The Substitute Wife Read online

  He snorted, a puff of hot hair blowing against her exposed parts as he sought and captured a hand on either side of her, lacing his fingers with hers to render them as useless as the rest of her against his sensual intent. "I have to taste you, Andi. And you're going to lie there quietly and let me, because you're already lying on a sore bottom, and I don't think you want it to get any more so any time soon."

  The way her breath caught so naturally, so loudly—and what that revealed to him about how aroused she was at what he said—had him unable to stop his hips from grinding his already fully engorged self against the sheets.

  He'd awakened that way, full and stiff and hard, practically already inside her from the way her still quite warm and red little bottom was offering itself up to him, snuggling his erection within her cleft. Her body was already weeping, however unconsciously, onto his shaft as if to show it the way.

  But that wasn't what he really wanted to do to her, so he decided to indulge himself a bit this morning. He kept any negative, guilty thoughts at

  bay by tantalizing himself trying to decide what she'd taste like in his mouth.

  Would she be earthy and sultry? Lighter and wetter? He'd never met a woman's body that he didn't adore doing this to and, once he had pushed Andi past any inhibitions she might have, if necessary, he had a feeling she was the type to enjoy it, too,

  At least he was going to do his best to see to it that she did, anyway.

  After draping their entwined fingers over the backs of the thighs his arms held up and wide apart, which forced her even further open to him as she whimpered but didn't voice much more of a protest, he held her eyes as his mouth surrounded her for the first time.

  There were no words for how it felt to Andi to have Rory's lips seal themselves over her, the tip of his tongue exploring every bit of her before seeking and finding that most tender spot and lapping lazily at it, suckling gently, even letting her feel just the slightest edges of his teeth occasionally.

  His enjoyment at what he was doing was evident in his enthusiasm and the wet, suckling sounds he was making as he excruciatingly slowly worshipped her with his mouth.

  She was going to die before he stopped, she knew it.

  She tugged at her useless hands and he clamped down on them, rocking her even further back, exposing her even more thoroughly to his detailed exploration of her. He left no part of her untouched, even swirling his tongue around her bottom hole, which was the only thing he did to her that he thought she might really not like. Although he cataloged her objection and didn't do that again this time, he knew that with enough time, that was something he could also probably get her to into enjoying.

  But for now, all he wanted to hear were her sighs and moans and her begging him so sweetly to let her cum, her voice quite a bit higher than he was used to.

  He had always prided himself on his ability to read a woman's reactions to his loving, and he'd gotten quite expert with his wife, forcing her to glide along the very edge of her excitement. He loved to force her to ride the crest of that wave for quite some time before he pushed her over it.

  And he resurrected all of his rusty skills to do that for Andi as best he could, too, bringing her almost there then backing off, flicking that tiny, exposed nub relentlessly for long moments. His hearing and the entire rest of body was keenly attuned to the sounds of her imminent pleasure, forcing her to back away from it again and again.

  That was when she began to realize that a man's beard could be used as a sensual weapon. He dragged it over those delicate tissues again and again, rasping roughly through her garden without care to what he marauded, joyously wetting his beard in her juices as he pressed his tongue deep inside her.

  Or, when he was trying to back her down, rubbing it over the insides of her thighs, the prickling sensations driving her out of her mind as her bits throbbed for more direct stimulation which he pointedly refused to allow her.

  "Oh, please, Rory, please!" she whimpered, not caring in the least how desperate it made her sound. She was desperate!

  "Shall I let you cum, Andi? Have you had enough?"

  "Yes, Jesus H., yes, please, I have!"

  To her surprise, he let one of her hands go, freeing his strong right one. Not that it was going to do her one bit of good and seconds later she felt his fingertips replacing his eager mouth at that sopping wet opening.

  "One finger?"

  It slipped up inside her easily, although she sounded as if he was tearing her asunder with it, trying to ride it, but even with one hand free, she was still held immobile and obscenely open by his powerful presence between her thighs.

  "Two?" he tempted, not bothering to cross them, but slamming them up inside her to his last knuckles, till he could go no further within her, pulsing them there, against her, curling them, hitting all of the right spots within her, teasing her terribly with her pleasure then removing them.

  "How about I make you cum on all three?" he asked softly, on a threatening whisper, and she stilled as she felt him present all three of those big, stiff digits to her, then begin to push them relentlessly into her.

  At the same time, he leaned forward, and as he was stretching her to what was very close to her limit, he set his tongue and lips loose on that over swollen button of hers, swirling and lapping and rubbing it just as relentlessly, until he felt every bit of her stiffen around and beneath him. Just as she began to contract strongly around them, he began to fuck her, hard, never stopping, never slowing, and never allowing her to come down even the slightest bit from that heady peak he held her at. He forced her to rise to his ministrations over and over, eking every last bit of ecstasy he could from her before he let her collapse back onto the bed, looking almost stricken with the pleasure he had brought her.

