Page 125 of The Wrong Husband
"It’s not too soon, is it?" he whispers.
I shake my head. "I want you, I?—"
He closes his mouth over mine, swallowing my other words. Then, he saws his fingers in and out of me, increasing the speed, so the heat in my belly becomes a wall of flames spreading to my feet and ebbing up my spine.
I moan into his mouth and begin to hump his fingers in earnest. At my back, I feel his cock thicken and lengthen, signaling how turned on he is, too. I begin to rub up against his shaft, upping his level of desire. He makes a guttural sound at the back of his throat. So quintessentially male. So erotic. Hinting how close he is to losing control. It excites me that he’s feeling the intensity, the need for me as much as I am for him.
All the while, he continues to thrust his fingers in and out of me with practiced precision. He repeatedly strokes that sensitive zone just behind my pubic bone, where dense vascular tissue and nerve endings converge. It’s as if he’s learned the contours of my pelvic floor by touch alone.
My thighs tremble. My pelvic muscles clench instinctively around his fingers, as if my body’s trying to pull him deeper, hold him there.
Pressure builds—sharp and urgent—behind my pubic bone, radiating outward in ripples I can’t contain. Every glide of his fingers sends another burst of sensation ricocheting through my visceral nerve network, overriding cognition. I’m reduced to reflex and instinct, trapped somewhere between the clinical understanding of what’s happening…and the primal need to surrender to it.
Then, just when I think I can’t stand it, he tears his mouth from mine. He flips me around so I’m straddling his thighs. His big hands on my waist make me feel impossibly tiny.
I love that he’s able to maneuver my body like I weigh nothing. That even with my plus-size figure, I feel petite next to his big body. He makes me feel cared for, and protected, and worshipped. And also, dominated.
How is it possible that all of these emotions can be woven into the same moment? How is he able to elicit so many different feelings from me at the same time? I glance down to where his cock stands erect, the crown purple and engorged. I wrap myfingers around his girth and am not surprised when my fingers barely meet.
"When I felt you inside me, I knew you were large, but now—” I stare at his cock pointedly. “Now, I wonder how you fit inside."
"The trick was to make sure you were both aroused and relaxed." He smirks.
Oh, that ego. It’s sexy as hell, but it makes me want to chip away at it, just to watch the cracks form.
And I know exactly how.
I slide back, settling myself on his knees, then reach for the lever on the side of the tub. One flick, and the water starts to drain.
He arches a brow, silently questioning.
I hold his gaze. And wait.
The waterline drops, inch by inch, until it’s where I want it. Then I hit the lever again, stopping the flow.
He dips his chin, understanding.
I glance down—his cock, now exposed, proud and gleaming. I lower my head and take him down my throat.
44
Connor
She swallows around my cock, and it feels like my entire body is going to burst into flames. My balls tighten. My heart pounds against my rib cage. I’d say it’s a predictable reaction when any gorgeous woman has her mouth wrapped around my dick. But it’s notanywoman, it’smy wife.And there’s something very intimate, and very erotic in having Phe deep-throat me. There’s something very personal, knowing there won’t be anyone else but me who’ll see her in this position. I’m the only person she’ll ever be giving a blow job to. The only man whose cock and fingers and mouth she’ll have on her body.
Possessiveness tightens my belly. The feeling in my chest turns viselike. I want to position her over my cock and fuck into that tight, hot pussy. I want to squeeze her butt, and her thighs, and then her breasts. I want to bite down on the curve of where her shoulder curves into her throat and leave a mark, so the entire world knows that she’s mine. Only mine. I curl my fingersinto fists and force myself to take deep, calming breaths. Then I fold my arms behind my neck and lean back.
"Curl your fingers around the base," I direct.
She does so.
"Lick up the length to the crown."
She swirls her pink tongue as instructed, hazel eyes shining with lust, long eyelashes spiky with moisture. She licks around the head, then once again, curls her mouth around the crown. Her cheeks hollow, and it feels like she’s sucking my soul through my cock.
"Fuck," I grunt, unable to stop myself from surging forward. My shaft slides down her throat, once more ensconced in that tight column. She gags, and the suction shivers up my length. It tugs on the tightening knot of need at the base of my spine.
"Squeeze harder."
