Cum dripped out of my pussy and down my leg, and I groaned as he slid the anal plug from my ass. Then he undid the bonds holding my arms, his touch almost tender, and I let the sleeves fall from my arms. Cool air hit my skin and I breathed a sigh of relief as, at last, I let myself slide down and sit on the floor of the limo. The vibrations coming up from the road were almost too much for my hypersensitive flesh, but I found that if I rolled to one side, letting my hip rest on the floor, I could endure it without too much danger of coming again, though the corset bit into my waist and made it even harder to breathe.
My body was exhausted. My brain was numb. Distantly I wondered how I was going to get out of the limo, considering my state of dishabille and the fact that I didn't think I had any other clothes with me. Maybe someone had kindly picked up the clothes I'd left folded in the dressing room? Sure. Why not? I'd go with that and hope it was true because though the thought of stepping out of Anton Waters' limo in a ripped wedding dress was arousing, I'd almost had enough arousal for one day.
Without warning, the pressure around my ribcage eased, and I looked back, startled, to see Anton kneeling behind me, undoing the corset.
Oxygen rushed into my lungs, and it was such a relief I wanted to cry.
Strong arms snaked around me and lifted me, placing me gently on the seat. I could barely stay awake, let alone haughtily tell him I was a big girl and could get up all by myself, thank you. My body was no longer under my control. My limbs were noodles and I could only passively observe what was happening to me, as though I had been drugged. Perhaps I had. By sex. Maybe Anton had a cock that squirted heroin. A magical cock.
I was feeling a bit delirious by now, so I barely registered when Anton sat down next to me, and then pulled me against him in a comforting embrace. Reaching up, he began to run his fingers through my hair, and I shivered. My skin was bare, my pussy was leaking his cum all over the seat and the dress still hanging around my waist was in tatters. I suddenly felt cold and snuggled into him. His fingers paused in their slow stroking, then started again. He rubbed his other hand over my arms, and then gently placed me back on the seat. I protested feebly at his withdrawal.
"Don't worry," he said, and his shaking voice was like sandpaper over raw nerves. It made me squirm, and it wasn't all pleasant. He must have seen how I was feeling because he didn't say anything more, simply reached behind him and opened the door I had heard him open while we fucked. The sound triggered a strange sensation in me and I inhaled sharply, not knowing what to do with this new information. Swallowing, I tried to focus on him.
Piercing green eyes studied me, gauging my reactions. I saw there was a hidden panel behind the limo's front seat where he had stored all his toys.
Reaching in, he pulled out a blanket and what appeared to be a candy bar. I didn't even want to know what horrible orifices he was thinking of putting that candy bar in.
As it turned out, he was only concerned with putting it into my mouth.
After swaddling me in the blanket—a luxurious, warm, fuzzy thing that almost swallowed me whole—he unwrapped the candy bar and broke off a piece.
Gently he coaxed my mouth open and placed the piece on my tongue with trembling fingers, like a sinful sacrament. Then he closed my jaw and resumed his seat beside me, his arms falling around me and pulling me close. He planted a soft kiss on my hair.
We stayed like that for a while: Anton feeding me chocolate and occasionally kissing the top of my head, and me floating in a strange, indefinable state that I'd never felt before.
Finally, the limo slowed, then jerked to a stop, and I roused myself enough to look out the window. We were in an underground parking garage. There was no natural light, and that was fine with me. I didn't want anyone to see what I must look like.
"How are you feeling, Felicia?"
His warm voice startled me, but this time it didn't hurt. For a moment I pondered the question, probing my brain and finding it, surprisingly, intact.
"I... I think I'm okay," I said, turning to him. "That was, uh... intense."
He smiled at me, though it was hollow and strange and didn't quite reach his eyes, and I had the strangest sensation of falling, as though I were seeing an entirely different Anton Waters than the one I knew. Admittedly, I didn't know him, but it was a startling experience. It only lasted for a moment, though, because I looked away.
