One second,” he says gruffly, as he finishes coming in my pussy. To me, he whispers. “Maybe I just knocked you up, wife.”

I’m catching my breath, shaky and spent. “If not, I guess we’ll have to try again.”

That gets a smile out of him and a rush of pleasure covers me. I don’t want this to end, but I know it must. Already my body knows that without him deep inside me, I won’t be complete.

He looks into my eyes, holding my ankles as if he owns them, looking down at me as if my body belongs only to him.

He was right. This is not making love.

This is fucking.

And I want more.