His cock was aching, his legs trembling, his ass clenching, his balls hanging heavy by the time she had the chili simmering and the kitchen wiped down and tidy.
She seemed to be set to start something else and he couldn’t stop the words from rumbling out of his mouth.
“Need you, Mistress.”
Amélie turned to him.
“Please,” he whispered.
“So good,” she whispered back, thank fuck, doing it moving to him.
She positioned behind him and he felt her press her tits in his back.
Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Amélie,” he groaned.
She reached around with both hands, gripping his cock and cupping his balls.
“You do not move. You do not thrust. You take what I give you,” she commanded.
“Right, baby,” he grunted, amazed he could say words now that she was clearly getting down to business, his mind this time having a singular focus, her hands on his dick and balls.
She stroked, and fuck him, she did it like she had all fucking afternoon.
“Amélie,” he forced out.
“You take what I give you.”
“Need more.”
“Patience.”
Fuck.
He took what she gave him until his whole body was trembling, he felt a sheen of sweat break out, and he was grinding his teeth with the effort not to thrust.
Or come.
She released him and moved away.
“Jesus, fuck,” he panted, his eyes slicing to her. “Baby, fuckin’ please.”
She said nothing but Olly watched her walk to her purse on the counter and come back with a condom.
Thank Christ.
Standing behind him she slid it on.
“Up on your toes, Olivier, press your ass into me.”
He instantly gave her what she wanted.
And staying behind him, pressed to his back, she reached around and wrapped his cock with her hand. She also slid a hand flat down his back, through his crevice, shoved her finger only to the first knuckle up his ass, and she started to jerk him off with a purpose.
“I wish to hear your pleasure, beast,” she ordered.
“More up the ass, Mistress.”
She slid her finger deeper.
Outstanding.
His head dropped back.
“I need to thrust, Amélie.”
“No.”
“Then jack me harder, baby.”
She gripped him tight and stopped stroking.
Shit.
“Ask nice.”
He turned his head and caught her eyes.
She looked into them and the hunger took over her features.
“Please.”
“Hold still, Olivier.”
He locked his body the best he could against the trembling.
And she jacked him harder.
“Fuck,” he grunted. “Fuck. Fuck, baby. Beautiful.”
“Come at will, mon amour.”
“Faster,” he grunted.
She went faster.
“Harder, Mistress.”
She gripped him tighter, tugging deep.
And she gave it to him. His head flew back and he exploded, shooting hard into the condom.
When he was spent, head now bent, hips juddering with the aftershocks of a fantastic fucking handjob, and she was just milking him, she pulled out of the back, rimming his hole gently and pressing her tits into him.
“Clean up and when you get back, my Olivier, we’ll be going to the stables.”
He felt his body get tight.
She did too.
“Olivier?” she called.
“Those stables, that guy you had when you were younger—”
She pressed close with everything, her hand sliding up his cock to the base, her other hand flattening at the back so she was holding him through the cleft of his ass.
“The ranch we had back then was much bigger, mon amour. When my father passed, I downsized. In nothing we’ve done here do you come after another. Your place everywhere we go and everything I use on you is just yours.”
Olly felt his body relax.
Then it hit him they were heading to the stables.
Jesus.
Fuck.
Serving her all day.
She’d laid down the challenge.
He’d accepted it.
It just might kill him.
But he was loving every minute of it.
* * *
His tail up his ass again, vibrating, Amélie and Olly were alone in one of her empty stalls.
She’d let the horses out to pasture.
She’d also restrained him at his ankles, legs spread wide, and his arms, also spread wide, not much slack.
She’d further strapped his ass open and harnessed his balls.
And she’d kept the vibrations low up his ass while she cropped it as well as the backs and insides of his thighs.
And last, she’d paddled his balls with that biting sweet sting he liked so goddamned much.
Sweet agony.
All of it.
Yeah, this just might kill him.
And it was going to be a fucking astounding way to go.
She’d taken her time with it all. Each step. Lavishing him with attention to the point Olly did not feel he was in a stall in a stable.
It was Amélie and Olivier, what she was doing, what he was feeling, that was his whole world.
The crop went away and he felt the vibrations increase even as he felt his hole stretched.
That fucking tail not only twitched, it lifted.
Olly shuddered.
“Beautiful,” she whispered, and he felt the slide of the crop through his legs from behind, shafting up, stroking his balls and dick.
Olly rode it.
“Beautiful,” she breathed, taking more, watching him give her what she wanted.
Finally, she glided it away and, drifting a hand over his hip, she moved to his front.
He did his best to catch her eyes.
“Your ass red from my crop, your tail seated so pretty, your cock heavy.” She gripped his dick and her grip shot from cock to balls to ass right up his spine, radiating over his scalp then spiking down over every inch of his skin.
Agony.
So damned sweet.
He gritted his teeth.
“Are you enjoying serving your Mistress, my beast?”
