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He peers up at me. “Of course you do.”
“I’ll take you anywhere in the world, Matthew.”
“You’re spoiling me,” he retorts and wraps his arms around me. My cock is painfully hard now, and I know he feels the state I’m in because he’s arching up into it, teasing me.
Love it when he does this. Love that he’s growing more confident and just takes what he wants.
“Want me to get you off?” he asks, his nose trailing along my cheek, inhaling me.
“Only if you ask nicely,” I counter, gasping softly when he nibbles at my earlobe.
He sighs, but does it anyways, making me preen at how good he is. “Please, Cooper, let me get you off.”
My lips turn into a grin as I thrust against him, loving the drag of my dick on his skin. A second later, Matthew is rolling me onto my back, his strong thighs straddling me. His limp cock is settled against his thigh as he grips my dick in his fist and starts to pump me.
My eyelids flutter closed, the feel of him on me too damn potent, but I force them back open. I want to watch him get me off. Love how serious he takes this, how deeply he concentrates on each stroke, wanting to always make it so good for me.
“Does it feel good?” he asks, and I nod, biting my bottom lip.
“Always feels so damn good.”
He grins down at me and then with his free hand, cradles my balls in his palm. He rolls them and I spread my legs wider, wanting more. I’d love for him to stick his mouth on me, to suck on me timidly as I give him directions, but I won’t hold out hope. It’s a miracle he’s even doing this. When he first wrapped his fist around my cock, I thought I’d died.
I never expected it. I just figured the blow jobs would go unreciprocated.
But he insists on it. Every time.
And I’ll take anything I can get.
“Want me to get some lube?” he asks after a minute, and I shake my head, feeling flushed and needy.
“No, just spit on me.”
He watches me for a moment and then leans down, his mouth so close to my cock that I nearly explode right then. But I’m glad I don’t. I love watching as his mouth gathers saliva and then it spills from his lips and coats the tip of me.
I groan at the feel of it, watching as his thumb smears the wetness around my cock head.
This is what it would feel like to have his mouth take my cock. I imagine his lips spread wide around me, his cheeks flushed, his pupils eclipsing his irises. He’d be so beautiful with me inside of him.
“Fuck, yes,” I moan, arching up into his touch over and over. “Perfect, so perfect.”
He likes the praise, so I give it to him, feeling his fist tighten around me. He’s strong, methodical, and a moment later, I explode across his fingers, shuddering through another epic orgasm.
But I think it’s only because it’s him—my husband—that I react this way.
I don’t think another would suffice.
When my eyes flit to Matthew’s, I see him staring down at his messy fingers.
Oh hell, the curiosity I see in that gaze. I’ve caught him tasting me when he thinks I’m not looking. It makes me all sorts of crazy. To know that he’s so inquisitive, that he doesn’t find me repulsive.
But sadly, with me watching, he doesn’t lick, doesn’t taste. Instead, he wipes himself up and flops down next to me, his body pressing into mine.
“So, about this weekend. You don’t need to take me to Paris,” he says, his finger trailing over my stomach. “I can’t even imagine what that trip would add to what I owe you.”
My lips turn down. I’d completely forgotten about that damn tally. I stopped keeping track a while ago. Honestly, I never really cared in the first place. I’m just enjoying my time with him.
Enjoying being married to him.
