Raw and Broken Ch. 06

"Now, that's not fair. It's my job to make you moan."

Which I did even louder when he stepped up behind me just as I turned to let the water hit my front side. The length of his cock pressed against my ass. His hands brushed along my hips and sides to settle under my breasts as he cupped them in his palms.

I cried out, recoiling. Damn, why did his touch hurt so much?

Stefan froze. "Daphne? Are you okay?"

"Water must be too hot."

I pressed back against him to prove I was fine. He must have accepted it because he rubbed against me. His thumbs and forefingers circled my nipples, pinching and pulling them as hot streams coursed down my chest.

I gritted my teeth as tears blurred my eyes. Every blessed cell of my body seemed to have turned the sensitivity knob up several notches. I must have really overdone it lately. I just needed to relax today.

"Let's play a game," his voice rumbled in my ear. "We could tell each other what we're thankful for."

"Um, I'm thankful for a beautiful house on the beach."

He kissed the space between my shoulderblades. "I'm thankful for my beautiful fiancée."

"I'm thankful for a beautiful house in Paris."

His hand was on my hip, his fingers stroking over my wet skin. "I'm thankful my fiancée is a model."

"I'm thankful for being able to be near Malcolm and Becca."

His fingers wandered down and circled my clit. "I'm thankful for that, too."

"I'm thankful for..."

"Me?" Stefan pressed against me from behind again.

"For your wonderful cock."

He chuckled, then he turned me suddenly and gently pressed on my shoulders.

I knelt willingly and cupped his balls in one hand while I wrapped my fingers around his wet cock. I licked at the head, teasing him. Despite the heat of him in my hand and the hot water against my back, I shivered. I could feel him watching me. I raised my eyes and lowered my mouth at the same time.

His jaw clenched as my lips wrapped around and I took him deeper into my mouth. Then his hands were in my hair, holding me. Guiding me.

I kept my eyes locked on his throughout because I wanted to, not because he was forcing me. I moved my hands behind him to grab his ass. He was gentle, and I felt no fear. Instead, there was only desire within me growing stronger and stronger.

As his eyes darkened, he pulled free and helped me to my feet. Which I was glad because I'd been pressing my breasts against his thighs, and they were screaming for relief. He spun me around and bent me over so my hands were on the built-in seat of the shower. I gasped as he penetrated me from behind. He gripped my shoulders and thrust fast and hard. It felt wonderful, even as I grew colder since his body blocked the water.

By the time we'd both reach orgasm, I was freezing. But the natural rush I felt made it worth it.

Stefan pulled me upright afterwards and held my back against him under the water, which he had to turn up twice. We washed quickly and toweled each other off before scrambling back to bed and diving under the covers. There, we cuddled in each other's warmth...and I tried not to cry as I suddenly felt overwhelmed. For no apparent reason.

We ended up spooned with him behind me as he lazily caressed my breasts. His other hand was wedged between my thighs, his fingers stroking my pussy. I reached back and stroked him in turn. When I came, he maneuvered us so I was on my back and then made love me to me missionary-style.

Afterwards, he rested his body over mine as I stroked my fingers along his back.

"I forgot one more thing I'm thankful for. My loving fiancé," I whispered in his ear. "I'd be nothing without you, Stefan."

"You're damn right," he mumbled sleepily and kissed my cheek. His cock twitched, still buried within me, as if echoing his thought. Our bodies separated as he rolled off me, but I scooted back against him.

As we both drifted off, I hoped he had set the alarm. Malcolm and Becca would not forgive us if we slept through Thanksgiving dinner.

###

Two days later, I blinked and stared at the white stick in my hand, my heart beating wildly.

Was it right? It couldn't be right. Did I want it to be wrong, though?

"Well?"

I flinched and looked up at Stefan who had stopped his pacing. Although we'd taken a good chunk of the room away for the office, the master bath still remained vast. At least it had seemed so for the last five minutes. I took a deep breath and read the verdict. "Vous allez être un père."

He ran his hand through his hair. "Honey, usually I think it's the sexiest thing when you speak French to me. But could we stick to English right now?"

"Sorry." I sighed and turned the stick to face him. "You're going to be a father."

