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“Don’t you dare stop,” I begin, but he’s already pulled back. He sits back on his haunches, that monster cock of his jutting up against his stomach. It has to be painful to be this erect for so long, but you wouldn’t know judging at the look of satisfaction on his features.
“But you’re famished. Can’t have you weak with hunger, can I?”
“Come back here and finish what you started, asshole,” I hear myself and realize how exasperated, and needy, and desperate I sound, but I’m past caring. Somewhere along the way, I’ve forgotten I wanted to take a stance and not submit that easily. I want him to ignore my growling stomach and stick that big dick of his inside me and use me and take his pleasure and give me mine. I want him. “I want the orgasms you promised me,” I burst out.
“You mean, you want this?” He squeezes his cock from base to crown, then again. The veins up the side grow more pronounced. My mouth waters, while my slit already hurts.
“Yes, yes, I want it. Take me, Q. Fuck me. Make me come. Please,” I plead without taking my gaze off his weeping dick.
“And I want you to come, baby. And you will. I promise.” He rubs his thumb across the liquid which clings to the crown of his cock, then he reaches over and rubs it across my mouth. I lock my lips around his digit and wipe it clean.
His gaze intensifies. His shoulders bulge. He stares at me with so much desire, I’m confident he’s going to fuck me. Then he pulls back his hand and shakes his head. “Food. I need to feed you first.”
My pussy clenches; my back hole feels hollow. There’s a growing emptiness inside me. I scowl at him, exasperated that he’s taking this entire holding back the orgasm from me to the extreme.
At the same time, I find it even more arousing that he cares that I’m hungry—enough to pull back a second from penetrating me to get me food.
‘Course, it’s one way of making me wait further and driving me a little crazy with desire, but you have to give it to the man.
He knows this ‘being a Dom’ business really well.
He slides off the bed. "Don’t move." He points a finger at me.
"I couldn’t if I wanted to," I reply in a sulky voice.
He turns and stalks off, and once more, I see the tattoo of the raven on his back. The undulation of his muscles gives the illusion of the wind beneath the bird's wings. It’s magnificent and completely suited to him.
Minutes pass, and I wonder what he’s doing. I try to relax my muscles, but I’m too aroused. Then, there’s the fact my legs have been pulled apart and tied to the posts. It’s not uncomfortable, but it makes me very conscious of the fact that when he walks back into the room, the first thing he’s going to see is my exposed pussy. Which was probably his intention, the bastard. Why couldn’t he have made me come first? The minutes pass, and I must doze off, despite my very revealing position, for when I open my eyes, he’s standing at the foot of the bed.
He’s still naked, with his cock still standing to attention. If I was worried that my older husband would have trouble keeping it up, I needn't have. He has a tray on which there’s a plate with a sandwich, another plate with cake on it, as well as a bottle of wine with one glass. He climbs onto the bed, places the tray next to me, then assumes his position between my legs. Leaning over, he places the sandwich against my lips.
I take a bite. The zing of tomatoes, the sweeter taste of pickled relish and the briny undertone of something that resembles oysters and finally the buttery flavor of fries rounded off with the bite of vinegar and the crunch of pomegranate seeds, fills my palate. "What is this?" I moan.
"I call it the fuel-before-sex-with my-wife-sandwich."
A chuckle threatens, but I swallow it down.
"You’re definitely building up the sex part, but considering you haven’t fucked me… I’m wondering if you intend to consummate this marriage on our wedding night?” And when I hear my words I realize, this is it. All that tension boiling up inside me is going to get an outlet. My husband is going to make love to me very soon. My heart gallops in my ribcage. My mouth grows dry. Will it hurt when he penetrates me?
He promised it will, and to be honest, that scares me a little, but also fills me with a strange sense of anticipation. What does it say about me that it turns me on further to think of him impaling me with his massive cock? My thighs tremble. I swallow around the thickness in my throat.
He also promised he’ll bring me to orgasm. Not ashamed to say he’ll be my first. Will he know that he’s my first? I should tell him, right? And bring home our age-difference? Worse, it might make him decide he needs to go even slower and not fuck me today. No way. That’s not going to happen. I’m tired of waiting for my orgasm. Tired of waiting for him. I want to feel him inside me. I want him to fuck me today.
Some of my eagerness must show on my face, for a wicked gleam fills his eyes. Without responding, he feeds me a few more bites of the sandwich. When I tell him I’ve had enough, he finishes the rest in a few big bites. Watching his jaw move as he chews, then the column of his throat flex as he swallows it down, is more arousing than watching a live sex-show.
He pours some of the wine into a glass, then he takes a sip. Then he leans over me and dribbles some of it on my mouth. I lick it off, and when I open my mouth again, he trickles more of the liquid. Some of it spills onto my chin, then my neck. Each time the liquid threatens to spill onto the bed, he licks it off my body.
By the time we’re done with the glass, I’m wearing the wine on my mouth, my chin, my throat, my chest, and my breasts, where he sucked my nipples in between licking off the wine. Also, I’m so wet, I’m dripping.
"I’m going to spoil your bedspread," I moan.
"I won’t let that happen." He lowers his head and licks up the inside of first one thigh, then the other.
By the time he licks up my pussy lips, my body feels like it’s on fire. "Quentin, please," I moan.
In response, he slides off the bed and places the tray with the cake on the floor before he gets on the bed once again. With his head cushioned on my thigh, he trails his fingers around my clit. I’m so sensitive there, shockwaves radiate out from my point of contact. I grab at his head, my fingers slipping over the short hair on his scalp, and I end up holding onto his ears. "Oh, my God, that feels soo good.”
"It’s going to get better." He sets to work, licking and sucking with that sinful mouth of his, and when he adds his fingers inside my pussy and twists it, shockwaves cascade from my core.
