Page 62 of Wanted

Yes, yes, do it. The voice screams in my head, but only a pleading gasp comes from my lips.

“I want to see you too,” I reply. I want to see, feel, and touch.

Make him mine, stain his soul with my colors, lose myself in him.

Lionel gets rid of his clothes in record time, throwing his shirt and jeans to the other side of the room and then kissing me hungrily again. Voracious.

This feels so different. It’s like it’s our first time.Our first time, for real.

As his mouth travels down my neck, my hands tangle in the thick strands of his dark blond hair. I also want to touch him everywhere, learn the hills and valleys of his muscular body again, of his golden skin now marked by bullet scars.

Thank you for this new chance. I say to whoever gave it to us.

“Baby,” I hear him say as my hands run down the short-haired path that runs down the center of his hard torso. “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

“I want to feel you,” I complain.

“And you will,” he replies. “But if you keep touching me, this is going to end too soon, and I want it to last. There is so much I want to do to you.”

“Lionel,” I moan, as his tongue circles around one of my nipples, hardening it, and stealing my breath. “But I want…”

“Hands on my shoulders, baby.”

And I do my best to follow the order, but he’s making it so difficult.

A path of kisses goes down my side, down my navel, down my belly. Until he reaches between my legs, as he runs his tongue along my skin while dropping my feet to the floor, in front of the loveseat.

“Next time, we’ll go for dessert first,” he says after taking the first lick between my folds. “Dessert in the morning… dessert at lunchtime,” another and another.

I’m like a hot air balloon, getting ready to fly.

“And when I’m feeling greedy, I’ll also have dessert in the afternoon and twice at night.”

A finger enters me, and I cry out his name while his other hand keeps my legs open for him. This feels so good. He takes the time to discover me like never before, what makes my breaths faster, my back arches, and my hands can’t keep still.

This isn’t the same Lionel I met a few months ago, this is a new man, and I’m falling hard and fast for him. Like never before.

He’s playing a game that seems evil to me, taking me to the edge and then starting again.

“Lionel, now, end this torture,” I beg because I can’t resist it. I need him inside me, and he’s determined to give me pleasure with his hands. It’s wonderful to know that he’s willing to give me more, but I need everything right now.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I reply, feeling brave, powerful. “Please, Lionel, please…”

“My wife never has to beg for anything.”

Lionel gets up from next to the chair. He’s like a god waking up illuminated by the golden light of the lamp and the silver flashes of the moon outside. His cock rises proudly, and my mouth waters.

But not this time.

I open my legs, silently asking him to hurry, but he takes me in his arms to carry me to the bed, where he places me gently. He wastes no time in advancing his body over mine. I accommodate him by spreading my legs, so that he can align his erection to enter where I’m waiting for him, wet and hot.

Lionel rubs the tip of his cock against my center, making me vibrate and moan. I’m so ready, I grab him by his ass as a not-too-subtle invitation to hurry up.

“Oh shit, Stella.” I hear him moan. “This feels so good.”

“And it would feel even better.”

---