Black Sheep

My hands are tied together behind my back. A dildo hums a gentle vibration in my pussy. I’m blindfolded, positioned on my knees, my face pressed by Eli’s hand into the mattress. I shudder as an ice cube trails a lazy path down the sweat misting my spine.

“I don’t hear you begging,” he says as the ice cube trails over my ass cheek and down the back of my thigh. It comes up again, passing through the arousal gathered on my folds, then down the other side. “Don’t you want to come, Mrs. Brooks-Kaplan?”

My heart grows so big with those words that it might burst through my bones. “Yes,” I whisper as the ice cube carves its tingling burn up my inner thigh, back to my pussy. “Please, Eli. I need you to fuck me.”

The ice cube circles my clit and I gasp. Eli leans over my back, his breath caressing my neck as he presses the cold block to my sensitive flesh. “Then you’d better start using the right word,” he says, his voice teasing in my ear.

I smile as he leans back, his free hand still pressing my face to the mattress. “I need you to make me come…husband.”Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

The hand leaves my face to trace a line down my body as the chip of ice swirls across my clit. “That’s a good girl, sweetheart,” Eli says as the intensity of the vibration in my pussy increases before he turns on the second dildo in my ass. The ice cube leaves my flesh and then its cool caress is back as he glides it over my clit with his tongue.

Eli grips my legs and worships my bud of nerves, the warmth of his tongue and the coldness of the ice mixing in sensations that push me toward the cliff edge of pleasure. The toys fill me with vibration and he starts to work the dildo in my pussy, pulling it out to the tip before pushing it back in. He builds a rhythm. A circle with his tongue. A swirl of ice. A pulse of the toy. And before long I’m crying out his name as he presses a frozen kiss to my clit and fucks me with the dildo, draining every second of my orgasm until I’m shaking on my knees.

When I’m still coming down from this latest round of honeymoon euphoria, Eli pulls off my blindfold and removes the dildo from my pussy. He doesn’t untie me, but flips me over onto my back, settling between my legs. He leans down and kisses me deeply, passing what’s left of the melted ice cube onto my tongue as he pushes his erection into my slick, hot sheath.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eli says as I crunch the ice with a devious smile, the taste of my arousal coloring my tastebuds with salt and sweetness. He pushes to the hilt of his erection, the toy in my ass sending vibration wrapping around the fullness of his cock. He takes a moment to settle into the pleasure before starting to slide in deep strokes. “How did I get so lucky to have the hottest wife on the planet?”

“I think it was the cherry tree that sealed the deal,” I reply with a grin. “That’s my favorite gift I’ve ever received.”

Eli brushes my hair from the sweat filming my forehead. A spark lights in his eyes. “Just wait until you see your wedding present.”

My smile grows wide and I curl one leg around Eli’s back. He moans and I lock the other in place, the fullness of Eli’s cock and the vibrating toy hurtling me toward another orgasm. “A wedding present,” my breathless whisper repeats as he starts to pick up a punishing pace. “I thought being fucked senseless was my wedding present.”

“Only part of it,” he grits out, and then the beast in him takes over, railing me with hard thrusts. He bites my shoulder and sucks on my neck as he pounds his cock into my pussy until I’m screaming his name into the palm he folds over my mouth. I come undone in an explosion of stars, clenching around Eli’s erection as he spills into me with a growl.

We’re both unable to move for a long moment as we recover in the humid jungle air, a fan slowly circling above us while failing completely at making us any cooler. When our chests aren’t heaving for breath, Eli slips out of me and carefully removes the toy before untying my bound wrists, kissing their delicate skin. “Come on,” he says, holding out a hand. “We have to get going. I don’t want you to miss your present.”

Eli leads me to the shower where we stand together in the cool water and he takes the time to wash my hair, massaging my scalp. Then we pack up our bags and grab a breakfast of fruit and cheese downstairs before we check out. I haven’t used my picker app once during our three weeks of travel, and I’m not sure I will when we eventually get home.

I watch Eli in the lobby as he pays for our room as I think back to that first time I saw him up close in the coffee shop. It’s so hard to believe it wasn’t even a year ago. I guess to some people looking at us from the outside, our evolution to this point must seem pretty fast. But when he asked me to marry him shortly after Samuel passed away, there was no reason to wait. Not after everything we’ve been through. Since he was going on sabbatical and I felt like I needed some time off from my research, the timing felt just right. Unsurprisingly, it’s pretty easy to get approval for a twelve-month deferment when everyone believes you survived a kidnapping and attempted murder. So after our elopement on a beach in Costa Rica, we’ve made our way into Panama and now Colombia on our trail motorcycles, living a new adventure.