Stefan reached out, blindly grabbing at the air as he staggered around. I was already sitting on the toilet seat. He ended up wandering into the shower and sitting on the seat there. "Are you sure?"

"My body has already told me yes. This stick...well, I can go to the doctor..."

We were both silent. My heart was pounding so loud. So fast.

"Daphne, we're having a baby." Stefan was kneeling before me now, his hands covering mine. "I love you so much."

A tear slipped down my cheek as I clenched my eyes. "The doctor...he said the chances decrease after a miscarriage. I didn't want to hope."

"Hope is good." He brushed at my tears. "I will do everything in my power to make sure this baby is happy and healthy. I am with you, every step of the way. Okay?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now show me how you really feel, Mommy."

I giggled and smiled through my tears.

"That's my girl."

###

The weather was cool, but not so much that it prevented me from taking a walk along the beach on Christmas morning. The lower temperature actually made the sand firmer and easier to traverse with my shoes on. I'd woken before Stefan, just as the sun was starting to sparkle across the ocean. The time alone allowed me to process my thoughts about how much had changed in the past year.

I was living in a beautiful house with an amazing man who loved me for who I was, notwithstanding my faults and baggage. My best friends and family were closer than a phone call away. A little one would be joining us after the first of the year, making me an aunt. And I was expecting now myself, confirmed by the same doctor I had seen for my pregnancy with Lilly. I could never have imagined any of this.

I was putting my jacket away in the coat cabinet Stefan had built under the stairs to the second floor when I noticed the inside wall on my left looked funny. As in, it was no longer flush, like a wall. There was a slight gap. And when I pressed on the wall, it swung open. Like a door. And a light shown from the other side, illuminating a set of stairs that went down.

I thought about Stefan's secret den back at his mother's estate. About the secret hallways to his private rooms. I wanted to be mad that he hadn't told me he'd built a hidden passage in our own home. But my curiosity got the better of me.

I cautiously descended to the lower level, gripping the handrail that followed the slope. When I reached the bottom, another door stood agape. I walked through and stared, awestruck.

This had been one, big empty room with just the foundation as the four walls and support posts spaced periodically throughout. Now, no more was there sand and dirt underfoot, cobwebs overhead, or cinderblocks all around. Instead, the space was divided by a clean, cement-floored hallway with plastered walls. Edison lightbulbs in cages were spaced along the ceiling, giving the hall a warm glow.

On the right was a set of wide barn doors with a bar above reaching from one end of the hall to the other. Both doors were currently closed. Seeing that the entrance to this level was closer to the back than the front of the house, it didn't allot for much room on the other side since the wall was in line with the outside doorway.

I easily slid one door open to reveal a storage area that spanned the length of the house, save for the stairs I'd just come down. As I had guessed, it was only about five feet deep. But it allowed for plenty of room to walk comfortably. Most of the space was filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves. A few plastic storage crates had been stacked near where I stood, but otherwise, the shelves were bare.

We hadn't really discussed what to do with the all of the space since there wasn't access from above. I guess I'd been wrong about that. I tried to think of the last time I'd been down to this level. There had been no reason to come in beyond the first visit after we had the door unlocked. So he could have done this at any time. Or maybe it had been renovated while we were in Europe.

I closed the barn door and turned my attention to the left side of the hall—the wider part of what I considered the basement, although it was above ground. There were two doors, one at each end, also closed. The first one—across from the hidden stairs—opened into a bathroom complete with a shower, toilet, and sink. Now why would he put in another bathroom...and down here of all places?

As I approached the far door, light shone through where it wasn't fully shut. And there was a box with a number pad next to the handle. Similar to the one Drake had installed been back in California on the secret room. I frowned. When had that been installed? And why?

I pushed that door open as well to find Stefan standing in the middle of the room with his back to me, his hands on his hips. He seemed to be surveying something, as he had a tape measure laid out on the floor. He didn't seem to realize I was there, so I knocked on the door.

"Joyeux Noël, Stefan."

He spun around and grinned. "Joyeux Noël, Daphne, mon amour!"

I mimicked him with my hands on my hips. I tried to frown, but there was really nothing to be upset about. I was just surprised. "So when were you going to tell me about all of this?"

