Page 57 of While You Sleep

“You take care of everyone, Cillian, and never ask for anything in return,” I said.

His muscled body tensed, stilling completely.

I gripped the top of his pants and yanked. He lifted his hips automatically, and I slid them down a little so I had better access. “You know, I’ve never done this before, not with anyone.”

His eyes flared. “Sophia,” he said roughly, but that was it, that was all. Just my name, but there was confusion, conflict in his eyes.

“I know this isn’t a first for you, not the physical act, but you need to know that I don’t want or expect anything in return. You don’t need to make me come afterward, I don’t want gifts or credit cards or furniture.” He sat like stone in front of me, gaze going blank, a look of retreat filling his eyes. I got the feeling he was so out of his element right now, he didn’t know what to do or say. So I ignored that look in his eyes and curled my fingers around his brutally hard length through the fabric of his briefs. He hissed. “You took care of me last night, Cillian. You’ve been taking care of me since you hijacked my wedding, and now I want to take care of you.”

He gripped the arms of his chair tight, a wariness in his eyes that I felt in the center of my chest, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “And how are you going to do that, pet?”

“Watch and see,” I whispered.

Chapter Eighteen

Cillian

Sophia ran her hand up and down the length of my cock, her wide blue eyes on me. I couldn’t fucking look away. Somehow, this perfect, innocent, sweet girl saw me in a way no one else ever had. I wasn’t sure that version of me existed anywhere else but in her eyes, but seeing it reflected back at me was…mesmerizing. I wanted to be that man, the one she saw—and I’d do anything to make sure she believed it was true.

You kill people…and I…I want you anyway. I want you and I shouldn’t, should I?

Then again, maybe she saw more of the real me than I realized, and that fear, that doubt worried me.

Her hand shook a little as she tugged down the front of my boxer briefs. I helped her, tucking the fabric under my balls, out of the way, curious to see what she’d do next. As she stared at my cock, she licked her lips, and I swear I felt it against the already swollen head.

“You’re beautiful, Cillian, everywhere,” she said in that soft fucking voice that sent tingles across my shoulders and down my arms, while she blushed for me prettily. “I never thought a…a cock could be beautiful, but yours is. It’s so long and thick, and the skin’s so…god, so soft.”

I’d had women try to flatter me when they got on their knees, telling me how big I was. I’d ignored it. It was just noise before I got off. But this was different, it felt different. Soph wasn’t trying to flatter me, not really, she was trying to be sincere, honest, and my cock jerked in her hand. I was desperate for what came next.

My sleeping beauty, my wife, had me in her fucking thrall. Someone could fire a bazooka through the living room windows and I’d stay right the hell here in this spot. She literally held me in the palm of her hand, in every sense of the word. I sucked in a sharp breath when she leaned over my lap and finally sucked the head of my cock into her hot mouth.

I gripped the arms of the chair tighter, barely stopping myself from lifting my hips and thrusting deeper. “Fuck.” Her mouth on me was torture. She wasn’t trying to tease or toy with me, but every tentative and unschooled lick and suck had me fighting back my need to fist her hair and fuck her face.

She looked up from what she was doing and swirled her tongue around the ridge, lapping at the slit like a lollipop, and my eyes almost rolled back into my head. Her gaze went to my mouth, watching as my breath hissed through my gritted teeth.

“Does that feel good?” she asked.

And fuck me, the tentative, unsure way she asked was like a fucking haymaker to the sternum. “Aye, pet, it feels really fucking good.” Her eyes brightened, and shit, there went another one of those right hooks to the chest.

“Tell me what you like, Cillian?” she asked, her voice a little stronger, her confidence growing.

I caught up her hair and twisted it in my fist, holding it back so I had a better view of my bride sucking cock for the first time. “Wrap your hands around the base and stroke while you suck,” I instructed, and there was no disguising the edge to my voice.

She nodded, smiling up at me, then did what I said. She gripped my length in both hands and started stroking in time with her mouth, sucking down as much of my cock as she could. She bumped the back of her throat and gagged, and my balls drew up tight.

I cupped her jaw. “That’s it. Take it. Take my cock. Show me what a good girl you are.” I fisted her hair tighter, and she moaned around me. I was already fighting not to come. Nothing had ever felt as good as my perfect wife sucking my cock for the first time. She sucked harder, and my ass left the seat, thrusting deeper into her mouth before I knew what I was doing. She gagged again, but she didn’t stop. No, she did it again, sucking me harder still, hungrily.

I tilted her head back, watching as she gave me everything she could, until tears ran down her face, her mouth stretched wide around me, her chin glistening with spit. She was sitting on her heels and squirming as she worked me faster.

“You love it, don’t you, Sophia? You love sucking your husband’s cock? Pussy’s dripping now, isn’t it, pet?” She hummed around me, nodding, her fingers digging into my thighs. “I wish you could see how perfect you look. So messy, so fucking beautiful.”

She said this was all about me, taking care of me, and looking at her now, I knew she meant it. She was fucking choking herself on my dick, working it like nothing else mattered. Like making me feel good was her entire world.

No one had ever given this to me, not like this. My balls throbbed and my cock fucking swelled. “Gonna come, pet,” I rasped, brushing her cheek with my thumb. I didn’t expect her to swallow, not this time, I expected her to pull back and work me with her hands until I was done, but she didn’t, no, she gripped me tighter and groaned around me, lapping and sucking the precome that was a constant stream now—then she sucked me so fucking deep, I knew she wasn’t going to pull back.

Fisting her hair so tight she couldn’t move, even if she wanted to now, I held her in place and thrust into her mouth, coming down her throat. She had me fucking spellbound as she swallowed urgently, not even trying to pull away as I flooded her mouth with come.

When she’d swallowed every last drop, she released me, panting. Her lips were swollen and red, her cheeks and chin glistening. Without a word, I tucked myself back in, then hooked her under the arms, lifting her off the floor, and stood, carrying her to the couch against the wall. She said she didn’t expect anything in return, but not making her come, not making her scream my name after that was fucking sacrilege. Making her feel good made me feel good.

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