Chapter 13: City Lights Obscenity
The last whispers of the wedding day dissolved into the silent, rain-streaked panorama of the city far below their suite. Dan lay propped against a mountain of pillows, the blue glow of the muted television playing over his bare chest. The bathroom door opened, a spill of golden light framing her.
Ellie stood there, still wearing the delicate pearl-encrusted comb and wisp of veil in her dark curls. The white teddy was a mere suggestion, lace and sheer silk clinging to the generous curve of her hips, the dark shadow of her nipples, the triangle between her thighs visible through the fabric. The matching garters bit into the soft skin of her thighs, and her high heels made her legs seem impossibly long.
Dan’s breath caught, the remote forgotten in his hand. “Fuck,” he whispered, the word thick with awe.
A slow, bratty smile touched her lips as she sauntered forward, the click of her heels on the hardwood the only sound. “See something you like, Mr. Hayes?”
“Come here.” His voice had dropped, that calm, commanding tone that never failed to make her stomach clench with wet, immediate heat.
She stopped just out of reach, tilting her head. “Or what?”
In one fluid motion, he was off the bed. He didn’t grab her roughly; he closed the distance and cupped her face, his thumb tracing her lower lip. “Or I’ll take what’s mine.” He kissed her, deep and consuming, his hands sliding down to grip her ass through the flimsy silk, pulling her against the hard proof of his desire. “That ghost in the hallway doesn’t get a single second of this,” he growled against her mouth, tearing the teddy open at the shoulder with a sharp rip. The fabric gave way, baring her breast, and he took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard until she cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair. He backed her toward the bed, his mouth leaving a hot, wet trail down her stomach as he knelt before her, pushing her thighs apart with his shoulders. He hooked his fingers in the sides of her lace panties and tore them down, not bothering to remove them fully, just exposing her.
The first lick was a slow, deliberate stroke from her entrance to her clit, and her knees buckled. He held her up, his hands firm on her ass, and ate her with a focused, relentless hunger, his tongue fucking into her while his thumb circled that swollen, desperate bud. “Taste like heaven,” he murmured into her, the vibration making her sob. “My heaven.” He didn’t let up, not when she tugged his hair, not when she begged, driving her higher until she came with a shattered scream, her body convulsing against his mouth.
Before the last tremor subsided, he stood, lifting her and depositing her on the edge of the mattress. He shoved her thighs wide, his cock—thick and flushed—pressing bluntly against her soaked opening. “Look at me,” he commanded, and her green eyes, hazy with pleasure, locked onto his. He pushed inside with one deep, inexorable thrust, filling her utterly, the stretch a perfect, burning relief. “Mine,” he stated, the word a final seal over the day, over her past, over everything.
He held himself there, buried to the hilt, letting her feel every inch of his claim. Her inner muscles fluttered around him, a raw, involuntary pulse. "Say it," he urged, his voice rough.
"I'm yours," she gasped, the words ripped from her. "Only yours." It was the truth, a truth that burned away the last cold finger of the hallway’s shadow. He began to move then, a slow, devastating rhythm that punched the air from her lungs with every deep stroke. Each thrust was a promise, a possession, an answer to every lie Richard had ever whispered. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper, meeting him with a hunger that matched his own.
The world narrowed to the slap of skin, their ragged breaths, the slick, wet sound of him driving into her. He shifted angle, grinding against her clit with the base of his cock on every inward plunge, and a second, sharper climax tore through her without warning. She screamed, her back arching off the bed, her vision whiting out at the edges as she convulsed around him.
As the intense waves subsided into trembling aftershocks, a new energy surged through her. With a grunt of effort, she planted a heel against his hip and shoved. He was heavy, solid, but the surprise worked in her favor. He landed on his back with a soft whump, his cock, slick with her release, standing hard against his stomach.
She didn't give him a moment to react.
Ellie swung her leg over him, her veil brushing his chest, and took him into her mouth in one swift, deep motion. She swallowed him whole, her throat working around the head of his cock, the taste of her own arousal salty and musky on his skin. She lapped at him, sucking hard, cleaning every drop of her juices from his shaft with a fervent, messy dedication.
Her hand worked the base as her mouth slid up and down, her tongue tracing the thick vein underneath. She released him with a pop, her breath hot, and ducked lower to take one of his balls into her mouth, rolling the heavy weight on her tongue while she jacked his shaft with a firm, twisting stroke. "Fuck, Ellie," he choked out, his hands fisting in the sheets.
