Page 151 of The Christmas Wife

"Does this feel real?" He pinches my nipple and I yelp. He bends his head, sucks on it, and I feel the pull deep down in my womb. Everything he does seems to awaken parts of me that had hitherto been happy to exist without communicating with me.

"Weston," I gasp, "you're forgetting something."

He releases my breast, glares up at me, "I am?" He blinks, then his forehead smooths, "I am."

He turns his head, fastens his mouth around my other breast. He sucks on my nipple, curls his tongue around the pebbled bud, bites down with his sharp teeth, and I yell, dig my fingers in his hair and tug.

He grunts and his dick lengthens further inside of me—is that even possible? He continues to lave my nipple, sucking on it, dragging his teeth around the tender flesh, then opens his mouth wider, taking in as much of my breast as he can fit. Heat, lust, pleasure, pain... All of it... None of it... A confluence of emotions whirls inside, tugging at my lower belly, arrowing to my cunt, which clamps tighter around his engorged flesh. Of course, he is pleasuring me, but ultimately, he is the beneficiary. How could someone be so...on target all the time in how he plays my body?

"Weston," I pant, "Please, please, please, please?—"

He pulls out of me, raises his head, steps away.

"What the hell?" I blink, "You come back here and fuck me, you hear me?"

"Are you telling me what to do?" His lips quirk.

"You bet I am, you pussy tease, you—" I squeak, for he's grabbed my hips and flipped me over. I am on my arms and knees, butt pushed out in his face. The hell? Then a wetness sinks into my pussy, up my slit, across the valley between my arsecheeks.

"No," I shudder, "Weston, no."

He stops, "No?"

"No," I huff. "I mean, yes. Don't stop, whatever it is that you're doing, don't, oh!" He licks my puckered hole and my entire body trembles. It's filthy, and dirty and it's hot. So bloody hot. "Oh, my God," I breathe. "Oh, my, G-o-d." I yelp, for he swipes his tongue down to my cunt, then licks his way back up to my forbidden hole and back, again and again. My knees tremble and my elbows wobble. I sink down to support my face on my arms. "Wes," I gasp, "oh, you're, I'm—" My entire body seems to shudder. "I'm?—"

"Don't you dare come," he growls against my sensitive clit, right before he bites on it. I howl, the sound muffled against my arms. My shoulder shudder, I slide my knees apart, thrust out my arse, giving him more access. He can eat me out like the sweetest of desserts, lick me, suck on me, insert his tongue into my pussy and drink of me. A trembling grips my legs, my back. He begins to fuck my backhole in earnest, shoving his tongue inside, curling it in, before he pulls out and bites on my butt. I huff.

"You taste fucking amazing," he mutters, "like apple pie and my cum."

I chuckle. Now that, would be one hell of a dish to put on the menu of my next pop-up delivery special. He grips my thighs, pushes them further apart. I crack open my eyes, stare down from across the length of my body, to between my legs, to where he swirls his tongue up my inner thigh, licking off the crumbs, then the other side. He meets my gaze, licks his lips, then declares, "I am going in for seconds."

44

Weston

"I am going to fuck you with my tongue." I take in her flushed face, her parted lips, her heaving breasts, "You ready, Princess?"

She blinks. "Do I have a choice?" she moans.

"Nope." I smile in anticipation, smack my lips together. Her breathing grows shallow, she licks her lower lip mirroring my desire, and my cock throbs, reminding me I needed to get on with the program. I'd promised to clean her up, before filling her up again, and I'm a man of my word—when it suits me, of course. I smirk, thrust my face into her pussy and close my mouth around her cunt. She moans, her thighs tremble, and liquid heat streams from her wet channel. I slurp it up, shove my tongue inside her cunt, mirror how I want to fuck her with my shaft—in-out-in— until her entire body shudders, and again.

She groans. "Weston, please..." she whines.

Yeah, I know the feeling. I reach down to grab my cock, pump it once, scoop up some of the pre-cum from the weeping head, then slide my fingers inside her backhole.

"Oh," she wheezes, then pounds her tiny fist into the table, "I'm coming, I'm?—"

I tear my mouth from her pussy, grasp her waist and haul her off of the table and onto her feet in front of me. Her legs seem to give way. I hold her up, kick her legs apart, then scoop up her cum and ease it into her backhole.

"Wes..." she moans, "I haven't... I mean... I can't..."

"You can," I growl.

I add a second finger inside of her, and she groans, "It's too much...It's?—"

"Not enough." I pull out my fingers, scoop up some of the mushed-up apple and smear it into her puckered hole.

"Oh." She grips the edge of the table, lowers her chin to her chest.

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