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"I like what you're wearing." I slid one strap of her satin negligee down her shoulder and kissed the caramel skin there.Vanilla!
Her nipples puckered against the satin, and her breathing was ragged. I hadn't touched her yet, and she was already aroused. No matter if Moreau put a gun to my head for us to marry,thiswas something else—beyond any desire I'd experienced before.
I raised my head when she moaned and cupped a breast.
I put my free hand at the nape of her neck and drew her close. I wanted to kiss her slow and languid, but as soon as we got close, she slammed her mouth on mine like she'd been waiting for this, just as I had. Our kiss was hungry—she wanted to devour me with her with every lick, bite, and stroke of the tongue. She needed this. But so did I when I'd never neededanything. Sex was entertainment. It wasn't thismadness, thisneed.
She fit her mouth to mine and sucked at my bottom lip. I opened my mouth to let her in and angled her head so she could go deeper, so I could feel her all the way to…to where you, asshole?
My heart?
I raised my head, fear lancing through me. What was I feeling?
But then she smiled at me, and I forgot the fear, the concern, and my emotions and just ravaged her mouth. The kiss was endless, wet, and long.
I slid her negligee off her body and cupped her ass so I could rub myself against her. Her hands went underneath the elastic of my sweats, kneading my flesh.
I'd noticed it that first time when she bled for me; that despite her inexperience, she was sensuous. Her hands were smooth, soft, supple, and strong.
I pressed my hips against her and walked her to the rose-petal-covered bed. "Lie down," I murmured.
She did but raised herself on her elbows to look at me. She licked her lips as if waiting for me to undress. I removed my t-shirt and then pushed my sweats down. Her eyes widened at my erection, and then her mouth opened in a gasp when I stroked myself, tugged hard, and felt the forerunner of release burgeon inside me.
"You want me,ma douce," I teased.
She nodded.
"Then lie-down and spread your legs so I can show you how much I wantyou. How much I've missed that sugary sweet pussy of yours."
I saw the apprehension in her eyes. She swallowed, nervous. I softened my glance. "Allez, bébé, fais ce que je dis." Come on, baby, do as I say.
She whimpered and lay down, her head touching the mattress. She looked like a fucking fertility Goddess with the small bump on her stomach; and her skin caramel against the red rose petals and white sheets.
She tentatively opened her thighs, and I groaned because she was wet. Her pussy was bare. She had it bare last time as well. I usually didn't give a shit about hairless or hairy pussy—I liked it all, but her untouched lips were fucking gorgeous.
I crawled between her legs. I looked at her stomach, touched it and then kissed it, over and over. "Our baby is here," I murmured, running a hand over her belly.
"Oui." Her voice was full of joy.
"You want my baby?" I asked tentatively. Did she? She didn't even know me, and here she was, pregnant. Fucking hell! I was going to have a fucking baby.
Get a grip, Duncan! Now's not the time to freak out. She needs you to make it good on her wedding night, and she deserves that.
"Yes, very much," she whispered and put a hand on my cheek. "You?"
Until that moment, I had been ambivalent, but as soon as she asked the question, I knew. So, I gave her the truth, "Very much."
I kissed her belly again, and her stomach quivered. "Will I hurt you if I fuck you hard?"
I felt her response to my words as a shiver ran through her.
My vanilla wife likes it when I talk dirty! So, maybe she's not as vanilla as I thought.
"Non." Her voice was think and it seemed to require effort. "The doctor said it should be okay."
"Good." I slid my hands to her ass, and her hips shimmied in response. "Because I'm going to fuck you hard tonight."And every night because you're my wife, and it's my fucking right!
I raised her slightly and, without warning, planted my mouth on her pussy. I remembered her taste, and it made me harder, though I had no idea how. I wanted to be inside her so fucking badly. If she was an escort, I'd do just that—but this was my wife, sweet, sweet Elsa, who cooked me dinner and smiled that big fucking blinding smile of hers at me. I wanted her to come again and again before I found my release. My orgasm had never been on the back burner for me—but withher,it was, and I knew I'dthink about it later on, it would freak me out. But not right now when I could smell her, taste her, feel her.
