Breaking Perfect (6 page)

She grunted and reared back, catching
her weight on her palms. He hadn’t meant to do that, but she was so wet it just
happened. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

She was panting, neck arched, head
hung back, wet curls swaying between her shoulder blades. What happened to his
timid little wife? What she said next shocked the ever loving shit out of him.

The long curve of her neck slowly
contracted and she tipped her chin down to look at him. She was sacred, and so
help him god, whatever she asked of him he would do. After one long, needy
breath, she sighed, “Don’t stop.” Her words seemed to reverberate along the
tender skin of his cock as if she whispered them over his most sensitive flesh.

He watched her as he pulled his
finger out and slid it back into her pussy, this time with his middle finger as
well. He cupped the palm of his hand against her sex, keeping his two longest
digits buried inside and pressed against her hard little clit peeking out from
the shaved hood of her mound.
 
She moaned
and her body tightened and pulsed.

“What do you need, Liberty? Tell me
what you need.”

She took two deep breaths and then,
“I need to come, Mason. Please make me come.” She never spoke like that. Words
like
come
were simply not part of her vocabulary. Her sudden boldness
was likely one of the sexiest things he had ever beheld.

He loved his tender, feminine wife,
but the fact that she had the courage to communicate her needs filled him with
pride. His mind briefly touched on their wedding night and the battle they
faced with Liberty’s shame. She’d come so far, healed so much since those
difficult times.

Bringing his wife to orgasm was
suddenly the biggest goal of his life. He dove between her thighs and fastened
his lips around her little pink clit and sucked hard, alternately running his
tongue relentlessly over the bundle of nerves located there

She cried out, her moan echoing
through the glass enclosed room. His fingers moved in and out, faster and
faster. He’d make her come so hard
she’d
feel the echo of his kiss for days
.

It occurred to him that they’d
never done this. How does a couple spend five years together, married, and this
was the first time he was eating her pussy? He’d always handled their intimacy
with kid gloves, needed to, in order to keep Liberty’s mind in the present.

Sure, he’d kissed her there before
in passing while making love, but that was nothing compared to what he was
doing to her now. Such a difference, giving, versus taking, and while he’d
given her many soft kisses in secret places upon her body, he’d never taken
from her with such greed. He feasted on her like a man crazed.

He was taking away her Madonna
status and seeing her as a female made for him to seek his pleasures with.
Taking and giving in a manner of sin that wasn’t wholesome, but carnal and
driven by greed, hunger, and need. It was freeing to be so uncivilized and
finally allow himself to gorge on the woman he craved.

Her cries built and built like a
tribal call. He believed she enjoyed herself in their bed, but she never cried
out. His fingers sawed in and out of her and her ass lifted off the tiled
poolside. She was freely offering what he needed in that moment with zero
inhibitions. Good, because he wanted to swallow every damn drop of her.

She was in a different place, a
place he’d never witnessed her go before. It was as if for the first time in
her life she allowed herself to be uncontrolled. It was as if the idea of
having a worthwhile orgasm made her illness temporarily go away. He nibbled her
clit with his teeth just as he pressed deep and tickled her G-spot.

Pleasure filled cries echoed
through the poolroom and he licked up every drop of her sweet cum. And he
watched in absolute awe, as his compulsive wife suddenly let go of all the
rules and needs for perfection so that she could experience her climax to its
fullest. She was beautiful, because his Liberty was suddenly free
.

* * *
*

Liberty couldn’t move so she
allowed Mason to lift her and carry her into the house. Her sex-muddled mind
could hardly understand why watermarks left by the trail from the pool wouldn’t
be a good thing.

Her body shivered as the cool
central air within the house replaced the warm moist air of the poolroom. By
the time Mason laid her on their bed her senses were beginning to return.
“You’re going to get chlorine marks on the duvet,” she moaned and he laughed.

“I don’t care.”

“But it will stain.” An
uncomfortable ache intruded at the thought of such an imperfection.

“Then we’ll send it out to the
cleaners. Now, stop worrying and kiss me.” His lips gently pressed into hers.

She was exhausted from coming so
hard. He’d never done anything like that before in their relationship. Their
track record of timid, controlled affections had everything to do with the way
she was and the ghosts of her past, but the way he’d just behaved…it was like a
fantasy come true. She very well could be dreaming. Hopefully, if she was, she
didn’t start moaning in her sleep and wake Mason up!

He gently coaxed her mouth open and
his tongue explored. Her desire rekindled and she found it almost impossible to
lie passively beneath his touch. Her thighs rubbed together slowly as friction
and sensation built. Mason wedged his muscled thigh between hers and she sighed
at the hard contact. Shamelessly, she began to grind against his leg as his
heavy cock rested over her hip.

Arousal smeared over her skin and
her mouth watered. Would Mason ever let her taste him the way he tasted her?
She never much considered doing such a thing, found it difficult to understand
how putting him in her mouth could bring her pleasure, but after his reaction
to her at the pool, she had to wonder.

He kissed a trail down her neck and
there was something so different about the way he was touching her, something
aggressive and potent—something she had obviously been starved for. It was as
if one of those walls her husband always kept firmly in place had suddenly come
down. She wished she could pinpoint what caused this aggressive side of him. If
it was something she had done to provoke it, she wanted to know exactly what it
was.

Her body arched beneath him when
his hot mouth latched onto her aching nipples.
Hard, suck them hard
, she wanted to scream. But she remained silent
because that would be like asking for flowers. It would diminish the value
somehow if she had to ask. She wanted him to
know
.

