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“Bedroom, I think.” I pick her up and carry her honeymoon style towards my room, kicking open the doors. I drop her onto the bed and she bounces, laughing up at me and reaching down to take her heels off. “Leave them on,” I instruct her.
Her hand stills for a moment before she moves to take her dress off. “I better get this off,” she tells me, “before there’s none of it left to go home in.”
She eye fucks me, still in my jeans, t-shirt, and blazer, as she moves her index finger in a circular motion. “Off,” she dictates.
I start to laugh at how serious she is. “What? What’s so funny?” she says, but I hear the laugh in her voice.
“Evie, I think you’re forgetting a few things. You are not in charge here. You never have been, and you never will be. Maybe you need reminding of that fact.”
“No,” she pouts at me, “I really don’t.”
“Oh yeah, I think you do.” I grab for her ankles and spin her onto her front. “Lift that arse baby,” I tell her. “It really needs to be spanked a bit more.” I hit her on one cheek then the other, pushing my fingers deep into her pussy, checking how wet she is. Pulling her up a bit more so she’s on all fours, I widen her legs.
Oh man, what a sight. Pink pussy on show, glistening for me. I slap her pussy and she squawks. I do it again, noticing how wet she gets while I do. I lick at her from behind, running my tongue fully along her lips to her tight bud, rimming my tongue around her back hole. “I can’t wait to get in here,” I tell her as I push my fingers into her pussy, moving them forward onto her clit.
“How many orgasms do you want, E?” She doesn’t answer. She can’t. I’m pumping my fingers into her pussy, and she’s moving her hips side to side, her head down, moaning.
“Ten?” I ask.
“No, no, no,” she says.
“Huh. Ok, twenty. Driving a hard bargain baby. Maybe eighteen as a compromise—one for every year I haven’t been able to do this.” I lick and bite at a tattoo at the base of her spine as she clenches down and comes all over my hand.
As she collapses onto her front, I unclip her bra from the back. She doesn’t move. I shrug my jacket off and she moves her head at the sound, watching me over her shoulder as I pull my t-shirt over my head. Classic one-handed movie star move, gets ‘em every time.
She gifts me a lazy smile. Gotcha. She’s staring at my tats and body, her mouth agape. She swallows, still taking me in.
Suddenly, she spins onto her side, totally naked apart from the shoes, and rests her head on one hand while her other hand lazily drapes over her hip. Apparently two can play at this game. Her voice is husky now. “Are the jeans coming off?”
“You bet. We are only just getting started.”
Her mask slips a bit and she looks at me with trepidation. “I haven’t had sex in ten months,” she whispers.
“I’ll be careful, I promise. You can dictate what we do. If you need to genuinely stop, not just saying stop, say the word.”
“What word? Not a safe word. It’s not 50 Shades of Grey, you know,” she huffs out.
I look at her and laugh. “Bridstones. Say that, and I’ll stop instantly. No games. Same goes for me. If you’re trying to kill me, again, I’ll say Bridstones and you stop.”
She’s laughing as she sits up and moves to the edge of the bed. Her breathing is evening out and her confidence is returning.
I stand in front of her, hands by my sides. “Take them off,” I order her softly, nodding down towards my jeans.
“You’re obsessed with those stones,” she tells me.
“Let’s say they made a lasting impression when you tried to drown me crossing them.” I feel like I’m drowning now in her eyes as she looks up at me through her lashes. There’s expectation there, maybe a bit of trepidation, but also so much strength and depth.
She unconsciously bites her lip as she moves her hands towards my jeans. Buttons pop on them, and she peels the fly apart. I feel like I’m going to burst. All the blood rushes to my cock, my brain is not fully functioning, my balls are tingling, and I groan as she brushes my cock while moving the fabric. My patience snaps and I push my boxers and jeans down.
She sits stock still on the bed staring at my dick. “Fuuuuuck,” she whispers, staring at the piercing. “Will that hurt me?” she asks as she brushes it gingerly with her fingers. My cock twitches, I’m sure it’s trying to jump into her hand.
“No, all for your pleasure, darlin’,” I say in my best American accent.
“I’m a bit scared,” she admits, literally gulping, looking at it, then up at me.
“Well, we’ll take it slow. The first time,” I tell her, grinning like an idiot.
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