Page 65 of My Wedding Night Massacre

“You are.” His thumbs move in slow circles. “Stop.”

I breathe out and let him look.

He lays me back on the bed, nudging my thighs apart, settling between them. His mouth finds the inside of my knee first, lips pressing warm against the skin there, traveling up my thigh, slow, his breath preceding his mouth, making me aware of every inch before he reaches it.

He gets to my inner thigh and stays there. Left side first, his lips dragging across the sensitive skin, then his teeth, a light press that makes me inhale sharply. Then the right side, the same patient attention, his hands spreading wide across the tops of my thighs, holding them open, holding me still. I’m already wet. I can feel it, the slick heat of me, and from the way he exhales against my skin, I know he can too.

When he finally puts his mouth on my pussy I stop breathing for a full second.

He works me with his tongue, no fingers, just his mouth, slow and thorough. He starts at the bottom, his tongue pressing flat against my hole, feeling the wet heat there, and I clench around nothing. He drags upward through my folds, parting them, tasting all of me on the way to my clit, and I grip the sheets in both fists. He does it again, slower, his tongue pressing harder this time, collecting every drop of how wet I am, making a low sound against my pussy that vibrates through my clit and down my thighs.

He gets to my clit and stops. Just the tip of his tongue, resting there, the lightest possible contact, enough to make me aware of exactly where his mouth is and nothing else. Then he circles it. Once, slowly, the full flat of his tongue dragging around it. My hips jerk. He does it again, the same circle, the same pressure, his hands pinning my thighs open so I can’t close them around his head, no matter how much I want to.

I press toward him. He eases back, just enough that I lose the contact, and I make a sound that has no dignity in it at all.

“Please,” I say.

He puts his tongue back and circles again, fuller this time, his lips closing slightly around my clit, not sucking, just holding it between them while his tongue works. I feel every nerve ending I have light up at once. My thighs shake against his hands. He releases, circles again, releases, and I’m pulling at the sheets hard enough that my knuckles ache.

“Slava.” His name comes out wrecked. “Stop teasing me.”

He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, harder this time, his tongue working fast circles while he holds the suction, and I stop being able to think about anything except his mouth. The orgasm slams into me without warning, my pussy clenching hard, my whole body locking up, and I come on his face, flooding his mouth, his chin, soaking him while he works me through every wave without lifting his mouth for a second.

He doesn’t stop when I finish. He loosens the suction, and licks long slow strokes through my folds, cleaning every drop of what I gave him, his tongue pressing into my hole to get all of it, unhurried, thorough, like he has nowhere else to be and nothing he’d rather be doing. I’m trembling, oversensitive, my thighs trying to close around his head, and he holds them open and keeps going, licking me clean with the focused attention he gives everything that matters to him.

He lifts his head when he’s done. His mouth is wet, his jaw is wet, and he looks up at me from between my thighs with an expression that makes my stomach drop.

“Good girl,” he says and moves up my body.

I get my hands on his chest, pushing. He reads it and goes, rolling onto his back. I get his underwear off, freeing his cock. It springs up thick and hard, already leaking a bead of cum at the tip. I wrap my hand around him before he’s finished settling, feeling the weight of him pulse against my palm. I stroke from base to head, slow, my thumb smearing the wetness at the crown in a slow circle. His breath hisses out through his nose.

I do it again. His jaw tightens, a tendon standing out in his neck.

I swing my leg over his thighs and lower my head.

I put my tongue on the slit first, pressing in, tasting the salt of him, feeling his cock twitch against my lips. I circle the crown slowly, my tongue tracing the ridge all the way around, my hand still working the base. He makes a low sound, and I feel it in my own cunt.

I take the tip into my mouth and suck, just the head, my cheeks hollowing, my tongue pressing flat against the underside. His cock swells slightly in my hand, harder than it was a second ago, another bead of cum pushing to the surface that I lick away before taking him deeper. His hand comes to my hair, fingers spreading wide, not pushing yet, just resting.

I work down his shaft slowly, my lips stretching around him, feeling every ridge, every vein against my tongue. Halfway down I pull back, dragging my teeth along the underside, the lightest possible pressure, and his hips jerk up before he catches himself.

I do it again. Slower. His thigh goes rigid under my hand.

I pull off completely and move lower, my tongue finding his balls, mouthing them softly before I take one into my mouth and suck. His exhale comes out jagged. I roll it against my tongue, then the other, my hand still working his cock in slow strokes, feeling him leak steadily against my palm. He’s fully hard now, thick enough that my fingers don’t quite meet around him, pulsing with his heartbeat.

I drag my tongue back up the underside of his shaft, base to tip, and take him into my mouth again. Deeper this time. I work down until I feel him hit the back of my throat and hold there, swallowing around him, feeling his cock twitch against my tongue.

His hand tightens in my hair.

I pull back for air and go again, taking him deeper, my throat opening around him. He pushes up at the same time, his hips rising off the mattress, driving himself into my throat, and I gag around him, eyes watering, my hands gripping his thighs. He pulls back immediately, but I follow him down, taking him deep again before he can apologize, swallowing around the head of his cock, feeling him swell even harder in my throat.

He makes a sound with no control at all.

I pull off slowly, one last drag of my tongue along the underside, saliva trailing from my lip to the tip of his cock. I look up at him from between his thighs, my eyes wet, my mouth swollen, and he looks back at me like I’ve ruined him completely.

“Come here,” he says, his voice wrecked beyond recovery.

His cock is slick, hard, and twitching slightly against his stomach. I move up his body, and he turns me before I’ve finished moving, his hands guiding me onto my knees, his body settling behind mine.