“Yes,” he bit out.
“You have so much to give, all of it pleasing,” she shared.
“Thrilled, Amélie,” he grunted, because she’d said that while she stroked him deep.
“One last thing I ask of you, mon chou, and I’ll be releasing you so you can give it to me.”
“Anything.”
He said it. He meant it. In a stall. In her barn at the club. In her bed. Balls paddled. Ass strapped. Bent over a table in the social room. On his back, his legs in the air, stretched wide, her pussy shoved in his face. Naked and on hands and knees before her, her pretty feet resting on his back while she read a goddamned book.
Fuck, he’d take her fucking him up the ass if she was behind the cock.
Olly would take anything from his Amélie.
So he could give everything to his Amélie.
“Do you remember the second time I had you?” she asked.
He tried to focus on her when he had so much to focus on. The air on his tanned ass and thighs was burning into his skin, up his hole, into his balls. Those balls were straining. His tail was still thumping up his ass. And if she didn’t stroke him again, he was afraid he’d lose it and thrust.
She tugged him, it shot up and back, and he grunted at the beauty.
“Olivier?” she called.
“I remember,” he pushed out.
“Assume that position.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“So good,” she murmured, let his cock go and moved to the restraints.
She released him and Olly dropp
ed. He turned his calves in at the back, arched into them with his hands at his ankles, back bowed, this shoving his tail deeper up his ass, and that felt so fucking phenomenal, he felt a drop of pre-cum drip from his dick.
“And what caused that, I wonder,” she purred.
She could take her pick.
Amélie smoothed her finger over the head of his cock, whisking away the cum, and he watched her touch that finger to her tongue.
Fuck, he needed this done.
“Mistress.”
She turned her eyes to him, on his knees, arched proudly, offering his cock to her.
The hunger took over her face and Olly nearly exploded at the look of it before she bent to him, latched on and jacked him brutally, just as he needed it. Using his dick to yank his whole body into a deeper arc, shoving his tail farther up his ass, blanking his mind to everything but her and him and that moment they had together of trust and giving and understanding and sheer fucking beauty.
“Take my cum,” he grunted.
“Give it,” she ordered.
And he shot, hearing his uncontrollable snarls, his cum jetting up his belly as she milked him dry.
When his load slowed, she drew down the vibrations and stroked him gently, gliding a hand over his cock head as he shuddered through the last spurts, and when she released him, he slumped, ass to calves, arms falling forward, head bowed.
He felt her get close and she stroked the back of his hair. So it took effort, but he gave his Mistress what she wanted.
He tipped his head back.
She moved and kissed him, deep and soft.
When she lifted away, she whispered, “You’re like a dream come true, my Olivier.”
He seriously fucking liked it that she thought that way, said it like she meant it more than he could imagine, and did it looking at him like it was the straight-up truth.
He also knew what she meant.
“Right back atcha, baby,” he mumbled.
With his words, Olly watched his Amélie’s eyes smile.
“Serving is done,” she said softly. “I’m unsurprised but still feel the need to share that you’ve performed magnificently. I’ll take care of you now, but for the rest of the night, it’s just Olly and Leigh.”
The good part about that was that he wanted that, was looking forward to having Leigh and nachos and probably college football (and some recuperation time) at her kick-ass ranch in the Arizona mountains.
At the same time he was disappointed it was over.
He’d get it back.
And if he worked it right—and he was going to fucking work it right—he’d have them both.
For a very long time.
* * *
It was the early hours of the morning when Olly woke her.
The cats vacating the premises immediately, he didn’t delay.
He worked her until he had her excited and under him.
Then he hauled her up to her knees and he drilled her.
He’d come five times that day. He was primed.
So he mounted her, curving over her, mouth working every inch of her neck, up behind her ears, shifting her hair out of the way when he needed to, tugging it out of the way when he felt like it.
And he fucked her, powering into her, hard and deep, alternating fingers to clit and each tit like he could take her until dawn and beyond.
And her harsh breaths, her whimpers, her soft cries, her hot, drenched pussy spasming around him driving him on, her lips begging him not to stop, Olly took Leigh there.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Until her knees gave out from under her and she was held up only by his dick.
Olly caught her at the top insides of her thighs, pulling them apart, feeling the contraction of her cunt around his dick when he did, hearing her sharp gasp hit him right in his balls.
And he continued to pound into her.
Until she came again.
And after, finally she twisted her neck to catch his eyes and begged faintly, “Please, baby, I can’t take more.”
Only then did he drive deep, filling her and watching her head jerk back convulsively, her hair dark in the shadows flying down her back, her sweet ass arched to him, and his grunt scored through the room as he shot deep inside his Leigh.
Still recovering, he took her down to her belly, covering her and only pulled out when he heard her breath even.
He was a lot easier on his Leigh. One “please, baby,” and he gave her what she wanted.
