Raw Ch. 12

After three days in bed, he was bored to death and insisted on going downstairs to the living room with the aid of his crutches. His new plan was to veg in front of the TV or nap throughout the day and then go upstairs to sleep at night. He said he could handle it and waved away my offer of extra support on his initial decent. But when I witnessed him pausing every two steps to press his hand to his side—along with the beads of sweat on his brow once he'd made it to the living room—I put my foot down.

I frowned and pointed to the armchair. I left him to wonder what I was doing as I stripped his temporary bed upstairs and gather half of the pillows I'd used to create a cushion around him while he slept. When I returned, he was sitting with his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, his forehead resting in his palm. He had closed his eyes, but they popped open as I dragged the couch to position it with one arm butted up against the wall for better TV viewing. He watched silently as I made up a bed and moved the ottoman and an end table within reach.

"You will be staying down here for the duration," I said, my hands on my hips as I surveyed the new living arrangements. "The last thing I want or need is for you to fall down the stairs. Plus, you're closer to the kitchen if you need to get something to eat or drink and I'm not available. You'll have to use the half-bath, but I think you can manage."

He cringed as he stood up and hobbled over to the couch. I helped him get his left leg up onto the seat cushions, tucking a blanket around where his toes poked free of the cast. Then I stuffed pillows behind his head and the rest of his body. He sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes again.

I watched as the creases on his forehead slowly disappeared. I left him long enough to retrieve his pain pills and a glass of water. "Here, take these before you fall asleep."

He nodded his gratefulness and set the glass on the end table.

I turned to find the remote for him and felt his right hand on my wrist. I stopped with a gasp. It no longer bothered me or brought back old memories when he did that. I was just surprised. Especially as the gesture turned more intimate when his grip loosened and slid down to clasp my hand, his thumb stroking my skin.

"Thank you, Becca." His voice seemed tight.

I let him pull me down to sit beside him, although my butt was half off the couch. For the longest time, we just stared into each other's eyes. His were glossy. Or maybe that was because mine were. I blinked, and a tear escaped.

"Don't cry." He wiped his left index finger across my cheek.

I shivered from the light touch, and another tear made its trek down to where he now cupped my face. He brushed that one away as well. "I'm sorry—"

"Shh." He lifted our joined hands up and pressed his lips to my knuckles. Then he moved both of my hands so they rested on his shoulders.

I watched him as I slid my hands back further, his disheveled locks tickling my fingers. His eyes were searching mine. Looking deep inside of me. I had just inhaled a shaky breath when his hands mirrored mine and pulled me closer, kissing me. I gasped again, caught off guard.

It started out light at first. Gentle touches. Lips brushing lips. Fingers stroking through each other's hair. With every second we kissed, tension drained from my muscles. The soft gasp that passed from my mouth as his hand fisted and tugged my head back must have spurred him on. I don't think he had realized how relaxed I was at that moment...that I was only upright due to his arms around my neck.

He let out a low growl, and his mouth pressed harder against mine. His tongue entered in sweeping motions, teasing and caressing at the same time. He moved one of his hands down to support my back. It also pressed my breasts against his upper chest and right shoulder in my cockeyed position.

I let out a moan. It had been three days since that kiss in the hospital room. The doctor had been concerned about a rash that had developed on Malcolm's cheek and hand. Some tests thankfully showed it was just an allergic reaction to the Steri-Strips used to close the surface wounds from his fight with Jesse, but it had delayed his discharge by a day.

Now, a low thrumming started between my legs at the feel of him. The taste. I whimpered as his hand released my hair and stroked down to cup my breast. His fingers pinched my nipple through my shirt and bra. I broke the kiss, leaning my head back to moan. His lips took the cue to caress my neck, his tongue flicking out to trace my carotid artery.

I cried out as he suddenly stopped and held me away, his hands gripping my biceps. I tried to pull him back to me. My heart was racing. My need growing.

"Becca, don't," he said, panting.

I shook my head as the darkness faded from his eyes. "No...no! You started—"

"I know, sweetie. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. It's too soon." He cringed as he tried to scoot over to give me more room to sit. He reached up to caress my cheek. His fingers played there for a moment, and I felt him pull several strands of my hair away from my damp face and tuck it behind my ear. "But I have to say, that was wonderful."

