Free Owning Wednesday by Annabel Joseph

open with his powerful thighs. He lay on top of her and pulled her hard against him, skin to skin.
     
    “I’ve got you, Wednesday. Don’t I?”
     
    “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
     
    His body fit against hers like a puzzle piece. She basked in the feel of his hard muscles, his rough chest hair against her nipples. She scratched at his back and his taut buttocks, digging her nails into the landscape of his body. He growled against the side of her neck.
     
    “Behave. Be patient. You’ll get it. I know this isn’t how you were taught.”
     
    She stilled at those words. No, this wasn’t at all what he’d taught her. This was something else altogether. Daniel’s lovemaking was so different from what she’d experienced with Vincent. Daniel made her feel like she was floating, even when he was holding her down. He made her whole body vibrate from the confidence of his touch.
     
    Daniel parted her legs wide, lifted her hips, and plunged inside. She squeezed him tight, her nerves singing from the bliss of his cock stretching her. He fucked her, pressing down against her so she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move without his yielding space and breath to her. Each time he moved inside her, she felt a strong sensation of being one with another person. With him . It amazed and terrified her, and she tried to shrink away.
     
    “No,” he said in her ear. “Don’t.”
     
    She clung to him, pressing so close that she felt his pubic bone rubbing against her clit. It was a hard, stimulating resonance against her softness. He took without apology, but he brought her with him, urging her to active participation in their dance. It scared her, the impulses and desires he elicited in her. It scared her how hot he made her burn.
     
    “Daniel, Daniel, I need…” What did she need? With Vincent, it had never been about her.
     
    “What?” he asked. “What is it?”
     
    “Daniel, can I come now, please? Am I allowed?”
     
    He chuckled. “With or without my permission, I think you will.”
     
    He was right—either way it was going to happen. She would take a hundred lashes to feel the pleasure he was giving her now, to give in to the climax that was threatening to overwhelm her.
     
    “Come,” he said, “and do it like you mean it.”
     
    She came a moment later, with stars behind her eyelids and her blood beating in her ears. Each pulse and undulation of her climax seemed to take her whole body and shake it loose. Loose from fear. Loose from emptiness. When she regained her senses, he was looking down at her strangely, and she realized she was crying. Not a tear or two from the power of the orgasm. No, she was sobbing. She put her hands to her cheeks, and they came away soaked with tears. She stared at them, stupefied.
     
    “I don’t know—I don’t know why…”
     
    “It’s okay.”
     
    The tears weren’t stopping. She closed her eyes, embarrassed.
     
    “No, open,” he said in a low voice.
     
    She opened them and shook her head. “I can’t explain—”
     
    “That’s okay. You don’t have to. I want you to look at me though, to see me. To know that I’m the one who moved you this way.”
     
    It was almost painfully difficult for her, but she kept her eyes on his as he wished.
     
    He tilted his head. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”
     
    No. It’s just that I’ve never felt this way before . Her breath caught, and he rolled away.
     
    “I suppose you could use some air.”
     
    He didn’t leave her, only lay beside her with his arm across her waist. He was so possessive. She both loved it and hated it. She was relieved to have his weight off her, but also anxious to have it back. He gave a contented sigh, turning onto his back.
     
    “I really enjoy fucking you, Wednesday. I really do.”
     
    She was silent. To her, what he’d done was more than fucking. It was ecstasy. Ruin.
     
    “Maybe,” he said, looking over at her with a thoughtful expression, “maybe I’ll fall in love