He thought this, doing it smiling, as he went to the bathroom, cleaned up, took a warm cloth out and cleaned her as she purred sleepily.
Leigh-Leigh purring sleepily, barely able to move her beautiful body.
Fucking cute.
Olly returned the cloth and climbed back into bed with Leigh, tucking her under him and yanking up the covers.
“Too much weight?” he asked.
“No,” she mumbled.
Good to know.
He liked Leigh right there, trapped under him.
“You’re right, Leigh-Leigh, the correct blend of sour cream and guacamole, a delicacy.”
“Shut up, Olly,” she ordered, her pretty voice drowsy and adorable.
He grinned into her hair.
She snuggled under his body.
But Olly lay in the dark thinking that this was having it all.
And like his dad with his mom, he finally understood that, when you had it all, you never let it go.
Even if it goes away from you.
seventeen
Remained Standing
AMÉLIE
The stroking of fingers on the small of her back penetrated the languid oblivion Amélie was experiencing and her eyes opened to see a strong collarbone proudly jutting along a set of wide shoulders.
She tilted her head back, and as she did, she watched Olly dip his chin.
“Hey,” he whispered when their gazes caught.
Dream come true.
“Good morning, darling,” she whispered back.
Something beautiful passed through his eyes before he bent to her and touched his mouth to hers.
It wasn’t enough before he pulled away.
Oh, but she could wake up like this every day and she didn’t even need the kiss. The words. The stroking.
Just Olly.
“You gonna work me, baby, or feed me?” he asked, still speaking softly, like the cocoon of bed and bedclothes would break wide open exposing them to the cold reality of life if he used a normal voice and he didn’t want that.
Not at all.
Amélie loved that, adored it, felt the same way.
Even so, at the same time she felt something prick that cocoon, nagging at her, attempting to draw her attention.
She ignored it.
Instead Amélie thought that she’d tried him greatly the day before. Not further than where she would have taken a rookie sub with his experience (that experience mostly given by her so she had an excellent understanding of where she could take him), but she’d still tested him.
He’d bested her challenge magnificently (unsurprisingly).
But with their activities instigated by Olly earlier that morning, activities she still felt throbbing delicately in her pussy, she felt it was time they both had a break.
“I think it’s best I feed you. We’ll have a lazy morning.”
Olly showed no disappointment, but not in a way that was disappointing to Amélie. He was simply relaxing into her flow.
“Works for me.”
She gave him a soft smile before she gave him his choices. “I have everything, Olly. Eggs and bacon. Sausage. Pancake mix. And those cinnamon rolls you pop out of a tube.”
His smile was not soft but wide and white.
“My Leigh bought cinnamon rolls you can pop out of a tube?”
He sounded like this was something he couldn’t fathom. Not something he didn’t like, but it was still something he couldn??
?t fathom.
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“Then definitely cinnamon rolls,” he decided.
She drifted a hand up his spine. “Have I been remiss in not making you dessert?”
“Babe, you made enough nachos to fell an elephant. I’m not going hungry.” He gathered her closer, his eyes saying more than his next words did. “But yeah, I like sweet.”
She’d give him sweet. She’d bake him cinnamon rolls from a tube every day of his life if she had that opportunity.
That something again stabbed at their peaceful-togetherness cocoon.
“Then we’ll have cinnamon rolls,” she decided, again ignoring the sensation.
“And bacon,” he added.
“And bacon,” she agreed.
“You see to that, it’d be cool I could go out for a short run. You’ve been putting me through my paces, Leigh-Leigh, but not sure how many calories I’m burning. I won’t be long.”
She nodded against the pillow.
Olly’s eyes dropped to her mouth then he rolled into her, pinning her to the bed under his warm, solid weight, and he gave her a kiss that was a good deal more than a touch of their mouths.
When he broke it, he ordered, “Wait for me for a shower.”
She snuggled closer. “If I wait for you to return to have a shower, you eat breakfast sweaty or I can’t bake the rolls until after we’re done. I only have one tube. It’d be a shame they burned while we shower, or we ate them cold. They’re best when they’re all gooey and melty.”
His lips quirked before he said, “You’re right. They’re best when they’re all gooey and melty.” He emphasized those two words in a tone trembling with barely held back laughter. He finished with, “Then hang. I can wait until I get back and get showered to eat. You?”
She gave him his words, “Works for me.”
Olly then gave her another touch of his lips but this time, he came right back in and nipped her lower one.
That was new.
That was nice.
She could have that every day too.
God.
She felt that slither down her chest into her belly and below at the same time her arms tightened and she fought them doing that in a way she’d never let go.
“Run. Shower. Food,” he muttered, his gaze losing focus as his eyes again drifted to her mouth.
“Run. Shower. Food,” she repeated.
Clearly, before he could change his mind, he rolled, not losing hold on her as he did, and they were both on their feet.