Provoked (Forbidden Crush #2)

Chapter 23

23

“Oh, my God!” I squeal like a little kid when we enter the circular driveway in front of the chateau. It’s like something out of a fairy tale. Not the castle-y kind of chateau, but the type of adorable mansion a princess would escape to. There are flower boxes all across the front, dripping with pink and purple posies.

I jump out of the car and wait impatiently for Justin to emerge. He frowns at me indulgently, then pops the trunk. “Why don’t you see if you can find the key? It’s supposed to be under a flowerpot by the side entrance. At the time, I didn’t think that would be much of a challenge.”

I scamper down the length of the building and around to the side. No door there. I run back the other way. Justin is calmly placing shopping bags by the front door. This other side does have a small entrance. Nothing grand but charming all the same, with three little steps leading up and each is adorned with two pots of hot pink geraniums. I start tipping pots to look for the key. I finally find it when I realize they didn’t simply leave it to shine on the stone of the steps. It’s discreetly slipped into a matchbox that fits into a recess of one of pots.

Breathlessly, I scurry back to the front door. Justin is calmly perusing the landscape, his hands in his pockets. “Found it!” I announce with glee.

“Good. It would have been embarrassing to have to call for help with that.” He grins and takes the key from my hand. He unlocks the door and pushes it open before bending and picking up several bags in each hand. “Go on then, Ingrid. Go explore. Pick whichever bedroom you want us using tonight. You can always switch tomorrow until we’ve tried them all.”

I don’t wait, bouncing into the house with a happy sigh. I want to explore all of it but that would mean Justin standing there with the bags while I figure out where they should go. So instead, I head straight for the elegant staircase to explore the bedrooms. I’ll know the right one when I see it, I figure. Except they’re all beautiful. Each with its own adjoining bath. I settle on the smallest of the lot, but it’s the one with a peek-a-boo view of the sea in the distance, as well as the scent of jasmine wafting up from the gardens below. I poke my head out into the hall to shout to Justin, “This one!”

He patiently drops the bags onto the bed. “You won’t need most of these. You should plan on being naked for most of our stay here.”

I pout. “What about all the pretty lingerie?” I ask with a smirk, fully expecting him to give those an exemption.

But Justin shakes his head. “No, save those for when we get home. I might be too tempted to just rip them off of you now. And I do not want to have to spend another day replacing what we just bought.”

My skin goes warm. “Rip them off of me?” I hesitantly approach him, studying his face. “I didn’t realize you were holding back that kind of passion.” I’m skeptical, and Justin picks up on that immediately.

“Gentle words are not my strong suit, Ingrid. I’m good at winning arguments, not expressing emotions. For example, I never did say thank you for rescuing my public image,” he says huskily, his mouth a tantalizing inch from mine. I’m tempted to break the anticipation and just kiss him, but I want to hear what else he has to say.

“I did that for both of us and the rest of your family. It was slightly selfish,” I confess.

“Nonsense. It was sweet and generous, both qualities I’m completely lacking,” he argues, before dropping a swift kiss on my lips. “Now, put your bags away however you want and then take a bath. When you’re done, I’ll have dinner waiting for you on the balcony.” He nods towards the French doors leading out to a small terrace.

I stare after him when he leaves for at least ten seconds. Why do I feel like I’m about to know Justin on an entirely different level? Yes, I know he plans to fuck me tonight. I’m not oblivious to that, but this feels like something more, something deeper. Turning back to the task at hand, I sort through the bags until I find a couple of casual outfits and a handful of everyday underwear. Every day by French standards is not plain white cotton! I set those in a drawer and stuff the rest of the bags into the bottom of the carved wardrobe.

I may need to acquire a new suitcase before we head home, but that’s a problem for another day. The attached bathroom has forest green walls and white porcelain throughout. It’s beyond elegant in its very simplicity. While the bathtub fills, I sniff each of the pots of bath salts arranged on a small shelf before tossing in a handful of jasmine scented crystals. Sinking into the water, I sigh with satisfaction and lean my head back. My body is relaxed, but it’s also anticipating Justin. My breasts feel full and heavy while my pussy aches gently. It feels like a year since he first kissed me properly, but I know it’s only been a few months. Leisurely, I trail a washcloth over my curves, more for the sensation of touch than cleanliness. I showered this morning after all, but it has been a long and busy day.

The sun is just beginning to set when I finally emerge from the bathroom wrapped in a silk robe almost the same green as the walls. Noise draws me out to the balcony where I find Justin and just one armchair he must have dragged in from one of the bedrooms next to the small metal table.

My brow furrows. “What…?”

Justin touches my lips with his index finger. “Just one second, baby.” He aims a champagne bottle over the balcony and pops the cork.

