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was that I couldn’t climb it on my own. And so we’d been on opposite sides of the wall, him growing more frustrated and desperate, me retreating into myself.
    As he continued fucking my mouth, growling things to me— it feels so good and deeper, I need deeper —and my pussy grew wetter and needier, I thought about how unique this situation must be. Most women, I supposed, needed precisely the tender attentions that Julian had tried to give me after George’s birth. But I wasn’t most women. I’d needed this , I’d needed last night. I’d needed to feel his discipline raining down on my ass in a series of sharp, stinging blows.
    I moaned again, remembering the spanking last night, and the vibrations from my throat made Julian moan too. He pulled out, his dick glistening. “Lie down,” he said hoarsely, and I did, my throat catching at the hungry way he got to his knees and dove for my skirts, clawing and pulling until his mouth pressed against my pussy in a searing kiss.
    “Oh God,” I panted, falling back, my legs falling open in a rustle of silk and lace. “Julian, if you don’t stop, I’m going to—oh—please—”
    He growled against my pussy, and I squirmed, panting, moaning, the sensation after so many days of deprivation too overwhelming to process. I could feel it, a tightening in my core, a cramping in my inner thighs, a quivering, poised thing ready to careen over the edge. And just as I felt it start to abandon itself to gravity and fall, he raised up, the monster, and wiped his mouth, and the climax hovered just out of reach.
    I whimpered. He grinned.
    There was no shirt, no tie, to grab on to, so I reached up and dug my nails into his arms, trying to pull him down to finish the job, and when he wouldn’t, I scratched my nails down his bare stomach as hard as I could. He hissed, the grin was gone, and then, without warning, he was on top of me, crushing me, his hand pinning my wrists above my head while his other hand was under my skirts, holding himself, positioning himself, and then there was the perfect, heavenly, sublime truth of his rigid dick filling me, claiming what belonged to him.
    The minute he slammed into me, my back arched off the floor and I cried out into the twilight sky, and then I bit his shoulder to stifle the rest of my cries, not wanting the whole village to hear us. My teeth sent Julian into a frenzy, and he pounded into me with a ruthless cruelty that dragged my orgasm back to the edge, all the stronger for the serrated lines of pain that came along with it.
    “Oh, I’ve missed this cunt,” he grunted, his hips flexing hard and fast between my legs. “I’ve missed making it come.”
    I could barely breathe—each breath was driven out by the relentless stabbing of his cock as soon as it was drawn—and every muscle in my body was twined so tightly that I thought I would slice clean through myself with my own orgasm, and then he moved up my body just a few inches, just enough that his pubic bone ground against my clit with each thrust, and that was it. I came. I came with four months of listlessness and isolation behind it, with four months of tame, tender sex, and the brutal weight of him against my clit and the furious fucking he was giving my pussy washed it all away, until I was lost to myself, lost to the world, lost to everything except his cock filling me and the clenching, cramping waves of pleasure that it gave me. My climax ripped up through my chest and down to my toes, over and over again, and still he kept fucking me, fucking me right into my second orgasm.
    “I’m going to come so hard,” he grunted. “God, I can feel it. I wanted to come on your face, but I have to come in this perfect pussy, I have to, because you feel so fucking good.”
    His words sent me over the edge again.
    He groaned as my body seized and shuddered around him for the second time, and then he thrust in so hard that my toes curled, and stayed there, swearing violently as he