She could feel him tightening, the telltale pulse at the root. Just as he began to tense, his hips lifting off the bed, she released his balls and sat up, her hand flying on his cock with desperate speed. "Do it," she whispered, staring him down, her other hand cupping his balls gently. "Mark me."
With a ragged shout, he came. Thick, hot ropes of cum shot across her face, streaking her cheek, her chin, catching in her eyelashes and the lace of her veil. She kept stroking him, milking every last spurt until he was spent, shuddering beneath her.
Panting, he reached for her, pulling her down. He kissed her deeply, licking at his own seed on her lips. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice full of awe and dark heat. "You look so fucking sexy like this. My perfect, filthy wife."
He gently pushed her onto her back, his mouth leaving hers to trail down her neck, her sternum, not stopping until he was between her thighs again. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and buried his face in her cunt. He licked her slowly, thoroughly, as she trembled. "You taste like us," he growled into her wet flesh, his tongue circling her clit before plunging inside. "You taste like mine. So goddamn wet for me."
The sensation was overwhelming, his tongue and the rough scratch of his stubble and the sheer obscenity of it all after what she'd just done. She was over-sensitized, wrung out, but her body ignited again under his worshipful assault. "Please," she sobbed, her hands clutching at his hair, not to guide him but to hold on. "Dan, please, I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you. Now."
She was begging, and it was the most honest thing she’d ever done.
He pulled back from her, his lips glistening, his eyes black with a need that mirrored her own. Without a word, he stood, his body a silhouette against the city lights, and hauled her up from the bed. He turned her, his palm flat and hot between her shoulder blades, and walked her toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The storm had broken fully, rain sheeting down the glass in frantic rivers. The entire glittering grid of the city stretched out below them, blurred and abstract through the water. Her breath fogged the cool pane as he pressed her against it.
“Look,” he commanded, his voice a rough scrape in her ear. One hand fisted in her hair, gently tilting her head forward. The other gripped her hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “Look at all those lights. All those people down there, safe and dry.” He kicked her feet wider apart, the heels scraping on the floor. The head of his cock nudged against her from behind, slick and insistent. “And up here, you’re my wet, messy bride.”
He drove into her in one brutal, perfect thrust.
The cry that left her was torn between pleasure and shock, swallowed by the rumble of thunder. The glass was cold against her breasts and cheek, but his body was a furnace at her back, burning away everything but the feeling of being utterly filled, utterly claimed. He didn’t wait for her to adjust, setting a relentless, pounding rhythm that shook her whole frame against the window.
“Let them see,” he growled, his hips hammering into her. Each impact jolted a gasp from her lips. “Let the whole goddamn city see how good of a slut you are for me, baby.” His hand left her hip and smacked her ass, a sharp, stinging crack that made her clench around him. “My good little slutty wife.”
He fucked her with a ferocity he had never known, a physical exorcism of the ghost from the hallway, a celebration of the legal, binding truth they had made that afternoon. This was possession, but it was also gift; he was giving her the freedom to be this wanton, this desired, this completely unrestrained. It was the antithesis of every cold, controlled interaction she’d ever endured.
“God, I love you so fucking much,” he grunted into the sweat-damp skin of her neck, the words punctuated by his thrusts. “Say it. Tell me who you belong to.”
The world outside was a watery dream. Her mind was white noise, pure sensation. “You!” she cried out, her palms slapping against the glass for purchase. “Only you, Dan! Fuck, yes, only you!”
Her third climax ripped through her like lightning, a violent, convulsing wave that had her screaming into the storm, her inner muscles milking his cock in frantic pulses. He followed her over, his rhythm shattering into a final, deep plunge as he buried himself and came with a hoarse shout, his release flooding her, hot and claiming.
They slumped against the glass, both panting, steaming the window further. The storm raged. His weight was heavy, perfect. He nuzzled her neck, his breath gradually slowing. After a long moment, he carefully withdrew, turning her gently to face him.
Cum and rainwater traced paths down the inside of the glass behind her. He looked into her face, his eyes soft now, scanning hers. He thumbed away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.
“Okay?” he asked, the word simple, encompassing everything.
She nodded, her voice a wrecked, happy thing. “More than okay.” She leaned into him, her body buzzing, sore, and sated. “He’s really gone now. That feeling… it’s gone.”
Dan kissed her forehead, then her lips, a slow, tender promise. “Good.” He swept her into his arms, carrying her away from the window toward the rumpled bed. “Now, my wife needs to be cleaned up. And then she needs to sleep.”
As he carried her to the bathroom, the city’s lights blinked through the rain below, indifferent and beautiful. The last shadow had been fucked out of her, left as a smudge on the glass, washed away by the storm.