"You entered a place we like to call subspace," he told me, and I realized his voice was still shaking, as though he were nervous. I gave him a sidelong glance and tried to assess his mental state, but I didn't know him well enough to read him.
"Who calls it that?" I asked him.
He shrugged. "The BDSM community," he replied. His voice was stronger now, more sure. "I am surprised it happened."
I'd read about the toys he wanted to use—hell, they were meticulously
detailed in our prenuptial agreement—but I hadn't read about anything that sounded like 'subspace.' "What's that?"
He shrugged. "It is simply a state of incoherence and abandons." His brow furrowed. "You were able to lose yourself."
Yeah, that felt about right.
Next to me, Anton stood up. Thankfully I was able to stay relatively upright and snuggled further into the blanket.
As it turned out, someone had packaged up my old clothes for me, and Anton retrieved them and helped me put them on, though it was probably like threading a spaghetti noodle through the eye of a needle for the most part. Then we got out of the limo together and walked—me with shaking legs and him mostly holding me up—to a private elevator. I leaned on him as we ascended, and when the elevator doors dinged I was about ready to go to sleep on my feet.
Anton half-carried me through the sumptuously appointed penthouse suite, which was nice enough that I was able to notice it as I stumbled through it on my way to bed. Gold and cream covered every surface, and floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto the strip drenched in the syrupy golden light of the setting desert sun.
Then we were in the bedroom and Anton was undressing me with warm, tender hands, and I could only let him, the soft pleasure of his touch radiating out over my fatigued body. When at last I was completely nude, he laid me down on the bed and coaxed me to drink a few sips of water before I let myself sink into the pillow, which was soft and white as a cloud. Less damp, though.
The last thing I remembered was Anton slipping a blanket that radiated warmth under the covers with me and smoothing the hair back from my forehead. Then I was asleep.
***
At precisely midnight I snapped awake. My whole body hummed with energy, though my brain was a little behind the times. I had to force myself to survey the room and remember where I was.
In Vegas, I thought. In Anton Waters' private suite. And you're married to him.
Congratulations.
Licking my lips, I sat up and the soft comforter fell away from me. Beside me, a body shifted, and I started.
Looking down, I was barely able to make out Anton's form in the dark. He was bare-chested and fast asleep, and though I sort of wanted to study that incredible physique a little longer, what I wanted to do was take a piss.
Yeah, I know. Romantic, right? Great wedding night.
Slipping out of the bed, I tiptoed quickly across the floor. My eyes were adjusting quickly to the light, and I managed to find the door that led out of the room and into the living area.
It wasn't quite as impressive in the dark, but the view of the strip was better. Lights twinkled and danced outside the window, and I had to repress the urge to go stare at them. I had to find a bathroom, fast.
I winched my legs in and danced around the room, my eyes darting this way and that, trying to find a door that might maybe have led to a bathroom. My only comfort was that if I did pee all over Anton's floor, at least it was marble and easily cleaned up. I'd have been in real trouble if it was carpeted. At last, I found a door next to the kitchen and wrenched it open, thanking the heavens when it revealed a lovely little half-bath. I dove inside and sat down.
As the relief of finally being able to, well, relieve myself washed over me, I found less worldly concerns begin to rise and come to the fore.
Such as... well, what now?
I was now married to Anton Waters. I was now his wife, and I still didn't know anything about him. Except that he had a seemingly magical cock that could make me do anything he wanted. That was not a good thought to have. Reaching down, I wiped myself and felt the residue of our fuck-session in the limo. Yuck. I needed a shower. A hot shower. And I needed to talk to someone.
I flushed, washed my hands, and exited the bathroom. In the light of the strip, the suite was illuminated, if not as bright as day then at least to the brightness of a full moon. Squinting, I poked my way around, hoping against hope that someone had given me more than three seconds' thought, and brought my purse up. At last, I spotted it on the kitchen counter, snugged into a corner, and looked very out of place on the fine granite. Digging inside it I sighed with relief when I found my phone.
I flipped it on and found it still had quite a bit of battery left. I hightailed it back to the half-bath, shut the door, and called Sadie.