As if he sensed her need, Libby twitched
when the sharp scrape of teeth abraded the sensitive tip of her breast like a
shard of glass pressing against a rose petal.

She moaned and he quickly
apologized, misinterpreting the sound. When his mouth licked over the sensitized
area she wanted to weep with pleasure. Her hands held onto his broad shoulders
as he continued to kiss and suck her flesh.

Mason’s cock bobbed over her bare
mound and her clit swelled as if begging and reaching for his contact. Her
thighs spread and his body fell into place, all parts aligning just as they
should. Her folds were so damp. The tip of his length already began to
penetrate.
Oh, God, yes!

His hips moved, making slow,
shallow dips into her folds. She wanted him to fill her, stretch her, be a part
of her. “Please, Mason.”

He moaned and nudged a little
deeper as his hot mouth left wet marks over her small breasts and shoulders. He
was only halfway in. She never understood why he held back with her. Sure he
was a large man and she was a petite woman, but she had no doubt she could take
all of him. Mason would never be brutal with her or cause her pain
intentionally if he could avoid it. His cock slipped farther into her channel
and she sighed.

“God, Lib, you’re so hot you burn
me. So perfect. I could spend days inside of you.” Her pussy fluttered around
him in response to his words, but he held back, not allowing himself to slide
farther into her. She thrust her hips up and forced him deeper. He sucked in a
sharp breath. “Easy, baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

She let a whimper escape. She had
such a need to have him possess her completely. Why the lack of something that
never bothered her before suddenly drove her to the brink of screaming, she
didn’t know. She wanted all of him, was coming undone from her wanting.
“Please, Mason, please.”

“What, baby? Tell me.”

“I need more,” she begged as her
lips pressed into his chest.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Liberty.
You’re too small.”

She wanted to shriek. She wasn’t a
child. Usually so very even keeled and levelheaded, an unfamiliar temper
grabbed hold of her. Her feet flattened on the bed, spreading her knees beside
his hips, and she tried to yank him into her, immediately regretting the action.
Not because he hurt her. On the contrary, the additional inch of him she gained
was splendid. It was the way his body tensed.

She surprised him by not listening
and his disappointment in her unprecedented disobedience was like an intrusive
presence between them. It was as if he depended on her consistent
submissiveness as much as she depended on his control. It was wrong to suddenly
try to change the dynamic they had cultivated for the last five years.

Her shame at disappointing him was
a living thing that took hold of her and wouldn’t let go. Her body flagged as
her guilt became too heavy. Her knees collapsed slowly into his thighs and
passivity overcame her. Mason stilled.

He was breathing hard, a sheen of perspiration
working over his toned shoulders and chest. He looked at her and she was too
overcome with regret to meet his gaze.

“Liberty, look at me.” The command
in his tone was something that couldn’t be ignored. Her eyes met his as a lump
formed in her throat. He gazed down at her and frowned. “Stop. Whatever you’re
thinking, stop.”

Her lashes fluttered, fighting back
tears. She wanted to apologize for acting like a pushy brat, but if she uttered
one word she would cry. If she cried while he was making love to her he would
be repulsed and never want to touch her again. Her breathing trembled in her
chest as she tried to hold it together.

He caught a glimpse of her struggle
and quickly processed it. Something changed in his expression. There was a
sharpness, some keen awareness in his eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Arms above your head,” he
commanded. She did as he told her, not wanting to forget her place again. It
was a quick lesson, how wrong it felt for her to attempt to be the aggressor. It
spoiled any end rewards.

“I’m in charge,” he whispered with
undeniable authority.

Her pussy clenched. She loved when
he asserted his strength and power. Such a contrary desire to her once biggest
fears. Trust and love had a way of transforming frightening characteristics
into something altogether different. Every decision she made was controlled by
her compulsions to remain in control, but when it came to Mason, he had the
power to take away her control, demand her surrender in a way that quieted even
her greatest demons.

He was a man, her man, and he was
strong and kind, and fiercely protective of her just as she needed him to be.
When he did or said things that displayed the control he held over himself and
others it drove her wild. “I decide, Libby. That’s how it has to be. That’s how
you need it, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“Trust me to know what you need,
Liberty. Always trust me.” She nodded. “Good. Now open your legs for me.” Her
thighs slowly opened. “That’s my girl.”

Mason braced his strong arms beside
her shoulders and took one slow stroke deeper into her core. Liberty sighed in
much needed relief. He was physically negotiating with her, but also keenly
observing her, as if he knew her body and soul better than she knew herself.

She trusted that at the first sign
of discomfort he would retreat. Liberty was determined not to show weakness.
She was a woman in her own right. She may have quirks and needs that others
would never understand, but she was no weakling. Not when it came to giving her
man what he needed. Not when it came to surrendering her body to her husband.

He began to thrust slowly into her.
It was a display of such self-control, such self-discipline. Liberty couldn’t
help but admire him. It was a chore every minute of her life to keep herself
balanced and in check. But not Mason. Mason was always in complete control of
himself. Seeing him embrace his powerful husbandly rights was erotic and
immeasurably intoxicating.

“I’m going to go deeper, Liberty,
and you’re going to take it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you need to feel me in you?”

“Yes, Mason, please.”

“Then let me give you what you
need.” He thrust inside of her and her head reflexively fell back into the
bedding as a moan of fulfillment escaped from some deep hidden corner of her
being.

“Is this what you need?” He forced
himself deeper, stretching her sex and spreading her thighs with the breadth of
his hips.