He embraced me in a hug and kissed me softly. "I was hoping to keep it a surprise until it was finished. But I think it's better you see it now. To have some input."

"What exactly are your plans?" I kissed him back and leaned my head on his shoulder as he stepped beside me, one arm still around my back.

"I would like a studio. One here in America. To expand my hobby. Unless you have other ideas. I'm sorry, I should have asked you first."

Stefan had given me a tour of his wing of rooms back at his mother's estate when we'd visited in the autumn. One of which was an elaborate studio for his photography: a bed, couch, rigging equipment. All the necessities for an indoor erotic session with the camera. There was an attached dark room with top-of-the-line equipment and materials to produce prints in color, black-and-white, and sepia tones.

I'd ventured the question if his mother knew about his hobby. He'd said she did. Her only response had been that everyone has a different appreciation of art. Then she'd told him to be safe and not make a public spectacle of himself. I didn't dare ask if she'd seen any of the prints he'd produced.

He'd also shown me a room larger than the hidden den where he had more photographs on display. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said he had a private collection. The images—what they showed and what was left to the imagination—had made my legs weak and my pussy throbbing. He had a book of personal prints. Some of them had him alone, but most were with models. In all of them, he was either fully dressed or wore just pants as he posed in various positions. No actual penetration on camera, which was a huge relief to me.

He must have seen the lust in my eyes as I'd studied each one. As I'd slowly flipped through the pages, stroking my finger over a couple of images of him in an erotic pose. He'd gently taken the book out of my hands and then dragged me across the room, ripping my clothes off before he fucked me right there against the wall between prints of other couples intertwined in sex. It—he—had been amazing.

I knew that he still considered himself an amateur when it came to the trade, even though he did it so well. He'd told me he hadn't been ready to advertise his services beyond Paris. That he mostly worked by word of mouth within a local community of kinksters, to put it simply. But I had an inkling now that he had changed his mind.

The space before me was empty except for a pile of boxes in the corner partially covered with a tarp. A blank slate. But I could envision a photography studio similar to the one in Paris. And honestly, I had accepted that this would just be dead space under the house. If he wanted an erotic man cave, he could have it. He'd uprooted from France for me. And I was taking over the extra room upstairs to make it into a nursery. The least I could do was give him a space to play in down here, mindful that he didn't put either of us or our friends and family in any jeopardy.

"Daphne? Say the word and I'll stop. I should—"

"No, you need this. I've got my fantasy window seat in the living room upstairs. The nursery. The balcony. The beach." I pointed across the room to two closed doors. "What's in there? I saw the bathroom already."

He led me to the door that had a round, red light next to it, like Malcolm used to have at his house back in Wheaton. There was also a register cover one would see for air conditioning and heat return. But I knew we had neither down here. Or at least I assumed we didn't.

As soon as he opened the door and started to speak, I wanted to smack my head. A dark room, duh. The light would signify not to enter, just as it had at Malcolm's dungeon. And the vent was for the exhaust fan to pull air out of the room. Why hadn't I put two-and-two together?

"We could share the space if you think of something," Stefan said, leading me back into the main area. "It's pretty big. It doesn't need to be just for taking pictures."

I turned around, envisioning the various stations he probably intended to set up. Among the various boxes of what I assumed were props, something caught my eye. I laughed. Then I groaned.

"You weren't supposed to see that yet," Stefan's gravelly voice met my ears.

"Do I dare ask why? Sentimental reasons?"

He shrugged then crossed the room, moving the tarp so it fully unveiled the ship's wheel that had once adorned the wall in the captain's cabin, aka the master bedroom. "Not exactly."

I stepped closer to the colossal ornament leaning against the wall. It didn't look as big as it had hanging upstairs, but still, it was over half of my height. "So what in the world were you planning do with it?"

He wrapped his arms around me from behind. His breath was warm against my cheek as he whispered, "Photograph it. Particularly with you, tied up in rope. Bound to it, maybe naked. Malcolm has some ideas for Becca, if she's game after she has the baby. Darryl and Ginger, too. Chains and the like. But all three of you ladies together? That would be a sight to see in print."

