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"What better way to enjoy my wedding cake than by licking it off my wife’s pussy."
The flesh between my legs convulses, and my belly bottoms out. Those filthy words of his kindle fiery stings of delight through my blood. Goosebumps pepper my skin. He’s going to eat me out? He’s going to smear my wedding cake in between my legs and slurp it up with that wicked tongue of his?
"Raise your arms," he orders.
His bossy voice ignites a million little fires in my blood. As if he senses it, silver flames roar to life in his gaze.
But I’m not prepared for the alacrity with which he pulls off the shirt I’m wearing and flings it aside. I squeak. The air hits my breasts, and my nipples tighten into rigid points. He reaches out and tweaks one, and I whimper.
He glances down at my core. "Part your legs."
I do. The cake squishes and gives. The icing sticks to my skin. It’s soft and wet and cool and smushy… and strangely, erotic. A buzzing sensation permeates my skin. It’s exacerbated by the fact he’s staring down at my pussy.
He flattens a palm to the space between my breasts and applies pressure. I lay back, and when he balances the soles of my feet on the edge of the island, I feel dirty and exposed, and way more aroused than I should be.
It might have to do with the way his features flush, or the way his breath quickens and his nostrils flare. "Fuck, if you could see yourself, Raven. Those pink pussy lips covered with cake, and your swollen clit wearing a crown of cream—not even my most erotic dreams could compare to this."
He sinks to his knees, and when I try to squeeze my thighs together, he wraps his big palms around them, so I have no choice but to hold them apart.
He lifts his gaze to mine and, without breaking the connection, begins to lick the cream up the side of my inner thigh, then the other. I shudder, my bones turning to jelly. Each time he comes close to my pussy, only to move away, I whine. He laughs.
The vibrations travel up to the knot in my belly, which tightens. "Damn you, Q," I huff, then groan when he blows gently on my pussy. It sets off tiny sparks of lust though my body. I writhe and push up my pelvis, chasing his wicked tongue.
"What do you want, baby?"
"You know what I want."
"Say it aloud."
I open my mouth, but before I can speak, he drags his whiskered jaw up my inner thigh. Sweat breaks out on my brow. I slam my palm down onto the platform. "Ohmigod, please, please, Q."
"Please what?"
"Please eat me out, please put your tongue inside my?—"
I cry out as he licks up my pussy lips, then curls his tongue around my clit.
Also, did those filthy demands come out of my mouth? He’s changing me already. Turning me into a woman who revels in her need for the more explicit when it comes to sex with him. He attacks my flesh with gusto, and when I think I can’t bear it anymore, he stuffs his tongue inside the puckered hole between my ass cheeks.
"Quentin!" He’s done this before, and it still shocks me that it feels so good. I don’t think the innocent me from a month ago could have fathomed how erotic it is when he licks up the cleavage between my ass cheeks. And I like it. I like it so much. More than I want to admit. I want to hate how much I like it, especially since it’s a part of my body that should not be a source of such pleasure. But how can I, when it feels so good?
I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on the sensations. My pussy clenches down, and my toes curl. The vibrations race up my legs, coalescing in my center. "Oh God, I’m going to?—"
He removes his tongue. I sense him reaching over to grab the bottle of olive oil. He uncaps it and pours a thin stream between my arse cheeks. What the—? So that’s what he needed it for? He’s nothing, if not well-organized. I know what he’s going to do next, but I can’t stop the shudder when he returns. The next moment, something big and blunt nudges at my back hole. I crack open my eyelids to find him hovering over me. Sweat beads his shoulders, and his eyes are the pale blue of a chilled mountain stream.
He kicks his hips forward and slips past the ring of muscle. I open my mouth to cry out, but no sound emerges. He’s filling me up in a way nothing has done before. The burning sensation is half-pain, half-pleasure. It ebbs away to be replaced by something thick and dark, an edgy heaviness that tugs at my nerve-endings and stings my flesh. Yet, below that is a tightness which winds my body, squeezes down on my pussy, and turns my chest into a maelstrom of sensations I can’t quite comprehend. He pulls out of me, stays balanced on the rim for a second, then pushes in with enough force, the entire island seems to shudder. He bottoms out, touching that sensitive spot deep within me. It sets off reverberations that sweep up my body.
"Hold on," he growls.
I barely have the chance to register his words when he begins to fuck me in earnest. The sucking sound my body makes when he pulls out, followed by the slap of his balls against my butt as he pistons in, is a filthy, yet erotic, soundtrack. He holds my gaze, an order in his eyes to keep mine open. And I oblige.
I’m being consumed by him, surrounded by him, fucked by him. I feel like I’m losing myself and I'm unable to stop it.
"I want you to come as much as you can, show me how much you like it, like the good girl you are,” his words drive me over the edge. And when he brings his hand between us and pinches my clit, I instantly orgasm.
I hear someone screaming and realize it’s me. As my climax wracks my limbs, he pulls out. He squeezes his cock from base to tip, and with a groan, spills his cum across my breasts, stomach and pussy.
The sight of his fierce gaze, combined with his hoarse cry, is my last recollection before I give in to the darkness.
