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And yet… I imagine living with this man… eating together, watching TV together… being a couple, in front of our friends and family. And sleeping beside him every night… making love with him whenever I feel like it…
And sex… oh God, what about sex? It’s not going to be complicated. I won’t have to find ways to dominate him to turn him on. It’s going to be pure and sweet and lava hot.
At that moment, he tugs me down the bed, takes my hands, and pins them above my head, and I laugh.
“What’s so amusing?” he asks, looking down at me.
“I was thinking I probably won’t have to dominate you to turn you on.”
“Yeah,” he says with a laugh, “never gonna happen. You’d better get used to that.”
“You don’t fancy being a sub?”
“Nope.” He kisses down my arm, along the sensitive skin from my elbow to my armpit, then licks all the way up it.
“Jesus, Henry! Gross.”
“I am gross. I am disgusting and perverted. I am going to lick every inch of your skin, and taste your sweat, and stick my tongue in all the darkest places of your body.”
“Oh my God.”
“There’s not going to be a single piece of you that I won’t explore, so I hope you’re prepared, my beautiful Hinemoa.” He lifts up to look at me again. “You want out?”
I shake my head.
He lifts an eyebrow. “You’re going to be permanently exhausted.”
“Don’t care.”
“You’ll have to be buried in a Y-shaped coffin.”
That makes me laugh. “Bring it on.”
He smiles. “I’m so incredibly happy right now.”
“How drunk are you?”
“Just the right amount.” He begins to kiss down my body. “I need to taste that sweet body.”
“Okay, but I don’t need a running commentary.”
“Oh I’m definitely going to give you a running commentary. I am now kissing your beautiful breasts.” He presses his lips across them. “Now I’m going to suck those soft nipples, and you’re going to moan.” He takes one in his mouth and fulfills his promise, and, despite my indignation, a quiet moan escapes me.
“Perfect,” he says. “Now I’m going to kiss over your soft belly and down to your amazing pussy.”
“Argh, don’t call it that.”
“My sweet, sweet kitty.” He hooks his fingers into my thong. “Hardly worth it,” he mumbles, sliding it down my legs and over my feet. He presses his nose to it and inhales, his eyes meeting mine.
“Henry!”
Still holding it, he moves between my legs and pushes up my knees. “Look at you, all swollen and glistening for me.”
“Oh my God.”
“Beautiful, moist, and juicy. Like fucking nectar.” He lowers the thong between my legs. Then, to my shock, he presses it against my entrance and, very, very slowly, pushes the material into me.
I gasp. “Henry!”