I stood up and glanced around. I realized he couldn't finish what he'd started. But I could. I scurried to the other end table and retrieved the remote, tossing it in his lap. I heard his hiss of pain but paid it no mind. It was his own fault he'd kissed me. Touched me. All while knowing he couldn't have sex with me, yet. "I'll...um...I'll be right back."

I was almost to the hallway when he said, "Becca, stop! Please!"

I paused. Then I clenched my eyes and tried not to cry. No. He couldn't do this to me. He'd already put me in a difficult situation.

There was loud growl and "Shit!" behind me.

I took another step.

His voice changed from pleading to commanding. "Lady Becca, come here!"

My legs shook as I slowly faced him, my lower lip trembling. He must have tried to turn—and found it quite painful—as both of his arms gripped the top of the couch as he watched me, his teeth clenched and hands fisted. I choked back a gasp as I connected with his dark eyes.

"Don't make me say it again."

I obeyed, but it was very reluctantly. It seemed like it took ten minutes to walk the ten steps back toward him. I stopped when I'd reached the back of the couch.

"Where were you going?"

"I...um..."

"Becca..."

I pointed upstairs.

"And what were you going to do up there?"

My face flushed. When I was able to speak, my voice was high-pitched. "To find release."

His eyes narrowed.

I gulped. "To find release, Sir."

"Turn on the ceiling fan then stand in front of the chair."

I obeyed, but once again, my feet felt like I was wearing shoes and walking underwater. I shivered after completing the first task. It was the beginning of April. The room was very comfortable and didn't need the added electrically powered breeze.

Once I'd reached the chair, I turned to face him. A part of me had expected a spanking. He couldn't do that from over here. I sighed with disappointment.

"Take off your clothes."

"What?" I don't know why it slipped out. Why I questioned him.

"You heard me."

Now my hands trembled along with my legs as I pulled my shirt over my head. When I reached to do my pants next, I heard his "Uh uh." I couldn't look at him for some reason, so I studied the designs in the rug beneath my socks. I moved my hands up to my bra and he said, "Yes." I bit my lip to control a whimper as I released the clasps and my breasts met the cool air of the room. I saw the method to his madness as my nipples puckered painfully, making me catch my breath.

He groaned.

I held my hand at my waist again. When there was no sound of disapproval, I unzipped my jeans and lowered them. My panties were the last to go. Unfortunately, they stuck a little due to my arousal, and I had to spread my legs to release the fabric. I heard another groan from the couch as I dropped my underwear to my ankles and stepped clear of them.

"Turn around."

I let my breath out slowly as I faced the closed patio door. At least I didn't have to worry about looking at him. I had no idea why that was an issue now. Maybe it was shame that I couldn't control myself, as he was able to. I could have put on a façade and taken care of the situation later with him none the wiser. What an impatient dolt I had been.

"Spread your legs wider." When I had done so, he said, "Put your forearms on the seat of the chair."

I obeyed. My ass went up, and I felt the cool air against my pussy now. Goosebumps prickled like little bubbles popping all over my legs and arms.

There was silence for an ungodly length of time. The longer I stood there, the more I grew tired. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other a couple of times. Then I checked myself as I realized that the movement was making my ass shake. My face was on fire now. What the heck was wrong with me?

"Are you wet, Lady Becca?"

His voice startled me, and my knees buckled. I composed myself and straightened my legs. I realized he was waiting for an answer. But before I could speak, he did.

"Take your finger and run it through your pussy."

As I did so, my knees threatened to give out again. Shivers ran up my back as I finally had some pressure against my sensitivity, as brief as it was. I let out a silent cry and rubbed a second time.

"Stop. Wipe it on your ass."

I reached behind me and stroked my right middle finger across my right ass cheek. I knew the shiny slickness I left behind as I had looked at my finger when I'd removed it from between my legs. My tangy scent was evident from where I stood. I wondered if the fan's circulation drew the smell to him as well.

There was a groan of approval from behind me. Then, "Turn around and sit down. Spread your legs so they're hanging over the arms of the chair."