Ingrid looks downright dewy from her bath. Her solemn brown eyes regard me with a puzzled air. But I’m nothing if not good with a plan of persuasion. I pour us each a glass of champagne, then sit down in the armchair. A gentle tug on her hand and she takes a hesitant seat on my thighs. I hand her a glass.

“Anything you want to tell me before we commence with the evening’s activities, Ingrid?”

“Like what?” Her brow furrows more deeply.

I shrug. “Like maybe your feelings have changed and you’re no longer in love with me? Or you’ve developed an allergy to chocolate?”

Her brow clears. “No, silly. What are the activities?”

I shake my head sternly at her. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just follow orders and you’ll be fine. ”

She takes a sip of champagne before bursting into giggles. “Orders?”

I nod again. “Starting with, I want you to unbutton my shirt.”

She sets her glass down on the table. “Or what?”

“Or you don’t get dinner,” I growl into her throat.

“Okay, fine,” she grouses playfully and begins to slip the buttons from their holes. I watch her slim fingers at work in silence, my cock already responding. When she’s done, she raises an inquiring eyebrow at me.

“Now I want you to keep both hands on my skin while I feed you. If you take one or both off, I’ll stop until you fix the problem.”

She rolls her eyes but dutifully places both palms flat on my bare chest. I feed her a bite of the homemade broccoli quiche I found in the fully stocked refrigerator. Ingrid’s eyes widen with delight. After the second bite, her fingers begin swiping over my skin unconsciously. I switch to the potato salad, then a bite of baked chicken. By which time, her hands have moved down to my waist.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks quizzically.

“Later,” I tell her hoarsely. “Tonight is all about you.”

She takes one hand away and I frown but find a piece of quiche wedged against my lips. “ I want you to eat so you don’t end up back in the hospital,” she informs me sternly. I let her feed me a few bites. My plan is not going the way I intended. When do they ever where Ingrid is concerned? I acknowledge to myself. I tug my shirt all the way off. Ingrid’s index finger traces the scars still pink from the accident.

“Hands, Ingrid. I need your hands on me, sweetheart.”

She complies, sliding them up and over my shoulders. I pull her tighter against my chest before feeding her a few more bites of quiche and then a few wild strawberries. I trail another one down her neck and into the V of her bathrobe before popping it into my mouth. Ingrid’s eyes widen until I kiss her and her lids slowly descend. The next berry goes under her robe and between her smooth thighs. She pulls back, startled. “Justin! What are you doing?”

I nip her chin before growling, “Seducing my wife.”

She relaxes into a grin. “Oh. Carry on then.”

“Thank you, I will,” I promise solemnly before popping the berry warmed by her skin into my mouth with satisfaction. I follow the same path with my hand, this time moving closer to her pussy, teasing her with barely there touches that come close to her more sensitive flesh but not quite. She fidgets on my lap, her hands clenching down on my shoulders.

“Drink your champagne, baby. I’m going to be busy here for a while.”

She snorts, but does pick up the glass for a few sips. “What am I supposed to be doing while you’re ‘busy’?”

“Trying not to cum. If you can do that for me, I’ll let you cum on my cock the first time. But if you can’t…” I hold the threat back, letting it hang in the air for a moment. “If you can’t hold it back, then I’m going to make you cum three times before you know what it means to be stuffed full of my cock. Understand?”

My hand moves closer to her clit, cupping her mound without directly contacting her enticing little bud. Ingrid moans.

“How am I supposed to stop it?” she finally mutters, her thighs reflexively clenching my hand.

I shrug. “Think about something else. Or maybe that spanking I should have given you for risking your sweet self by going on national TV.” The truth is, I don’t expect her to comply. I want her to cum a few times before I claim her completely, so her body is relaxed and ready for me. But it’s more fun to tease her with innocent threats.

Ingrid groans and utters a small yelp as her body jerks against my hand and then spasms into orgasm. Wetness coats my fingers, allowing them to slide more easily over her folds.

“Such a bad girl, Ingrid,” I tease her. “You couldn’t even last a minute? What was it? Did you picture the spanking like I told you?”

She nods frantically, her cheeks red while her fingers pluck at my chest. I grin over her head.

“Well, now you have to cum again for me. But since you have no self control, I’ll have to make this last a little longer.” So not my intention, but I keep up the charade by turning her so her back is to my chest and spreading both legs over my thighs. It leaves her fully exposed to the night and unable to clench her thighs. I poise one knuckle over her opening just enough to give her a hint of presence but not enough to penetrate and then I torture her sweet, swollen clit.