When Eli has finished paying, we check the bikes over and pull on our helmets, Eli reeling me in for a kiss like he does before every ride. “I love you, Pancake. Ride safe.”

“I love you too,” I say, and then we’re off.

I follow Eli on the roads, weaving past the occasional vehicle as we head through dense forests and patches of cleared farm lands. After a couple of hours and a few top-ups of gas, Eli motions for us to turn onto a dirt road that seems more like a rarely used trail. We stop for a moment without turning off our bikes as he brings up his GPS, waving it around without actually showing it to me. “Won’t be long, Pancake,” he says with a grin.

I nod and we set off, riding for nearly an hour over the challenging terrain. It’s a constant dodge of puddles and potholes, and I’m starting to feel the soreness creep into my leg when Eli pulls over and cuts his engine. I follow suit, grateful for the break but excited about whatever he’s got planned.

“Feeling okay?” Eli asks as he walks over and squats next to my bike, taking my lower leg in his hand. He rubs gently, warming my scar through the denim.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He nods toward a narrow footpath behind him that cuts into the woods. “You’re okay for a bit of a hike?”

“It’ll do it some good,” I say with a nod, and Eli beams a smile at me in reply.

“Good. Come on.”

I get off the motorcycle and follow Eli into the thick jungle. The path seems to be used frequently as it’s well-worn and there are no obstructions. It heads up a gentle incline and then veers to the right, and we follow it until we reach bifurcation, taking a lesser-used trail on the left. We hike in silence and I spend most of the time cycling through all the ideas of what this present could be. Some kind of waterfall, maybe, or an animal that frequents the trails. I’m thinking about jaguars when we reach a rise that seems to open beyond a rocky outcrop and Eli turns abruptly before I can see what’s on the other side.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, grasping my upper-arms. “I know we agreed a while ago to no secrets, et cetera, but I had to keep this one under wraps so I could surprise you.”

“Okay…”

“And if you don’t want this present, that’s totally fine. We can turn around and just continue on to Paramillo, or maybe head up the coast to Rosario and San Bernardo.”

“Okay…”

“So just…yeah…” Eli trails off and an excited grin brings his dimple to life. “Just…see for yourself and you decide. No pressure, okay?”

My eyes narrow with confusion. “O…kay…”

Eli’s smile widens and he passes me a set of binoculars before taking my hand and leading me to the rocky outcrop.

When we get to the top, the space beyond widens to display a valley and a river. And along the river’s edge, a small community of ramshackle buildings that look cobbled together from scavenged supplies, people toiling in a garden that stretches along its perimeter.

“Look there,” Eli says, lowering his binoculars to point toward the largest of the structures. From this distance, I can see a man descending its uneven steps.

I raise the binoculars and gasp.

Donald Soversky.

A chill tingles in my limbs and races all the way to my fingertips as I smack my hand on the rock. “No fucking way,” I whisper.

“Yes fucking way.”

I watch as Soversky makes his way over to the garden, the gait of his stride still so familiar after all these years. “How did you do this?” I ask, unable to take my eyes from Soversky.

“Samuel and I worked it out before he passed. It took a while as Soversky seems to move around fairly frequently. There are whispers that he’s getting ready to move again. Maybe he thinks the devil’s still at his back.”

I lower my binoculars to beam a wide smile at Eli. “Maybe she is.”

“You like your present?”

“I love it.”

“Better than the tree?”

“Yeah,” I reply, glancing through the binoculars once more. “Better than the tree.”

“Then here,” Eli says, nudging my elbow. He passes me a small black bag. “You’ll need this.”

I unknot the drawstrings and pull the garrote from the bag. I stare down at it in disbelief before clutching it to my chest. “Seriously?”

“Samuel had said it was your favorite.”

My heart erupts with excitement and gratitude. I barrel into Eli, wrapping him in a tight hug. “This is amazing, Eli. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now go—the path down to the village is at the turn where we went left. Just go as though heading to the right instead. Take this,” he says, passing me a second GPS device.

We watch one another for a long moment before I press my lips to Eli’s in a searing kiss. I love this man. I love him more completely than I thought possible. And every day, it only grows.

When we part, Eli takes off his pack and sits on one of the rocks, pulling out his lunch and a book. “I’ll be here…not watching.”

We exchange a dark smile and then I turn away, striding down the path, a walk that becomes a jog.

The Devil’s daughter is at your back, Donald. And she’ll send you straight to hell.