Now my whole body was shaking. I wasn't able to stand up fully. I did a sort of roll over where one moment, my arms were on the seat and the next my ass was, but I'd stayed bent over. I took deep breaths as I positioned the underside of my knees over the padded material that wrapped around most of the old-fashioned arms. Then I closed my eyes and waited.

"Look at me, Lady Becca."

I pried my eyes open with a whimper.

"Good girl." He held my gaze for a moment before his eyes slowly dropped down my body.

I didn't know how much he could see from about eight feet away. But it didn't stop my breasts from heaving with my breathing now. My fingers twitched, indecisive. I wanted to cover myself below.

And that's when it hit me. In the three years we'd been together, we'd done all kinds of sexual, erotic things. I'd masturbated quite frequently prior to meeting him. And admittedly, quite a bit more after, but not so much since we'd moved in together.

Never I had I done it in front of him. It hadn't occurred to me to do so since he was always there to do it to me. And there had only been the one time—during the blizzard—that he'd stroked his own cock to get off and I was present (granted he'd tied me up, so I couldn't have gone anywhere if I'd wanted to).

He'd never requested it of me. Until now. Because that's the only direction this was going. And it scared the shit out of me for some reason.

I was okay with having him tie me up to feed me his cock; fuck me senseless; or chain me to a cross on the wall so he could whip me while I had a buttplug or vibrator inside me. But suddenly I was Sister Christian when it came to sticking my fingers between my legs while he watched? Maybe I was crazy.

I shivered and licked my lips. I could do this. I loved him. I was marrying him. It was far past time for him to watch me as I brought myself pleasure. My fate accepted, I let out my breath slowly and relaxed, waiting for his direction.

"You look so beautiful, Lady Becca," Malcolm said, licking his lips as well.

My breasts rose up as I inhaled, watching how his hand moved slightly from where it lay in his lap. I knew the accident hadn't affected his cock, and that the makeout session had definitely turned him on. But the doctor had said no rigorous activity until his ribs healed. They were fractured, not completely broken, but we wanted to avoid the latter. Knowing our sex habits, that could very well be the result.

It was another agonizing few minutes before he spoke again. The whole time I sat there with my legs parted, my hands draped over my knees like some lewd sex goddess statue. And the thought that kept circulating in my head was how much more erotic this would be if we had some rope.

"You know," he said, clearing his throat, "I really wish you'd brought the rope back with you. I'd love to tie your legs to those wooden arms. Bind your breasts. Secure you to the chair back so you can only move your hands."

My pussy clenched in desire. God, how I loved how he could read my mind. I licked my lips again.

"Another time, definitely." He smiled as I nodded. "But for now..."

I held in my breath, my entire body on high alert. If he made me sit here and wait...

"These are the rules. You must stay in the chair. You can only use your hands. And you must keep your eyes on me until you come. Otherwise, I don't care how or when you come. Do you understand?"

I nodded vigorously. Instinctively, I flexed my fingers. My pussy throbbed now, begging to be touched.

The corner of his mouth turned up. "There are no restrictions on using your voice, Lady Becca."

"Uh...Yes, Sir!"

"You may begin when you're ready." He seemed to settle back into his corner of the couch, his arms spread out along the back and arm of the couch. "Oh, and if you break any of the rules, there will be consequences. Understood?"

"Y-yes, Sir." My hands immediately went to my breasts, and I cooed, relaxing into the form of the chair. The globes were heavy. Warm. Supple. My thumbs grazed over my nipples, and my eyes immediately began to close in relief.

"Lady Becca!"

I sat upright with a start, staring at him with my breasts cupped in my hands, my nipples pinched between each thumb and forefinger.

"That was your only warning."

Did he have any idea how hard it was to keep your eyes open when you're feeling such pleasure? You want to sink into it. Embrace it.

I whimpered as I returned to fondling my breasts for him. Squeezing. Rubbing. A vision of his cock sliding between them had my tongue darting out, licking at the imaginary head. I kept my eyes on him, my chin tucked to my chest.

His eyes widened as I leaned forward a little more and raised my right breast.