  And then he moved up beside her, arranging them on their sides, with her injured top leg up and back and over his, out of the way, as he reached down to splay a hand between those slim hips of hers so that she couldn't get away even if she had a mind to, and jutted his hips forward, impaling her with the full length on him in one tremendous stroke.

  Rory had to pause then, or it was going to end entirely too quickly.

  Dipping his head to her shoulder, nipping gently there as she roused slowly from her stupor, then kissing his way up her neck to find that sweet spot just below her ear to growl, "I want to have you for every meal from now on.

  That was magnificent. I was hard when I woke up, but I practically came with you when you did." His free hand swept possessively down over her, dwelling at her nipples, tweaking and tugging them, effortlessly reviving the ache she would have sworn that he had retired for years just moments ago.

  "Such a tiny body for such a wonderfully fierce response. I could watch you do that forever. I love how you come undone in my arms," he whispered urgently as he surged against her.

  She was completely and utterly exhausted from what he'd already done! She shouldn't be able to do this. Shouldn't be so hot again already.

  Should she?

  But she was.

  Everything he was, everything he did, everything he said to her, the man knew her body better than she did, and he knew what to do to it to bring a response from it no matter what kind of condition she was in.

  And she was going to let him. That had long since been decided. This was certainly going to be no more than a moment out of time, but she was going to indulge herself in every ever loving second of it.

  Since he seemed to have been thinking the same thing, she'd—they'd

  —deal with the inevitable, horrible consequences of their actions later.

  Spring sounded like a good time. Perhaps they could stay here, in this sensual haze he conjured around her, till then.

  After thoroughly exploring her most intimate bits, his free hand returned slowly back up her body. It moved in rhythm with his, claiming each breast again, pinching her impudent nipples till she moaned in protest. Not that that stopped him. He left them aching and throbbing, but in
a different way from how they had been, to travel up to her neck, gently encasing her throat in his palm, his fingers nearly able to wrap entirely around it.

  Andi went stock still at that movement, and Rory paused, although it

  killed him to do so, trying to discern whether doing so had turned her off or on.

  Experimentally, he closed his fingers a bit more tightly although nowhere near enough to restrict her breathing or blood flow, but just enough that his hand's presence there would be less of a neutral presence and more of an aggressive, controlling one.

  And then he pounded himself into her—just once—tearing a cry from deep within her throat.

  "Reach up and grab a hold of one of the rungs of the headboard, honey, and don't let go or I'll take my belt to you after I finish fucking you."

  Andi did what she was told as soon as possible however reluctant she might have felt about it. She'd heard tell about his belts, and her bottom was already in a sorry enough state after last night that she was quite eager to avoid him touching it in any way—much less with one of his three inch wide, stiff swathes of totally unforgiving leather.

  "That's a good girl." With an educated guess that she was as aurally stimulated as Liz had been, Rory continued to talk to her as he began to pump himself roughly in and out of her. "Don't let go now. I should have used my belt on you last night but I couldn't bring myself to since it was really the first time I spanked you. But I won't hesitate in the future, if you're naughty, Andi.

  Are you going to be good for me, little girl?" he rambled huskily into her ear.

  Andi could barely remember her own name. Her entire life, certainly her entire physical presence and ninety nine percent of her mental one, too, was concentrated where his cock met her pussy, where he forced himself into her and she found herself stretching around his huge presence each time, feeling herself submitting to him more fully with each tremendous thrust.

  But she knew he expected her to answer him, so she barely breathed,

  "Yes, Rory."

  "Ve… very good." He meant it as a compliment, but it came out of him so raw, so gutturally that it didn't sound that way. "Cum, baby. Cum for me. I'm going to keep you so perpetually hot you won't remember what it's like not to be right on the edge…"

  Her body obeyed him much more naturally than the rest of her. She began to contract helplessly around him almost as soon as he had commanded it of her, although the build up to her climax seemed to never end as he continued to piston himself into her immobilized body. His anguished scream echoed against the walls of the cabin as he finally released

  himself within her, keeping her captive against him till the very last thrust of his hips.

  Without his hands holding her up, Andy simply collapsed forward onto the mattress, not caring what kind of unkempt slump she was in. She was just trying to suck enough oxygen into her starved body to remain alive from second to second. She was entirely incapable of even the slightest higher functions for a very, very long time.

  But from the sounds of him behind her, he was in much the same situation, gulping big breaths full of air into his lungs and bellowing them out over her.

  He recovered first, apparently, because, just when she had begun to show goose flesh and feel a bit cold, he reached down to pull the covers which had become dislodged during their frenzied coupling, back over them.

  He reached out to tug her back into his big spoon and enveloped her with his warmth. His hands grasped her slim forearms, holding them crossed close to her body, over her breasts.

  Holding her captive, still, even though he'd had his way with her already.

  She knew it shouldn't have, somehow, but it made her melt even more for him than she already had.

  When they had both recovered more, he nibbled on her ear and said,

  "I don't know about you, but I'm famished. What do you say I rustle us up some breakfast? I'm not really sure what we have since Liz was in charge of provisions, but I'm sure I can find something."

