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Taking It All(18)

By:Maya Banks

       
           



       

As though sensing his quiet perusal, her chin tilted up, her gaze   finding his. Their eyes locked, hers simmering with need and desire. He   was sure his were a perfect match to hers.

"You're beautiful," he said, so she'd hear.

Her eyes reflected her pleasure at his words.

"I'm glad you find me beautiful," she said in a low voice that hummed   deliciously over his ears, sending awareness deep into his body.

"Do you doubt your beauty to me?" he asked, though he knew it wasn't   well done of him to ask such a question. How could she believe he found   her beautiful still after five years of marriage when his actions had   pointed to just the opposite?

Would a man who still loved his wife and thought her to be the most gorgeous woman in the world treat her the way he had?

Yes.

He winced at his frank admission. But yes, he did still love his wife,   and yes, he thought she was the most beautiful woman on earth, and yes,   he'd treated her as though neither were true.

"No," she said without hesitation. "You've removed all the worry I had   that you no longer desired me or found me beautiful. When you look at me   like you're doing right now, I feel beautiful."

He crossed the distance between them and gently threaded his fingers   through her hair, stroking and allowing the strands to spill over his   hands like the finest silk.

"I'm very glad you feel beautiful, Chessy. Because you are. And in no   way should the way I look at you be the measure by which you consider   your beauty. You're beautiful inside and out. A more loving, giving   woman I've never known. And you're mine," he said with ultimate   satisfaction. "I'm never letting you go. Never doubt how beautiful you   are to me. To others. You shine, baby. When you walk into a room,   everyone stops to look at you. You're a joy to watch. Your kindness and   compassion glow from the depths of your soul. I don't deserve you. I   never have. But thank God you're mine anyway."

She angled her head, nuzzling her cheek into his palm as he gently   stroked the satiny-soft skin with his fingertips, simply enjoying the   way she reacted to his touch. So responsive. So honest. There was no   holding back for her. It was one of the many things he loved so much   about her.

She had no inhibitions. She didn't just live life. She attacked it. What   she enjoyed, she enjoyed wholeheartedly with zest and fervor that   attracted people to her. Others just flocked to Chessy, her personality a   magnet that held people in her thrall. It was one of the main reasons   he'd taken her to so many business functions in the beginning. Before  he  felt guilty for using her to further his career. It sounded worse  than  it was. The word used wasn't a pleasant one. But he'd benefitted  from  her ability to have people-especially men-eating out of her hand.  Not  that women weren't similarly drawn to Chessy's warmth and genuine   sweetness. But he wasn't an idiot. He knew his wife's effect on the   opposite sex. Just as he knew she'd never in a million years even   entertain the thought of straying. Not his girl.

She put people at ease. Made them feel as though they'd known her   forever. She exuded genuine warmth that couldn't be faked. There wasn't   an insincere bone in her body.

And she was his.

He bent at the waist so he could brush his lips over the top of her   head, inhaling the scent of her hair deeply into his nostrils. Desire   surged hotly through his veins, giving him a heady sensation. He felt   drunk, intoxicated by her essence. He was the most fortunate of men. He   accepted it, knew it for the truth it was. Most men in his position   never got a second chance at perfection. The opportunity to make amends   for many wrongs performed. He wouldn't waste a single moment. He'd grab   on with both hands and be on his knees, grateful and humbled by his   wife's forgiving nature.

"Tell me what you'd like tonight," he murmured next to her ear.

His mouth pressed against the shell of her ear and he nuzzled softly,   grazing his teeth lightly over the delicate skin and then sucking at the   tiny lobe.

She shivered and he grew harder, his erection straining at the pants he   still wore. It was a scenario they'd enacted before. He, the Dominant,   asking his submissive how to please her. Yes, he was in absolute   control, but in essence he was hers, his pleasure hers, his desire   whatever she desired.

"My hands  …  behind my back," she whispered, her eyes closing when he   traced the edge of her ear with his tongue. Her breath hitched and he   smiled as he drew away just enough to take in every facet of her   expression.                       
       
           



       

"Me on my hands and knees  …  you behind me," she continued in a shy, faltering voice.

He loved that even as uninhibited as she was in bed, she was still   adorably shy when expressing her fantasies. It was the perfect blend of   good girl meets bad and a glimpse of her inner vixen who came out to   play during intimacy.

"You taking me hard," she said breathlessly. "Not stopping even if I beg   you for mercy. Refusing when I say no. Your hand twisting in my hair,   pulling as you thrust into me. You demanding me to remain still and to   take whatever you give me."

His own eyes closed. He took long, measured breaths to still his racing   pulse. All the blood in his body pooled painfully in his groin, his  dick  so hard that it had reached the point of pain. He couldn't move  for the  material of his underwear abrading the sensitive head of his  penis.  Already there was a bead of moisture coating the tip. He was  imagining  being balls deep inside her, plunging and straining even  harder to go  deeper. Him holding her in place to meet his thrusts, his  hand, as she'd  whispered, tangled in her hair, forcing her to take  whatever he dished  out.

It was one of the many roles they played during sex. Their love life was   wide open and wonderfully diverse. If it could be imagined, they   enjoyed it. He knew how damn lucky he was to have such a wonderfully   responsive lover. Wife. Best friend. It was cliché but, in his case, so   very true.

"I like the way my girl thinks," he said in a husky, passion-laced voice.

"Think my man is up to giving his girl what she wants?" she asked with a teasing glint to her eyes.

He tipped her chin up with one fingertip and brushed his mouth over   hers. "I think I can manage. It's a hardship but I can swing the   sacrifice."

"Good," she whispered against his lips. Then she slid her hand up the   inside of his thigh to cup his bulging erection. "I'd hate for this   perfectly good hard-on to go to waste."





ELEVEN


CHESSY ran her fingers lightly over Tate's erection and then grew bolder   in her caresses. Her husband was very well endowed. Not enough to make   the logistics impossible but certainly enough for her to never  complain  in that department. Too much, and a girl had major appendage  issues. Too  little? And it was inevitable disappointment.

She liked her man just as he was and had no complaints about his prowess   in bed or in domination. She was positively giddy with anticipation   over Tate taking control back. Reasserting his dominance and his mastery   over her body. Nobody knew her better than Tate. Though she hadn't had   many lovers before meeting Tate, she'd had enough to know perfection   when she found it. At the time, being young and hopelessly naïve, she'd   lamented the fact that Tate hadn't been her first. She'd had this   ridiculous romantic notion of gifting him not only with her submission   but her virginity as well. Now she was glad he hadn't been her first   because there was no doubt in her mind that he was miles above any of   the other men she'd been with.

She was also secretly, and not so secretly, smug and delighted that Tate   had admitted he'd never had a woman-a submissive-who was so perfectly   suited for him. They were just meant to be, as corny as it sounded to   say it aloud. But nothing about her relationship and ensuing marriage   caused her any embarrassment. She was proud of who and what she was with   him. He'd never given her any reason to feel shame for her desires and   she loved him deeply for that. For always praising her boldness when  it  came to embracing her needs and desires.

"Baby, you're killing me," he groaned. "And I want to give you   everything you want tonight. It will be my honor-and privilege-to give   you whatever you need from me. My love. My control. Whatever makes you   feel safe and cherished."