For a fraction of a second, I wondered if this was breaking the rule of only using my hands, but he didn't give any indication of a violation. The tip of my tongue flicked at my nipple. I bent even more and was able to suck it into my mouth. Nipping with my teeth. Pulling my lips back so he could see.

His inhale sounded like a hiss as it carried across the room.

Although it made my neck ache, I repeated the process on my left breast. I was mindful to keep my eyes trained in his direction. He seemed to shift a little, which made me smile.

I know he wanted me to put on a show for him. But his kisses had driven me well on the way to madness. I'd been denied, and the desire had waned. Now, given the chance for redemption, it twisted inside again. I didn't know how long I could hold out. It might be a short performance.

With my left hand still caressing my left breast, I slid my right hand down my stomach and stopped with my palm resting just above my mound. Using my index and ring finger, I parted my outer lips. They were swollen, wet, and hot to the touch.

Although I had to keep my eyes on him, his gaze remained on my body, darting up only occasionally to make sure I was obeying him. I paused, waiting until his gaze returned to mine before I proceeded. I ran the tip of my tongue along my upper lip, and immediately, his eyes dropped again. I pressed my middle finger through the folds.

I'd barely touched the pad of my finger to the tip of my clit, but I cried out, my back arching away from the chair. I stared at the ceiling for a moment as I grazed my finger across my clit from side to side. I quickly glanced at him, but he was enthralled with what was happening below my waist.

Struggling to keep my eyes open and on him, I slid my finger down, pressing into the heat. Spreading my arousal around. Voyaging even further, I circled the sensitive ring of my vagina three times before I slid my finger inside with a loud moan. That brought his eyes up to mine.

I had to free both hands for a moment to adjust my position on the chair, scooting my ass toward the edge. It spread my legs wider. Abandoning my breasts, I used my left hand to hold my lower lips open while my right hand delved into my pussy. My arms created a V, pressing my breasts together while my hands worked between my legs.

Usually when I fingered myself, I had my eyes closed while I imagined being in some position or scenario with him. While it usually took me awhile to reach orgasm on my own, I found that the more erotic my imagination, the faster I achieved results. Now was definitely not the case.

It was getting harder to focus on him while alternating between rubbing my clit and thrusting two and then three fingers inside me. I whimpered my frustration as the precipice continued to elude me and my right hand started to cramp.

Time to switch tactics.

I returned to massaging my breasts with my left hand and rubbing my clit with my right. I imagined my fingers were his and he was holding the head of his cock just beyond the reach of my pussy. That he was whispering for me to come, and as soon as I did, he'd give me what I really wanted. He'd thrust his thick, hard cock in my hot, tight pussy. I even ran a finger over my entrance a few times, as if he were teasing me with the tip.

My unhurried pants turned to desperate mewls. I could feel my heart pounding wildly against my chest. Sweat gathered under my right arm that rested across my belly and dripped off my forehead. The smell of my arousal was more potent, the squishing sound louder as it coated my fingers as they moved back and forth like a self-lubricating piston.

And then suddenly, I threw my head back and cried out, my eyes clenching. My pussy pulsed around the imaginary cock my thoughts said he'd forced into me upon my scream. Little ripples spread throughout my belly.

The hand on my breast squeezed tighter, and the one between my legs tried to continue rubbing while my mind drifted away. I fought against the voice in my head that said to relax and feel. I had enough sense left to know that the feelings would flee if my hands stopped moving.

But nature won, and I gave into the feelings. I held still as long as possible afterwards, trying to keep the feeling of ecstasy flowing through me. I wanted more. I really wanted Malcolm moving within me, drawing out the orgasm as he was wont to do. Which made me whimper again.

It was a few minutes before I settled down. Before I could breathe normally. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at the ceiling. An aftershock ripped through me as I sat up straight. I arched again, holding my breath and the arms of the chair until it passed.

"You are the most amazing woman..." Malcolm's voice shook me from my headspace. "You're glowing."

I blinked, remembering he was there. I started to lower my legs, as if that would cover my sudden embarrassment. But I froze as my brain started working again and said I shouldn't do so until instructed. So I trained my eyes toward my dominant partner and waited.

He was watching me, his lips moving but no sound coming out. His arms were spread on the back and side of the couch again, but his hands were fisted.