Page 47 of The Unwanted Wife

24

Nathan

She opens her mouth without hesitation, and that's what tips me over the edge. The fact she has her lips in an 'O', and when I touch my batter-soaked finger to her tongue, she closes them around my digit and sucks on it, and I can feel that suction all the way to the crown of my cock. I'm so hard, my pants feel like they’re about to split at the crotch. She swipes her tongue up my fingernail, and all the blood drains to my groin. She releases my finger with a plop, then licks her lower lip, and my vision tunnels. All of my senses home in on her. I reach around her, take handfuls of her ample butt, and she gasps.

"Nate," she breathes, then yelps when I haul her up. She locks her ankles around my waist, her pupils, so blown, I can see myself on the black surface.

"I’m heavy," she protests.

"How many times do I have to tell you, you’re fucking perfect."

The color of her cheeks deepens, and her lips tremble, and I can tell it’s because she’s trying to stifle a smile. She’s pleased by my words. And if I could, I’d spend every single second of my life making her smile. I’ll have to settle for showing her how good it’s going to be when I fuck her.

With the bowl of that delicious-smelling mixture—what’s in it, anyway? —between us, I take a few steps forward and place her on the countertop. Then, I take the bowl from her, place it to the side, and step between her thighs. She’s forced to push her legs apart, and her dress rides up. She begins to pull at it, in a bid to cover herself. That is, until I glare at her.

She stops shuffling and locks her fingers together. "What are you doing?" she asks in a breathless tone.

"Looking at what’s mine." I take her left hand in mine, rub my finger across the ring—my ring—that she’s wearing. I bring her hand to my mouth, kiss the ring, then in a quick move, twist her hand behind her back.

"Oh." Her cheeks grow even pinker, the blush extending down her neck to the tops of her breasts.

"If I were a better man, I’d apologize in advance.”

"For what?" She frowns.

"For this." I hook a finger in the 'V' of her neckline and tug with enough force the cloth tears down the center.

"Oh, Breaking Bad!" she yells.

I laugh. I can’t help it. "Only you would use a show about a meth cooking professor as an expletive."

"It does the job, doesn’t it? Also, I happen to love this dress."

"I love what’s inside it more." I stare at her breasts spilling out of her bra, and I swear, I almost come in my pants. I reach for the nipple that is outlined against a bra-cup, and when she tries to stop me, I twist her other arm behind her and shackle both wrists together. The result: she’s forced to thrust out her chest. All the more for me to play with. I pull down her bra-cups. As I stare at first, one berry-colored nipple, then the other, they tighten into little buds of tasty morsels. I scoop up some of the batter from the bowl, dab it on both nipples, then lean down and bite on one.

"Oh, Sopranos," she groans.

"I must not be doing my job very well, if you’re still talking." I lave on the nipple, then kiss my way to her other breast and suck the other nipple, while weighing the first with my free hand. And when I pinch her nipple, her entire body jolts. She throws her head back and cries out, but I don’t let up. I twist her nipple, while nibbling on the other one, then push my palm into the center of her chest.

I straighten, stare into her eyes and apply gentle pressure. I release her arms, ease her back, then grab the pair of scissors nearby. I bring it down to her hem and cut up the length of her skirt. The fabric falls to each side of her thighs with a soft swish. I look down at the dark curls shadowed through the crotch of her panties. Her very wet panties. Seems my touching her has turned her on. Good.

I allow myself a small smile. Then, because I can’t stop myself, I slide the scissors under the waistband of her panties and cut through it on either side of her crotch. When I’m done, I place the scissors aside, then flick back the cloth. Her pussy lips gleam back at me. "Fuck," I growl, then lower myself to my knees. I throw a leg of hers over each of my shoulders, then pull open her pussy lips with my fingers.

"Nate," she exclaims, then cries out when I lick her from back hole to clit. The taste of her is like honey and cardamom and everything that warms my soul. I circle her clit with my tongue, and she squeezes her thighs around my face. I can barely breathe, but that’s okay. If I were to die right now, I’d be fine, as long as my breath was stolen by the pressure of her flesh against mine. I stab my tongue inside her slit, and a whine slips from her lips. And when I flick my tongue in and out of her, in a parody of how I want to fuck her with my cock, she digs her fingers into my hair and tugs with such force, I can feel it all the way to my toes.

My cock weeps, my balls groan, and I can’t stop the rumble of satisfaction that vibrates up my chest as I continue to fuck her with my tongue as she pushes her hips forward and rides my face, as I slide a finger between the cleavage of her butt cheeks to touch her forbidden hole. She freezes. When I play with her rosette, a trembling grips her. Incoherent sounds come from her mouth, and when I stuff my tongue inside her wet channel, and grind my palm against her clit, while inching my finger inside her forbidden hole, she climaxes. Her entire body jolts. A keening cry emerges from her lips, her thighs tremble about my ears and moisture hits the inside of my mouth. I swallow greedily. What the—did she just?—?

25

Skylar

"Did you squirt me?"

I hear his voice as if from far away, try to open my mouth to answer, but all that comes out is a purr. Heat flushes my cheeks. I try to understand the question but lose the battle against the contentment that pervades every part of my body. I float down from the climax that thundered against me with the force of a deluge. Aftershocks undulate my body like the wake of a ferry. I’m aware of wetness between my legs. Sweat beads my forehead, my neck, and pools under my armpits. I sense him straighten, then heat envelops my front. When I open my eyes, I’m not surprised to find his face is above mine.

"You squirted me." It’s not a question this time. "Who’d have thought, hmm?"

I blush to the roots of my hair. When I begin to look away, he shakes his head. "Don’t hide. That was a compliment."

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