She picked up on the third ring.
"Hey, girl," she drawled. "How'd dress shopping go?" "I'm married," I blurted.
She didn't answer for a moment. Then: "What?"
"I'm married," I repeated. "What?"
"Married, Sadie. Married."
"I fucking heard you the first time!" she snapped. "What I want to know is... What? And... like, how?"
"I don't know," I snapped back. "It's all kind of a blur."
"Oh GOD fuck, Lis. When I said you needed to get married in the next twenty-four hours before I drunk-blabbed it, I didn't fucking mean it."
"Well it wasn't my idea," I said, and I briefly outlined the sequence of events that had led to a sudden elopement in Vegas.
"So what you're saying is you gave him a blowjob so amazing that he had to marry you right then and there?" Sadie asked when I was done.
"No!" Memories of Anton's traumatized face flashed across my mind and I shuddered. "No, nothing like that. It was like a spur of the moment thing, I guess."
"I guess," she said. "You didn't tell me you were sleeping with him already."
"I'm not," I said. "I mean, I wasn't. I... shit, I don't know. All I know is that he is super hot and we were kind of all over each other since the first day we met. But we didn't do, like, The Deed until after we were married."
She started to laugh. "You waited to have sex until you were married?" she howled at me. "Oh my god, that's rich."
"Shut up! It wasn't my choice," I said. "I'd have fucked him five minutes after meeting him if he'd let me. And we've done other things."
"You didn't tell me that before." "It didn't seem important."
"You are a ditz," Sadie said. "Of course it's important. He's really into you. You don't think that's a big deal somehow? Like, I don't know, it might have an impact on your marriage?"
Okay, truthfully, I hadn't thought it out that far. And it hadn't seemed like the sort of thing you needed for a stable marriage. Huge libidos, I had always thought, seemed like they were less likely to make a marriage work. Just look at my parents.
"I don't know if he's into me or just wants a wife," I said.
"I thought you were going to talk to him about that or something." "I don't remember."
"Shit." I heard her sigh over the line. "You don't remember a lot. What, does his semen contain some kind of mind-altering drug?"
I hesitated. "Maaaaaaaaaaaaybe," I said. "God. What time is it there?"
"Only midnight."
"You'd better go wake him up," she said. "You need to ask him why he wanted a wife in the first place."
"But what if he drugs me with his cock again?" I asked nastily.
"Then bottle that shit up and sells it," she said and hung up. Sadie liked to hang up at dramatic points in conversations. She said it kept her life more like a Hollywood drama and less like a seedy, unfinished biopic. I said it was fucking annoying, but what did I know? I was a ditz.
I shut my phone off and sat on the toilet seat for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. When that didn't work, I resolved to have a shower. Showers always helped me think. Also, I was extra gross.
But when I tiptoed back into our bedroom, I found myself slowing down and trying to decide what to do. If I took a shower in the bathroom that had to be around here somewhere, he was probably going to wake up and want to fuck me. And for the first time, I found myself not wanting that. The experience we shared in the limo was still too new, too raw, and at the surface. I just wanted to take a shower and go back to sleep. So what turned men off from sex?
I smiled. Talking.
I scrambled into bed next to Anton and gave him a hard poke in the side. He woke almost instantly, inhaling sharply and twitching out of sleep so violently that I almost felt bad for him. Almost. In the dim light, he turned and
blinked at me.
"Felicia," he said. "What's wrong?" "Why did you want a wife?" I said. He blinked again. "What?" he asked.
"I'm curious. I want to know why you wanted to marry someone you didn't even know?"
Sagging back into his pillow, Anton rubbed a hand over his face. "Felicia..." he said.
I knew that tone of voice. The worst tone. "Nuh-uh," I told him. "You said you would listen to whatever I had to say."
"Yes, but I never promised to answer your questions."
Fuck. He was right. And there was nothing I could do about that, was there?
"Fuck you," I said. "Eat a bag of dicks. I'm going to go take a shower."