Page 32 of Love on the Run

Reaching for his collar, I make quick work of the buttons there, thankful he’s forgone a tie tonight. I slip the buttons free, take one arm at a time removing his cufflinks then sliding the shirt off. Pulling his t-shirt free of his pants, I bite my lip pulling it up as high as I can. There is a glint in his eye as he bends to accommodate my shorter height. They join the other clothes.

As much as I want to start kissing his chest I don’t give into the temptation, no. I run my hands over the hard expanse of his chest and chiseled abs. He’s thinner and harder than before. He’s always taken care of his body, now his angles are unyielding, sharper. He’s lost weight too. Impossibly, he looks better, every bit of softness honed away to mete out pleasure or pain as he sees fit.

My pussy tightens at the thought of how I get to enjoy him on my terms.

Akchiro’s still my husband. He will always be mine. My intention is to show him that. To remind him, he belongs to me just as much as I belong to him.

The buckle is next. I unlatch it pulling the belt free. He steps free of his pants. His boxers already wet with precum. I rub the spot a little before pulling them free and sliding them down his long sinewy legs. Socks follow joining the now precarious pile on the chaise.

He stands before me naked, beautiful, dick jutting boldly forward, his eyes still in that cruel cast. Putting my hand in his, I swallow when he clasps it in return. I look up dragging my gaze up the hard expanse of his torso until I’m reaching his eyes, there’s that almost vulnerable look again before he shutters it.

Soon.

I tug him behind me the short distance to the bed. I crawl to the center plumping the pillows so he can sit against the headboard.

He climbs in. His six-foot-two form dwarfing the smooth counterpane. He looks like a pasha waiting to be pleasured. He has one leg slightly bent and the other straight. His dick standing high and hard the tip pearled in delicious invitation. His hands rest at his sides. I crawl over to him. Eyes dropped low, he looks at me beneath hooded lids. His gaze is hot. He’s holding himself back. But the muscle ticking in his jaw tells me he’s barely leashing the passion and emotions roaring through him.

I move to cover his thighs, angling over him. I sit on him just a shade lower than where his hard, heavy dick rises from the dense thatch of black hair at the base.

“May I kiss you?” I ask my eyes on his lips. I watch them firm in a line that could be displeasure, but I don’t let it deter me. He gives me a short nod.

Leaning in, I lick his bottom lip pulling it into my mouth, sucking it, savoring the taste and texture of what’s mine. I move to the top and do the same before delving deeper. I take my time loving on every bit of him. He tastes like green tea and man. His lips are firm and receptive beneath mine. I suck his tongue into my mouth. Consumed by him. I suck it deep like I’ll do his dick if he lets me. His dick flexes, he groans as I mimic that particular pleasure. He doesn’t touch me. But I feel his hands fists the sheets at his sides beside my knees.

I pull away, looking into the dark, onyx pools of his gaze. I move to his hard jaw placing kisses all along the hard chiseled surface. I kiss every part of his face in apology. He closes his eyes on a sigh when I kiss both his lids, the bridge of his nose. I move to the other side of his face, finally his forehead. I suck his chin and feel his dick kick hard before wrapping my arms around his neck sinking into him devouring his mouth.

He doesn’t hesitate or grip the sheets. He grips me. He pulls me tightly to him, crushing my breasts against his chest. He inhales me. Our tongues, tangle, suck. We moan in unison like we’ve made it back home. There is no ownership, no dominance, just us. the sensuous glide of our tongues, the delicate of pleasure neither of us can deny.

Hands smooth up and down my back. I force myself not to ruin it by sobbing into his mouth as he angles his over mine sucking my tongue then making me take his over and over. Not like my dom, but like the man who mastered my body and taught me how to love. There is a vulnerability in his touch. My hands shake moving from his neck to his face holding him just so, I want to love on him more. Give him my sorry in every kiss and caress.

He grips my bottom. I gasp. He fingers dip lower finding me wet. I’m dripping making a mess of his lap. I pull away looking at the swirl of emotion in his eyes.

Moving down his body, I kiss this the strong cords of his neck sucking his flesh into my mouth marking him as mine. I graze his nipples with my nails scraping them, making red marks, then flicking them with my tongue.

“Fuuuuck” he growls, holding my head on his left nipple as I bite and suck it over and over before moving to the right. I can feel his dick bobbing and throbbing against me. Streaks of his precum cover my tummy.

I move lower, giving him long licks and sucks, making his abs flex. His stomach sucks in when I swirl my tongue in his navel.

Lower, I inhale the heavy masculine scent of him. My pussy is so slippery I squeeze my thighs tight as I settle between his legs. Precum seeps from the tip, I cover him hearing him groan feeling his big heavy hand in my hair. He arches into my mouth. He’s fucks my mouth with abandon. He’s already close. I let him have my throat. I gag on it feeling him jump, loving it. I feel him flex and pull out with a pop. Turn about is fair play but I don’t look at him in challenge like he did me, I don’t demand that he beg me. I simply move lower kissing, licking the sides of his inner thighs, tangling my fingers in his hair, brushing it with light strokes until I move lower. He opens his legs wider. I take his sac in my mouth. I suck and roll, dancing his nuts on my tongue. I lick lower and he shouts gripping the base of his dick to keep from coming. I smile to myself going back for more.

“Hana,” he grits out in warning. I move back to his dick and give him sloppy, messy head making his toes curl and as he fucks into my mouth before releasing him with a pop.

His face is hard when I look at him. “You have to come inside me if we are going to have another baby,” I say softly letting him know I am willing to give him what he wants so badly.

The transformation is immediate. Gone is the near feral look of rage from having his passion thwarted to a look of almost hesitant anticipation.

I move back to his lap straddling him. He helps me line up as I bring my legs forward so my feet rest forward instead of back. Ever so slowly, I descend bracing my hands on his shoulders.

“Ahh—”

“Fuck, Hana.” We say at the same time as I take my husband inch by delicious inch struggling to take his massive length. His dick is so big, he stretches me to the brim. He fucked me so hard yesterday and this morning, I’m still sore but my essence eases the way helping me. Still, I gasp.

“Slow down, baby. Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmurs looking at where our bodies meet. I know he’s not aware he’s even used the endearment. Little by little, I keep going until he’s filled me to the hilt.

“So good,” I whisper, kissing his throat feeling his dick flex inside me.

I pull back and he kisses me in a long assault. His kiss is a seduction taking me, making me want things, regret things, hope for things.

When his lips finally release mine, I’m left with such an intense feeling of longing, I can’t stop the tears that escape the corners of my eyes. He watches the trails they make. My heart stops when he leans in and licks them. Pressing his head against mine he grits with such urgency my body clenches. “You’re so fucking pretty when you cry.”

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