Ingrid arches her back, her breath coming in short gasps. Over and over I rub in circles and then back and forth, always slightly erratic in pace. When I can feel her getting close, I back off slightly before resuming all over again.

“Justin!” Ingrid finally screeches in frustration.

“Hmmm?” I query softly in response.

“Let me cum, please!” she pants.

I consider that thoughtfully. “Tell you what, I’ll let you cum if you say my name a little more loudly.”

“Justin!” she screams.

I think that was frustration more than compliance, but I give it to her, anyway. Unbending my crooked finger and sliding it into her. A second and third finger join the first and I stroke upward, finding her g spot. She flies apart with a cry that has my cock hardening painfully between her thighs.

“Told you you’d be screaming my name,” I tell her with satisfaction as I stand and carry her into the bedroom.

She mutters something unintelligible, but probably not flattering, as I lay her down before stripping out of my clothes .

“You are so damn annoying when you’re smug,” she informs me while I unwrap her like a present from that silky robe.

“Just you wait, baby. It’s only going to get worse from here.”

Justin is… My brain can’t come up with words. I think it switched off twenty minutes ago and now I’m simply along for the ride. I keep my eyes focused on him, not for any particular reason except that looking at him makes me happy.

When he joins me on the bed, he spends five minutes on one kiss, I swear. It’s slow and deep and confident. Like he has me just where he wants me and is no longer in any kind of hurry. I whimper at what that means.

Justin pulls back with a small smile. “You okay there, Ingrid?”

I nod. “Except for the torture part.” I pout, I can’t help myself.

His green eyes twinkle. “Maybe you’d better show me what hurts, then.”

“All of me is just one big ache, and it’s all your fault,” I accuse him.

“Then let’s fix that, shall we?” he murmurs, not panicked at all. He doesn’t wait for a reply, guiding my knees up and out. And then finally I feel his cock where it’s supposed to be, nudging at my entrance. I give a sigh of satisfaction that turns into a whoosh of air as he pushes in slowly.

And he doesn’t stop, instead maintaining that slow steady pressure until I am in fact stuffed full. Only then does Justin cease moving to drop small kisses on my face. “There’s my good girl. So wet and tight, Ingrid. Relax, baby. I’m going to mold your pussy to exactly fit my cock, so every time is sweet and easy. You ready?”

I stare at him. Ready for what? There can’t be more of him, surely?

“I’ll go as slow as I can, sweetness. You tell me when you’re ready for more.”

And then I find out what he meant when he asked if I was ready. He pulls out slowly, leaving me wanting again, and then slides back in a little quicker this time. I clench him to me. Justin groans and I find I like the sound of that. We repeat this little dance four or five times, the energy ramping with each iteration until Justin reaches down and tugs on my clit. It’s different now that I’m being stretched wide. Every part of me responds differently. My clit being no exception. It demands more. I twist my head on the pillow frantically. He pinches down, then lets go and I explode, wrapping myself around him while my pussy spasms. I’m not in control of the muscles trying to strangle his cock, to milk him dry.

Justin grunts and somehow pulls back a few inches before his back stiffens and he’s pumping into me with a force that tells me how gentle he was being earlier. He cums deep inside me and then collapses down on top of me.

I wrap all my arms and legs around him and cradle him there. He’s mine and now I know how much he needs me, needs this — a safe place to land, to be himself without strategizing.

It’s only a minute and the in-charge Justin is back, pulling out of me despite my protests. He gives me one of those stern warning looks before rolling to his side. I snuggle into his chest, not ready to lose contact.

Justin leans down to kiss my forehead. “Love you, Ingrid.”

It’s so soft a person could be forgiven for not hearing it. “I know,” I state smugly, wrapping my arm around his waist. “Now what? ”

He raises an astonished eyebrow. “That wasn’t satisfying enough for you?”

I laugh. “No, no. I’m quite wrung out, but I’m not sleepy yet.”

“Why don’t we take a walk in the gardens, then?”

Despite Justin’s protests, I insist on putting some clothes on, but I concede on the underwear. Although how he could possibly find more to tease me with tonight, I’ll never know. The outside air is sweet with jasmine and gardenias. There are a few stars out but otherwise it’s still and quiet. We meander down the paved paths, gently lit by soft garden lights. Every so often, Justin pulls me to a stop for a light kiss. I don’t even notice his hand wandering under my skirt to cup my ass. I suppose that’s the downside to being married to a brilliant mind. Because he finds opportunities to wind me up enough for two more orgasms before we come back inside. Despite my pouting he tells me calmly, “If you can walk without wincing tomorrow you can have my cock again then, until that time, however, you have plenty of other options.” Since his tongue was busy demonstrating one of those options, I stayed quiet, seizing the opportunity to run my fingers through his dark hair.