  Feeling surprisingly shy around him in the daylight for some reason, Andi said quietly, "I know what we can have."

  In the act of leaving her under the piles of blankets and comforters, he stopped and turned back, gathering her to him again. "And what might that be, pray tell?"

  She shrugged. "If you can find where I left my backpack when you brought me in here, it has a cache of non-perishable food. I have granola bars, beef jerky, some of those cheese and peanut butter crackers, some—"

  She didn't need to go any further. He'd already darted out from under the relative comfort of the covers to scour the cabin hurriedly for her backpack because by now it was cold even for him.

  "What color is it?"

  "Red, so it could be seen easily in the snow if need be."

  "Smart thinking."

  He spotted it near the door and brought it back to the bed, draping the blankets over them again as he handed it to her, feeling as if it was Christmas morning. They certainly could eat cold beans out of a can, if they had to, but what she'd mentioned was a damned sight more appealing.

  They feasted on just that—small, individual bags of Teddy Grahams, some cheap but filling beef jerky, crackers, and trail mix. He wisely rationed all of it, just in case, and they washed it down with some vitamin water she'd put in the backpack as well. She hadn't worried whether it would freeze in an emergency, figuring she could thaw it under her arm or between her legs if she had to.

  Sated in all the important ways, they ended up back under the covers.

  He'd rescued his cell and brought it to bed with them, but even as he'd slid the lock on it, he knew there wouldn't be any bars and that any response to the text he'd sent to the guy who plowed for him up here wouldn't get through anyway. If they were out of power, the one and only cell tower for miles around would be useless, as well.

  Chapter VIII

  The day passed slowly, if pleasantly, over all.

  She wanted to occupy herself playing on her phone, but he disallowed that, pointing out that they needed to conserve their batteries, so he turned each of them off and put them in the nightstand on his side of the bed.

  He was pleasantly surprised at how well prepared she was. He suggested that they gather all of their foodstuffs in one place, and did a quick inventory of what he could see they had without opening the fridge—which was a ton of stuff that they'd eat only if they became desperate. He weeded out anything that could be consumed easily and more pleasantly and brought it to live near the bed, where they were going to spend their time, along with some water, after leaving a couple gallons in the bathroom to help flush the toilet.

  Then he rummaged through the rest of her backpack and found a good sized knife as well as a Leatherman, a Swiss Army knife, and waterproof matches. A couple of survival blankets went right onto the bed, even though they crinkled noisily and made him feel somewhat like a baked potato. She had a hand crank for her cell phone's battery as well as a spare battery that was powerful enough to charge both hers and his at least once. Toothpaste and a small toothbrush, wet naps, a wad of neatly folded dry paper towel in a zip top bag, a comb, a small, old fashioned, oval headed wooden hairbrush, notebook and a pencil were also revealed.

  "Wow, you're very well prepared. Good for you!"

  He had much the same things somewhere around the cabin as well as in his truck, but since this stuff was all gathered neatly here, he figured they'd use it and he'd replace whatever they used for her as soon as they got back to civilization.

  After breakfast, once he'd gotten them a bit better organized, he encouraged her—through the judicious use of his fingers between her legs—

  to take a nap and conserve her energy. He thoroughly enjoyed the fact that, by the time he was through with her, she literally came in his arms and fell asleep in them at practically the same second.

  He did the same thing, just as sated as she was but in a different way

  —through her—as he didn't have quite the same capacity.


  When they awoke later, they ate a bit more and he checked his cell

  again, but no dice. He was glad to see that both phones were holding their charges better than he had expected.

  He had gone to sleep rock hard from having brought her off, but had not sought release for himself because he knew he'd exhausted her which had been his intent. Although he could have gone after her again, he didn't want to wear her out or make her sore.

  But she'd already made her way through all of the years old magazines that Liz had left here when she sighed and complained, "I'm bored."

  Rory gave her a considering glance. "What kind of card games do you play?"

  That perked her up.

  Soon they were having a rousing game of Crazy Eights, working their way through all of the games they knew—Gin, Rummy, even Go Fish—

  because apparently they knew a limited amount of card games that didn't involve a board, like Cribbage, or more players, like Thirty-one or Hearts.

  "We could play poker," she suggested, sitting up. Normally she hated to have the covers over her face, but it was easier now because he was so much taller than she was and she felt less claustrophobic than she usually would.

  He raised his eyebrow at her. They had played poker together before multiple times. He and Liz often hosted a poker evening for their friends at their place. It was just for fun, of course, everyone shared the same money, really, but it was always a hoot, because the more they played, the more they drank and the sillier they all got. Everyone always gathered around the breakfast table the next morning complaining of sore stomach muscles from having laughed so much.

  Disappearing without another word, he returned after only a few moments with more goodies in hand. He had more ibuprofen for her ankle and the weather band radio he'd turned up in the back of the closet. He turned on the radio just long enough to find out what they already knew. The blizzard was still blowing, a state of emergency had been declared, and no one was supposed to go anywhere. He promptly turned it off after that, because it was just going to repeat itself, anyway.