Page 384 of The Christmas Wife

"I’ll buy you many more." He pushes aside my panties and shoves two thick fingers inside me. I gasp, try to squirm away, but he holds me in place. He begins to weave his fingers in and out of me. I’m so soaked, there’s a slurping noise as he thrusts in and out of me. It seems to please him, though, for he gives me abarely perceptible nod. It’s not like I had anything to do with it. My body’s a kite, and he holds the reel which controls the string.

He adds a third finger, and a whine spills from my lips. It seems to spur him on, for his movements intensify. Every time he shoves his fingers inside me, my entire body jolts, and I rise up to my toes with the force of his thrust. When he pulls it out, I settle back on my heels. In-Up-Out-Down, the rhythm echoes through my body. The next time he plunges inside me, he curves his fingers and hits a spot deep inside me. Sparks of sensations oscillate to my extremities. My knees knock together, and I sag, impaling myself further on his digits.

And when he presses his thumb into the swollen bud of my clit, I cry out. I grab hold of his shoulders, and he watches me closely as I sweat and pant and moan and plead with him. The words are garbled. I dig my fingertips into his jacket, and feel I’m poised on the verge of something big, something new, something so different and yet, so familiar. Something the primal part of me recognizes, but my mind and my body can only guess. The trembling shoots up my legs, my thighs, and squeezes down on my belly, only to zip up my spine. And I’m going to?—

He pulls out his fingers. In one smooth move, he stands and turns me around so I’m forced to grab the edge of the counter. He pulls off the remnants of my dress then tears off my panties. I cry out but hold his gaze in the mirror as he fits his cock to my opening. He stays poised there, one pulse. Another. Then, he impales me.

26

Edward

"Eddie," she cries out my name. The sound goes straight to my cock, and I grow bigger, harder, more insistent. I need to pause. I need to give her time to adjust. I dig my shoes into the floor, tighten my thighs, and wait. Wait. Her pupils are dilated, and there’s only a circle of blue around the black. Her mascara has streaked down her cheeks, a dribble of saliva drips from her chin. The remnants of her dress are on the floor, and her left tit is out of her bra cup. Her color is high, and her hair is a cloud of spun gold with violet streaks about her shoulders. She looks used and messed up and yet, there’s an innocence to how she licks her lips, a stubbornness to how she refuses to break the connection of our gazes.

She’s stubborn, has a tenacity I’d have never guessed, and has the most gorgeous curves I’ve ever laid my eyes on. She’s a goddess, a siren, a vixen—and an innocent. How could I have gotten so lucky to have found her? How could I have resistedher? How can I let her come any closer, when she’s already wriggled her way under my skin?

"You’re so fucking tight, so hot; your cunt is a work of beauty," I growl through gritted teeth.

She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, I pull out and thrust into her again. Her entire body jolts, and she cries out. I wait until her breathing slows again, until her eyes clear, and she, once more, holds my gaze. I pinch her clit, and she shudders. I begin to rub that hard little knob, and she wriggles and writhes, but I hold her in place. I strum her pussy lips and am rewarded with a gush of moisture between her legs. I pull back slowly, stay poised at her opening, and this time, when I plunge forward, she throws her head back, showing me the length of her neck. I begin to fuck her in earnest. In-out-in. Each time I sink into her, she shudders and cries out. Each time I pull out, she whines. Her little noises, her groans and whimpers drive me over the edge. I rub her clit, and her eyes roll back in her head. I tilt my hips, piston forward and into her, touching her deep—so deep inside, I almost come. With a growl, I manage to hold back, then lean down and press my cheek against hers. "Open your eyes."

She cracks open her eyelids, and I look into her eyes as I slowly, inch by inch, bury myself inside her one last time. I flick her clit and command, "Come," and she shatters. A high-pitched whine emerges from her lips as she shudders. Her knees give out, and I hold her up as her body twitches and jerks with her climax. When she closes her eyelids and slumps, I pull out. When I look down, I notice the blood on my cock.What the?—?

I lift my hand, notice the stain on my fingers.A virgin? Of course, she’s a virgin. She was told she was going to have an arranged marriage.Most likely, she was instructed to keep herself unsullied. And I sensed it. My subconscious sensed it, but I was too caught up in my own ghosts to acknowledge it. Ithought I felt some resistance when I took her but put it down to my size. And she didn’t tell me.Why didn’t she tell me? Maybe, because you had your cock down her throat, you bastard.I hold her limp body close, manage to pull up my briefs and pants and zip up, then scoop up her limp body and walk over to the bath.

I lower her to her feet, balance her, and run a bath. When it’s half-full, I shut off the water, divest her of her bra, then lower her into the tub. I keep her upper body upright and run a washcloth over her face, her breasts, down between her legs. My still hard cock strains against my pants. My balls are so hard, they weigh a ton. I acknowledge the need, the blinding desire that still runs through my veins, and watch it as it infiltrates every pore of my body. I’m good at punishing myself. It's the one thing I learned in my days as a priest that's stuck with me, and I’ve become an expert over the years. Practice makes perfect, after all. When I raise my gaze to her face, I find her eyes are open.

"You didn’t come."

I tilt my head and continue with my ministrations, trying to keep my actions as clinical as possible—like that’s possible with her? Especially not with the massive column between my thighs, and my balls, which are as hard as the iron I pump in the gym. I finish up, throw the cloth aside, then reach down and lift the plunger. The water begins to drain. I rise to my feet and hold out my hand. She grips it and I pull her up, then grab a towel and drape it about her shoulders. I wipe her down quickly, trying not to glance at the column of her neck, or her plump breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her belly, and the alluring mound below. I wrap the towel around her, then lift her in my arms.

"I can walk," she protests.

I carry her to my bedroom, lower her to her feet, and pull back the covers. "Get in."

"This is your room," she points out.

When I don’t reply, she firms her lips. "I thought you said you didn’t want us to share a bed."

"We’re not going to share a bed."

"But—"

"Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?"

She glances away. "I…thought you knew."

I rub the back of my neck. "If I had been thinking straight, I might have guessed and gone slowly." I shake my head. "Get in the bed, Belle."

"First, tell me why you didn’t come."

I blink. The mouth on her. The very sexy, hot hole that was my undoing. That is, until I was ensconced in her pussy. This woman isn’t afraid to go toe-to-toe with me. Unlike my employees. It’s refreshing and invigorating and—I will not think about how much I want her right now. I reach over and tug on the towel so it slides off of her.

"Oh!" Her cheeks turn pink. A flush creeps up her chest. Her embarrassment fuels the lust in my veins. My cock throbs, a burning sensation extending out from my groin. She glances down at my crotch and swallows. "You’re still hard."

"And you’re not yet in bed."

She scowls, then slides in under the cover. I pull it up until she’s covered all the way to her neck, then sit down next to her on the bed. "Are you sore?"

Her flush deepens. "A little."

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