Page 57 of The Wrong Husband
"Eyes on me," he orders.
I can’t disobey him. My eyelids open as if they’re linked to the command in his tone. I watch as he continues to eat me out. He curls his tongue around the diamond hard nub of my clit; I moan. He licks his way down to my weeping slit, thrusts his tongue inside and does something indescribable; my eyes roll back in my head. The combination of him eating me out and pinching my nipples has every part of my body vibrating with tension. Little balls of fire erupt in my bloodstream, in my cells, from each pore in my body.
Surely, this is an acute sympathetic nervous system response, which only happens in times of extreme arousal. My libido seems to spike like a cytokine storm, sending alarm bells ringing through my brain. "I’m close," I gasp. "So close."
The pleasure is too much, the waves of sensation flooding my body with dopamine. It blends with the red lashings of pain that radiate out from my nipples, which he continues to pluck. He maneuvers my body like a fine surgical instrument he’s going to use in an operation aimed at cutting me off at the knees and turning me into a blubbering mass of need. Of yearning. Of hope. Of pleasure. Of everything I’ve denied myself all my life.
"Connor," I groan. "Please. Please," I warble, half out of my head with the sensations, not caring if I make sense or not.
"Who does this pussy belong to?" His words vibrate against my core, pushing that tsunami of feelings further up my spine. Up toward that edge. The horizon I’m aiming for.
"You." I lock my ankles around his shoulders. "Only you."
A shiver grips his big body, a trembling signaling that I pleased him. The tension coiled under his skin turns his muscles into a vibrating pillar of strength—all of which is focused onwhere his lips are on me, between my legs. He doubles his efforts.
Licking. Sucking. Biting down on my cunt. Then squeezes my nipples with such intensity that pain lashes across the backs of my eyes, turning my eyeballs into circular blasts of delight.
My breathing fractures. The tension along my sacrum tightens, and heat coils low in my abdomen.
My pelvic floor contracts in spasms I can’t control. My inner muscles clench involuntarily, a reflexive cascade driven by the overstimulation of sensory afferents.
Pressure peaks at the base of my spine, and a full-body tremor arcs through me—autonomic, unrelenting. The edges of my vision blur as blood rushes to my head, and a rush of dopamine ignites behind my frontal lobe.
"Come for me, right now," he snaps.
I shatter. My climax crashes over me, the pleasure laced with fury roaring through me, ripping through the chains I placed around my emotions. Myself. My heart. My very soul. Sweeping away the woman I was. The one who blamed herself for everything that happened in her life. It sweeps me over the edge and then, I’m in free fall. Without gravity. Weightless. I float back to earth. Through white space. Through timelessness.
When I come back into my body, it’s to find he’s licking up the moisture on my inner thighs.
I flush, the honeyed heat crawling through my veins to settle in parts of me he’s awoken. His eyes are molten, a myriad of emotions in them which I dare not question. I feel raw. Like he tore off the bandage I’ve wrapped myself in for so long.
He crawls over me and presses his lips to mine. I taste myself on him, the sweetness of my cum overlaid with his muskier taste. It’s a concoction which goes straight to my head. Is there a me and him in any other way than this?There could be, if I agree to marry him.
"Eyes on me." His growl slices through my thoughts as precisely as a scalpel. But not to cut. To claim. "When I’m with you, I demand your complete attention. You will not think of anything else when you’re with me. You feel me, Fever?"
"Fever?" I ask thickly.
"You’re in my veins. A virus without a cure. You’ve infiltrated my blood. Taken residence in my cells. I don’t think I can be rid of you."
I allow myself a chuckle. "You sure know how to romance me."
He nods, his expression serious enough to burn. "I know your language. I know what turns you on. I know what you like. I know the words that mean so much to you." He kisses me again, his lips hard, the contact sweet. His taste sinks into my palate. Coats my tongue. Laces my bloodstream.
He’s taken residence inside of me as much as he claims I have in him. And the feeling is… A lot. Overwhelming. It suddenly feels like too much. I tear my mouth from his and take big gasps of air. And when I push at his shoulders, he instantly pulls back.
"What’s wrong?"
I shake my head, ashamed of my reaction. It’s not anything he did. In fact, I love his possession. His dominance. His ability to command my thoughts and make me forget. Too bad, he can’t change the past.
He cups my face, and my gaze is drawn to his. "Whatever it is, I’m here for you. I can help you. I’ll make sure no one ever harms you again." His words are soft, but his tone is steely.His gaze piercing. All knowing. Like he's looking into my soul, discovering my secrets.
I wish I could tell him everything. I wish I could share what’s holding me back from opening myself up to him. But I can’t. This is something I need to deal with myself. This guilt which is eating away at me—I need to come to terms with it myself. So, I pull away from him.
"I’m hungry." I glance past him at the packed basket in the corner of the balloon. "Are you going to feed me?"
21
Connor
