Owning Wednesday Read Online Free PDF Page B

stroked her hair, letting her calm herself. She shuddered as he traced the rising welts. He pulled her onto the bed then, and she lay on her stomach, but he stopped her and turned her over onto her back.
     
    Her eyes and cheeks were still wet with tears, and she winced as her tender ass came to rest against the sheet. He parted her legs and began to stroke the sensitive skin between her thighs, then her clit, eliciting hot little stings of craving. He slid his fingers over it with masterful dexterity. Her pussy was wet and burning hot, but she shivered as he looked down at her. Then he dipped his lips to her body, sucking on her clit and blazing a slow, deliberate trail across her slick folds with his tongue. The pleasure unhinged her, made it hard to think. She wanted to come, she wanted to wail, but she was unsure of what he wanted her to do. He had taken her this way, with his mouth, few enough times that she was at a loss.
     
    “Put your hands over your head, Wednesday. Leave them there.”
     
    She did as he said, and he wrapped his hands around her ass cheeks, pulling her closer. Then he lowered his mouth to her again. Hard and soft bites, and licks to soothe the ache away. Flowering sensation and building bliss. Her hips jerked of their own accord, inching forward as far as he would let them to greedily take the pleasure he gave. She made noises that embarrassed her. He was relentless, teasing her and bringing her to the edge again and again.
     
    Then he parted her legs even farther, almost past comfort. “Stay.”
     
    She stayed, a quivering pile of conquered, dazed girl. He looked down at her from beside the bed while he rolled on a condom, then he climbed between her legs. He gathered her in his arms, tender again. She was limp with pleasure, and he slid inside her with ease. She knew the feel of him inside her like a brand. She knew the hot, slick solidity of him by heart. She clenched at him with her pussy since she couldn’t touch him with her fingers. His rough, crisp chest hair slid across her breasts, and his breath whispered against her neck like a secret. He seemed to drive deeper, hotter. He stretched and used her, and her body responded, burning for him. He held her close and fucked her, body to body, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, and she thought she would just die. You have to remember, she thought. You have to remember this feeling of him inside. He had been the very first man inside her, and he had taken her just like this, close and slow, wrapped in his arms. It still felt like that first time, urgent yet restrained.
     
    They moved together there on her bed, his authority and her submission seeming to fall away, leaving only raw connection. Her breaths were his breaths, and his hands were her hands. His lips found hers, and he kissed her with passionate insistence. He tasted of her. She was falling apart, shaking, climbing to a terrifying apex. “Come, Wednesday,” he whispered against her lips. “I love how you look when you come.”
     
    She let go, gritting her teeth against the overpowering climax. She let it wash over her, clenching her fists and crying out as if it hurt. In some sense it did hurt. It hurt to realize she would never again feel this close to him. For a long time afterward he lay still on top of her, breathing in, breathing out. She counted time by the beats of his heart. Remember, remember. Remember his weight on you, the scent of him, the tickle of his chest hair, the brush of his breath against your ear.
     
    He finally rose and stood over her. “Kneel beside the bed,” he said, authoritative as always. She knelt, wrung-out and overwhelmed with emotion. He did not beckon her to remove and discard his condom but did it himself. Then he began to dress with a mechanical detachment. She watched as he buttoned his shirt, put on his pants and cashmere sweater. He adjusted his collar and reached down to buckle his belt. Just like that, his body was gone from her. He