Page 71 of The Unwanted Wife

"Hmph." She flattens her palm over my chest, and I can feel the bam-bam-bam of my heart against it.

"Again, you have every right to say no, and?—"

"That’s so not fair."

"What’s not fair?"

"You give me the choice, and that puts the onus on me, and it makes it very difficult for me to refuse, thanks to the FOMO I have around this."

"You’re saying I shouldn’t give you the choice?"

She blinks slowly. "I’m not sure."

"There’s no shame in that. If you’d prefer for me to decide what’s best for you and make decisions for you?—"

"Wouldn’t that be handing over all the power to you?"

"On the contrary, you hold the power. I’ll do all the hard work. I’ll interpret your needs and do everything in my power to satisfy you and make you feel good, and anytime you feel it’s not working out, you just have to say stop."

"So you say."

"I mean it." I release my hold on her neck to hold up my hand. "Promise."

She looks between my eyes, and whatever she sees there must convince her, for she slowly nods. "Okay."

"Good girl." I press my lips to hers. She opens her mouth, and I sweep in my tongue, tasting the fruity notes of the Champagne and the tang of the vinaigrette, combined with the saltiness of the salmon she’s eaten. And past that is that honeyed essence of her, which goes straight to my head. My breath catches in my chest, my pulse knocks at my temples, and when my balls tighten, I have to slide my thighs apart to accommodate the rush of blood to my nether regions. She presses her ample tits against me, and her erect nipples dig into my chest, which in turn, sets off a wave of need that washes over my cock.

"Jesus,"—I manage to tear my mouth away and press my forehead against hers—"one touch, and I can’t stop until I’ve consumed you completely."

A moan bleeds from her lips, and it’s so needy, so carnal, the lust in my blood skyrockets. I grip her hips and set her back on her feet to put some space between us.

"But I wanna kiss you." She sways toward me, but I grip her hips and stop her.

"Not yet, baby, and not tonight.”

“What?” She stares.

“You’re still sore. I took your virginity. I’m not selfish enough to want to fuck you again when you need time to recover.”

She looks like she’s about to protest, then glances away. "Of course, there’s the hole whose name shall not be spoken."

"Not if it’s going to add to your discomfort."

"How do you know I’m in discomfort?"

"Every time you walk, you wince. And not that it doesn’t add to my ego, knowing it’s the imprint of my cock inside you that you feel when you do, but I don’t want you to be in so much pain that you don’t enjoy it when I fuck you again."

Once more, there’s that soft look in her eyes. "You’re really a teddy bear, you know that?"

I lean back in my chair. "Not how I’ve been described before."

"You are. Also,"—she grabs a spoon and scoops up some of the chocolate from the lava cake—"I think you should taste this." She holds it to my mouth, and I lick the spoon clean. Her breath catches; her own lips part.

I take the spoon from her, set it aside, then use my finger to retrieve a dollop of the cake. I hold it out to her. "Open."

When she does, I slide it over her tongue, and when she sucks on my fingertip, lust grips my entire body. "I need to be inside you, baby. If you’re not serious about what you said earlier?—"

"I am." Her voice is breathless. Then, she unties the sash at her waist, and the robe slithers to the floor. Her hourglass figure is on display. Those tits, that waist, the flare of her hips, which only add to her appeal, those fleshy thighs, and between them, her glistening, swollen pussy lips.

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