AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"The number of times I’ve dreamed of having you here in my bed, tied to those rings, so you're spreadeagled, with your pussy bared for my ministrations, you have no idea.”
The pussy in question squeezes in on itself. Tingling sensations run up my spine. "I wish you weren’t so unfiltered in your words."
"When you’ve seen what I have, you learn to speak your mind."
I turn to him and find he has a pensive expression on his features.
"Was being at war difficult?" I hear my words and wince. What a stupid thing to ask. Like he's going to tell me, no, it was fun. Not to mention, it's not quite the conversation I envisioned on my wedding night—and with a plug up my butt—but the bleakness in his eyes hints at a vulnerable side of him. One I haven’t seen before, and I don’t want to miss this opportunity to find out more about my husband.
I’m sure he’s going to brush me off, but to my surprise, he answers me.
"Seeing friends blown to bits and being unable to do anything about it was."
I wait for him to say more, but he opts to walk past me and to the windows looking out. Of course, this must be a difficult topic for him. I don't want to push him; he can tell me when he's ready. His spine is stiff, his shoulder muscles bunched. There’s a sadness etched into every sharp angle of his body I didn’t notice before. He’s hidden it well… Until now.
I reach him and, sliding my arms about his waist, press my cheek into the firm wall of his back. Closing my eyes, I breathe in that pine and woodsmoke scent of his. He places his palm over mine.
For a few seconds, we stand there. I soak in the strength of his presence, the resilience of his muscles, the way I feel so delicate in comparison, the sheer security of being with him. Something coiled deep inside of me loosens.
When he turns and pinches my chin, I’m already rising on my tiptoes. He lowers his face and closes his lips over mine. His mouth is hard, but the kiss is tender.
I melt into him, and when he licks into the notch between my lips, I part them. He slips his tongue inside my mouth, and heat suffuses my lower body. My toes curl; my fingertips tremble. I dig them into his shoulders as he ravages my mouth.
The kiss seems to go on and on. Then suddenly, he wrenches his mouth from mine, sinks to his knees and, pushing up the skirt of my dress, he presses his nose into my pussy. He draws a deep breath, and I gasp.
Something warns me that if I follow his lead, it’s going to be a long time before I come to my senses again. This entire experience with Q has been intense. It’s making me feel emotions I haven’t felt before. I need time to process it. I need... just a moment to regroup. “The science of kissing is called philematology.” I burst out.
My stream of consciousness has the intended effect, for he freezes.
“Kissing can burn up to twenty-six calories per minute, depending on the intensity and duration,” I add.
He looks up at me from between my legs, and there’s something very erotic about seeing this powerful man on his knees with his fingers gripping the tops of my thighs. I snapshot the moment and store it away, sure it’s going to inspire a painting. I continue to scan his features, committing the expression in his eyes to memory.
“What is it?” His tone is tinged with impatience. “Do you want me to stop?"
I shake my head. “No, but I’m aware you’re deflecting.”
“Deflecting?” His features are devoid of emotion, but his eyes flash. “What do you mean?”
“You started telling me about your past, then stopped yourself. And now, you’re running away from your demons by focusing on giving me orgasms.”
“Damn right, I’m going to lose myself in your tight, hot cunt as a way to escape my memories.” Without taking his gaze from mine he licks up my pussy lips.
“Oh…” I breathe through the anticipation that bubbles up my throat.
His lips curl. ”You mean, 'Oh Q,' don’t you?” With that, he urges my legs further apart, then thrusts his tongue inside my weeping slit. My heart seems to drop to the space between my legs, until it feels like my entire body, my life, every part of me and all I am, is concentrated in that throbbing triangle of flesh. Then, he closes his mouth around my clit and sucks, and I cry out.
Quentin
Her cry arrows straight to my groin. All the blood has drained to my crotch. My cock is weeping to be let out of the constraints of my pants, but not yet.
First, I need to devour my wife’s sweet pussy. I lick up her slit, and she shudders. And when I stab my tongue inside her wet channel, she groans. "Q, please, please, please—" She bites off the next word, for I’ve shoved two fingers inside her cunt. "Quentin," she screams and writhes, and I weave my fingers in and out of her, in and out. She tugs at my hair, throws her head back and pants. And when I hit the button on the remote controlling her butt plug, her body jolts.
"Omigod, omigod," she pants and warbles.
When her legs tremble, I rise to my feet. Holding her upright with one hand on her shoulder, I turn her around and undo the buttons on her dress. It falls to her ankles in a pool of white. I pull out the pins in her hair and the blonde strands fall in a cloud of gold around her shoulders. I shrug out of my jacket, undo my bow tie and toss them both aside. Then I walk around in a slow circle surveying the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, the fleshy thighs which I can’t wait to mark, the wiry hair on her unshaven pussy lips, which I adore.
This is the first time I've seen her naked, and she is everything I imagined. And more. Without taking my gaze off that triangle of flesh between her legs, I undo the button of one shirt sleeve and roll it up to my elbows, then the other. Something prompts me to look up at her face. She’s staring at my forearms with something like fascination. I flex one, and she draws in a sharp breath.