I licked my lips, barely nodding. Then I moaned as he pressed into me from behind with his own apparent arousal. I gulped, clutching at his thighs to stay upright. "Very, um, interesting. We'll see."

"Good. I'm glad you're keeping an open mind. But don't feel pressured."

I turned into his embrace and kissed him then. Good and hard. I was panting when I pulled back. "You realize how horny this all makes me?"

"No idea," he whispered, his teeth gripping my bottom lip for a moment. He took my hand and led me to the other closed door. He opened it and snapped on a light.

I would have laughed if not for the state I was in. Why had I not seen this one coming, too?

He had replicated his den at his mother's estate. His regular one, not the hidden one. While there wasn't a fireplace, there was a desk at one end and a couch facing it. And directly behind the desk was the Leonid Afremov painting that had been the topic of our conversation when I'd first met him. Across from it on the opposite wall above the couch was a similar piece of art. Except that the figures were more clearly defined...and they were having sex with the man behind the woman as she knelt on a table with a candelabra and a glass of wine before them.

"That one is 'Candles of Love.' Do you like it?"

I made some kind of grunting noise. My eyes danced over the bare shelves and the rest of the empty spaces on the walls. As if they were ready. Waiting. And I didn't have to guess what for.

As frightening as it was to think of myself on display for him like that—in here —my body was practically begging to see what he would do if given the chance. Maybe it was time to experiment with a new fetish. One that he already embraced and excelled at.

He guided me out of the den and through the studio to the hall. As we walked, he explained the door to the stairway was disguised as part of the wall, just as it was above in the closet. There was a lever hidden in the wood trim that released a latch. He'd added the coded lock for the security of the equipment in case someone broke in. Said that if I did allow him to photograph me, he had no intent of showing my photos to anyone I didn't want to see them. They would be locked up as well.

I was only half listening, though. I couldn't get that second painting out of my mind. I was imagining what the artist had been thinking when he'd selected the topic. How he'd chosen the colors and arranged them to show yet hide so much.

Stefan must have been affected as well because he suddenly took my hand and started up the stairs. "I want you. Right now."

I tugged on his hand. "Wait."

He glanced back at me. Something flickered in his eyes. Disappointment? Frustration?

"Take me like the painting." I gestured toward the studio. "Fuck me on the desk."

His mouth twitched but he switched directions. He left me standing in the doorway to the den as he turned and faced me. As he stripped down. Then he stroked his cock while I pulled off my sweatshirt and T-shirt under it. Our eyes remained locked as I unhooked my bra and lowered my shorts and panties. Neither of us spoke, but I heard his sharp intake of breath upon revealing my breasts. My shaved pussy.

When I was as naked as he was, I approached the back of the desk and used the chair as a step to get on top. I felt the heat of him as he joined me. As I leaned forward and held the edge of the desk while he spread my legs.

His hands rested on my waist, guiding me back. I felt him position his cock. I held my breath. The tip brushed against my clit. I bit my lower lip in a muffled cry.

"Is this what you wanted, Daphne?"

"Yes!" I hissed as I lowered my body onto him. His hands gripped my waist tighter, slowing my descent. I felt every blessed inch of him as he impaled me. My moan started out low and grew louder the longer it took for him to fill me. His hands slid up my sides the further I sat upright until I was just on my knees.

By time I was sitting back on his hips, I was gasping for breath. His hands moved up to play with my breasts, which still ached, but I pushed past it. I stared straight ahead at the new painting. At the way we mimicked it. I squeezed my pussy around his cock, and it jerked. He put his hands on the top of my thighs, just like the painted man, and thrust hard until I came. Which didn't take long.

I continued rocking through my orgasm, whimpering and biting my lip harder to keep myself from zoning out. Once I was close to the pinnacle again, I arched my back against his chest. Wrapped my arm behind me around his neck while I focused on the feeling of him moving within me.

His own hands caressed my front. From my overly sensitive breasts, past my belly where our baby grew, down to my throbbing clit. Arousing me even further.

After awhile, he tugged my arm free and had me lean forward. He pressed on my shoulderblades until my arms and head were resting on the hardness of the desk. Then he spread my legs wider so my ass lowered as well.