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A shudder spirals up my body. I can feel him in my throat; I’m not kidding. I make a sound between a sob and a moan, and his blue eyes grow so dark, it feels like I'm looking at an azure galaxy of stars. Sweat trails down the valley between my breasts.
I feel connected to him in a way I haven’t with anyone else, which makes sense. It’s a feeling I don’t have a name for, but I know it has changed me forever.
“You feel so good.” His throat moves as he swallows. It’s the only sign that perhaps, this is more than a carnal act for him too. And when he captures my mouth with his in a long deep kiss, I’m sure he feels this connection between us too.
Hope blooms in my chest. This is more than fucking... This is my husband making love to me, and he senses the enormity of the emotions that bind us. My heart feels as full as my pussy.
Without breaking the connection of our mouths, he pulls out, then thrusts into me again. My already sensitized channel seems to catch fire. The chafing of his thickness against my walls sends frissons of sensations dancing through my blood. Dragonflies flutter in my belly. Birds take flight in my chest. It’s overwhelming how every cell in my body has flowered and is reaching for the sun…
He picks up speed, and I throw my arms around his neck and hold on. Each time he rams into me, my body scoots up the bed. The frame slaps into the wall. He puts the strength of his entire body into the way he pistons into me. Over and over again.
And I love it. And want more of it.
I’ll never get enough of his fucking me. Never feel more complete than when he’s inside of me. Never feel more powerful than when he’s taking from me, and sating his need for me, and pushing me toward that distant place where everything is bright and gold and waiting for me.
Ohgod. Ohgod. Ohgod. I’m burning up. I’m on a spaceship headed from some distant planet. Sex with him is everything I hoped for, and more. Thank God, I waited for him. I’ll never feel this way with anyone. Never. Except with my husband.
His cock thickens further, and the next time he pushes into me, he hits a spot deep inside me that sends shocks of rapture dancing across my nerve-endings. I open my mouth to cry out, but no sound emerges. He seems to understand, though, for he wrenches my hand from his neck and slams it into the mattress. He twines his fingers with mine, and the connection, along with how he never breaks the connection between our eyes, awakens something in my soul.
I can’t come—not yet; not until he allows me to. He may not have stated it aloud, but his possession of my body demands I ask for his permission.
A warmth seeps into my blood, even as a part of me grows impatient. That darkness inside me ebbs and flows, then submits to him. I feel cherished because he owns my orgasms. I want him to own all of me.
I hold his gaze as I hover on the precipice... Waiting... Waiting…
And he understands without my saying a word, for he growls, "Come."
And that’s all it takes for the climax to crash into me. When I cry out, he places his mouth over mine, swallowing the sound. My orgasm splinters into a thousand stars, the kaleidoscope of colors ebbing and flowing. As they fade away, I’m dimly aware of him fucking me through the aftershocks before he shudders and yells out his own release.
I close my eyes and float away into the most dreamless sleep I've had in years.
I wake up in the early hours of the morning to find his face between my legs again. As he licks my cunt and sips at my pussy lips and laps at my clit, a honeyed thickness suffuses my senses and turns my brain cells to mush.
The dawn light turns the raven on his back into an ethereal bird of prey as his muscles ripple, or perhaps, that’s the imagination of my sleep-deprived, very lust-overwhelmed brain. With the last remnants of my coherent mind, I take in the bricks of muscles on his body, the sheen of sweat on his shoulders, the give of the planes on his back as he continues to eat me out. And when he slides two fingers inside my forbidden back hole, I instantly orgasm. My last recollection is of him climbing up my body and kissing me until everything fades to black.
When I wake up next, the sun is pouring through the windows, and I'm alone in the big bed. My shoulders slump. He left me alone on the first morning of starting our life together as husband and wife?
38
Vivian
I sit up and wince, but ignore it, my body on fire with the need to find my husband. My heart thumps with the irrational terror that he's left me. And then, there are the orgasms. Oh God, I need to see him. I need to feel his arms around me. I miss him so much. My feet don’t seem to touch the floor as I race to pick up the shirt he abandoned and shrug into it. I head to the bathroom, take care of my needs, then walk down the stairs.
In the light of day, the place seems bigger, but there’s also a warmth to it. The wooden floors, the thick area rugs, the deep sofas, the bookcases, the fireplace, the flowers in a vase on the table in the center of the foyer, which I missed completely yesterday. The flowers are fresh, and there’s no dust on any of the furniture. Which means, he has someone who comes in to take care of the house. I walk through the living room and toward the kitchen. The scent of coffee greets me. There’s the unmistakable sound of the news being read on the radio, and in front of the range stands Quentin.
He’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, and his torso is uncovered. Which means, the raven on his back is on full display in the sunlight which pours through the windows of the kitchen. It bathes him in a golden light and turns his shredded physique into that of a pagan king. The kind who’d throw you down and rut into you, fucking you without compunction. The kind who’d protect you and burn the world down for you.
As if he senses my thoughts, he turns and smiles at me over his shoulder. “Good morning,” he rumbles.
My pussy quivers. Is there a direct connection from his words to that part of me that makes me feel the need to run over to him and climb his beautiful body like a tree? I lock my fingers together and slide one foot over the other to stop myself from doing that. I settled for, “I missed you.”
His eyes flare. He scans my body, clothed in his shirt, and his features soften. “I missed you, too, baby.”
The tenderness in his voice lights a fresh trail of heat under my skin. I love his dominance, but I absolutely adore his ability to make me feel so cherished.
A sweep of his gaze down to my feet, and when he meets my gaze again, there’s a possessiveness in his, a glint of something feral and dark and wicked, which turns my pussy into a sodden mess. A nervous tension knots my belly. Why do I feel like I’m in the presence of a predator? If I show him the slightest sign of nervousness, I’m sure he’ll jump me, and I’m even more sure I’d enjoy that.
I swallow around the dry sensation in my throat and croak, “Did you sleep okay?”
