Forbidden - A Story of Love, BDSM and Infidelity Read Online Free

surrendered to his thrusts and
pinches and the twisted way he played with my lust.
    The way he played with my fear. Closing my
eyes, I reveled in the feeling of his thick cock pounding into
me.
    His hand closed around my neck, grasping the
collar, reminding me that he had put it around my neck, and that I
had let him.
    That I was his.
    I was close, so close, but he pulled out of
me, rose to his feet while I rested my cheek against the cool
floor, cursing him, thanking him for his cruelty of not giving me
satisfaction.
    Slowly, my heartbeat calmed, my breathing
too. I glanced up at him. His skin glowed, his cock rested hard
against his stomach, glistened from my juices.
    He hadn’t come inside me, and I had the
sudden fear that I hadn’t pleased him enough.
    “ I know what you need, know
what you fear too,” he said quietly.
    He reached down, brushed his hand against my
cheek, removed the leash from the choker. “I’ll push you to the
edge, but I’ll never let you fall. Do you understand?”
    I lowered my gaze. “Yes.”
    I couldn’t see his smile, but I heard it in
his voice. “That will do—for tonight.”
     
    * * * * *
    I walked into my home, sought out the
shower. Christopher wasn’t at home yet, was working late tonight as
I knew he would.
    I undressed, stepped into the shower. I let
ice-cold water come down on me until I shivered, my skin pebbling
with chills. I scrubbed my skin with a brush and soap.
    I felt I deserved this kind of punishment
for the pleasures I had just received from another man. Deserved to
be punished for it even more.
    I went to bed. After another hour of staring
into the dark, I heard my husband come home. And then after a
while, he slipped into bed with me. I let him draw me into his arms
while I pretended to be asleep, and drowned in the love and
affection we had for each other.
    I could never do it again.
    And yet, I knew that Tom knew that I
would be back.
    That I would go back to him for more.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter Seven
    Tom
     
    I am not a vanilla kind of guy.
    I like it rough, and I like women who like
to be tied up, spanked, brought down to their hands and knees,
dominated.
    Who find their pleasure in pleasing me.
    Women who do as I say.
    A woman like Jules, who hides her raw
sexuality behind modest clothing, shy smiles and a simple life.
    A woman unaware that with every step she
makes, every shake of her hips, men stare at her perfect ass, her
full mouth and her round shoulders.
    I dream about holding her by her hips, my
fingers digging into her flesh, hearing her cry out.
    Jules, who craves a hard touch, a cruel
smile, a dominant hand and sweet pain.
    Jules.
    I couldn’t get her out of my head.
    Ever since I had her that one night. That
night she submitted to me, despite her being ashamed and
humiliated.
    Despite her being married.
    She gave herself to me.
    And I would never betray a gift like
that.
    I would never complicate her life by
threatening her with romantic feelings, threatening her marriage
and security.
    But I want her again, want her again
kneeling in front of me, looking up at me, eyes dark with lust.
    Does she know how much I want her?
    It has been almost a month when I last saw
her, when I let a riding crop kiss her skin. I remember to vividly
the tight fit when I thrust inside her. Remember the unsure tone of
her voice, her downcast eyes.
    The way she came, the needy sounds she made,
the taste of her pussy.
    I needed her back in my control, needed her
like a junkie needing their fix.
    In my most violent fantasies, I make her my
whore and take her by force while she cries out my name.
    Since I was nineteen, I haven’t been this
hard for a woman.
    And what does she do?
    Nothing.
    It’s been a month .
    A month without a word from her. A month she
let pass by without showing up on my doorstep.
    But I know she wants me again, know that she
thinks about me as much as I think about her. How could she not? We
are each other’s match.
    We