Page 43 of Stealing His Cupcake
Her mouth opens on a gasp but she doesn’t protest. I remind myself to move slowly. As I approach the bed, I remove my shirt and pants, then kick off my socks. I’m left in nothing but the ridiculously tented boxers, the front already soaked with pre-cum. Amy watches with rapt attention and I’d lie if I said I don’t get a kick of her admiring my body. But she still hasn’t taken off her clothes. “Cupcake.” I risk letting a slight warning color my voice. “Take that dress off. Now.”
“O-okay.” Her voice trembles, but it’s from arousal rather than fear. Sensual threats are acceptable, it seems.
Rising to her knees, she pulls the dress over her head. Her underwear is simple and functional cotton, no lace, yet it’s still the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. She appears to be conscious about it, though, lowering her head and crushing that damned lower lip between her teeth again. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I didn’t bring anything pretty. I didn’t expect, well, this,” she points between us, “when I packed.”
“Amy, I already told you that you’re beautiful no matter what you wear or don’t wear. See how hard I am?” I palm my shaft through the fabric of my boxers. After lusting after Amy all day, I’m closer to exploding than I would have liked, without even touching her or seeing her completely naked. “I want you, Amy. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you a week ago and I haven’t stopped since.”
“A week ago? But I was…” Trailing off, she touches the fading bruise on her temple. A wave of fury rips through my veins. I should have been the one to kill that bastard. “I was all beaten and bruised a week ago.”
Slowly, so as not to startle her, I raise my hand to her face. “I thought you were beautiful even then. Beautiful and strong.”
Leaning into my touch, Amy closes her eyes. “I’m not strong. I need… I can’t be alone. Abandoned. It frightens me more than anything.”
“You’ll never be alone again, Amy,” I promise seriously before capturing her mouth in a slow, soft kiss. “Especially not tonight,” I add with a grin.
Pulling back a little, Amy looks into my eyes. Then, just like last night, she gives a small nod.
Chapter 32
Amy
He’sknownmefora week. Not even personally. He saw me, beaten bloody, and decided I was the one. If that doesn’t make Wyatt insane, I don’t know what does. I must be insane, too, because I love it. I guess our insanities are compatible like that.
As he pulls me in for another kiss, his hands deftly undoing my bra, I regret not packing something sexy. I own a few pairs of matching lace underwear, the really hot and expensive kind that makes even a big girl like me look sexy. I didn’t bring it, though. Partly because I was in shock while packing, partly because I thought it would be stupid to bring seductive lingerie for what I thought would be the last few hours of my life. I had no desire to entice my captor into anything untoward. Now I want to smack past Amy for not thinking ahead. How am I supposed to appear sexy to my husband in simple “grandma” panties and my oldest, most worn-out bra? Not that Wyatt needs any enticing. His cock is tenting his boxers, so hard I worry it will soon burst through. There’s a dark spot around the head where his arousal soaked into the fabric, just like I’m sure there’s one on my panties.
Once he has my bra off, he gently lowers me onto my back. Just like last night, he trails kisses along my jaw, nips at my earlobe, then moves down my neck. Unlike last night, I moan and arch against him, tilting my head to give him better access. He continues downward until he reaches my breasts. A tortured groan sounds from him as he kneads them and his tongue flicks my nipples. “Fuck. So perfect.”
My body comes alive at his touch, my skin heating wherever his lips meet it. Soon, it feels like I’m about to burst into flames. I try to angle my hips to rub myself against Wyatt, but he’s straddling my thighs, not letting me spread my legs and I can’t get the angle right. It’s infuriating, especially when I realize he’s doing it on purpose. “Need something, cupcake?” He smirks from where he sucks and nips at my nipples.
I buck my hips but he’s too heavy to dislodge. My clit pulses with my heartbeat, but no matter how much I squirm or rub my legs together, I can’t get any friction. “Please, Wyatt.” I moan as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. “Please, touch me.”
As if only waiting for my invitation, he lodges one leg between mine. I spread them instantly, using the newfound freedom to rub my pussy against his thigh like a cat in heat. “You’re so wet for me,” Wyatt groans, tracing the shape of my pussy through my panties. “So wet.”
As he pulls my panties off, cold air hits my sensitive flesh, igniting it further. Before I can pull Wyatt into another kiss, he dives between my spread legs. He nuzzles, kisses, and licks while I’m torn between raging arousal and embarrassment. “I haven’t showered,” I protest, halfheartedly attempting to push him away.
His hot breath caresses my pussy. “I don’t fucking care. I told you, Amy, you’re perfect.” Focusing his efforts on my clit, Wyatt soon has to grab my hips to hold me down as I instinctively buck against him. He laughs. “Needy little cupcake. Do you want to come?”
“Yes! Please, Wyatt!” My hands tangle in his hair, pulling and tugging, no doubt painfully, but he doesn’t protest. Spearing me with two fingers, he redoubles his efforts, stimulating me both from the inside and theoutside, and that dual teasing, coupled with the incredibly erotic sight of him between my thighs, tips me over the edge. I scream out as I come, my thighs squeezing him to hold him in place. He continues with his ministrations even through my orgasm, prolonging it as every flick of his tongue or twitch of his fingers sets off aftershocks.
“God,” Wyatt groans, “I love it when you come all over me. Fuck, I-I fucking need to be inside you now, Amy. Please, say yes.”
In lieu of an answer, I urge him up to kiss me. My flavor coats his tongue and lips and it feels both sinful and incredibly erotic to taste myself off him. Wyatt kisses me like a man possessed, both of us trembling with need. Reaching between our bodies, I free his cock from his boxers and guide it to my entrance. Even then, he holds back.
“Are you sure?” He shudders as his tip slips between my soaked pussy lips but, infuriatingly, still doesn’t sink himself inside of me. “You don’t have to—”
God! This man. How can a person who kills people for a living be so set on consent?
“Yes, I’m sure.” My heels dig into his firm ass as I wrap my legs around him, impatiently trying to force him closer. “Come on, Wyatt. Don’t you want to claim your wife on our wedding night,husband?” The word finally breaks through his self-control. With a tortured moan, Wyatt surges forward, his cock sliding inside of me in one forceful thrust. I cry out as the slight burn from the way he stretches me mingles with the delicious feeling of being stuffed full.
“Shit, sorry.” Wyatt’s entire body trembles as he holds himself still, letting me get used to his size, which, frankly, is formidable. There was nothing small about my previous boyfriends but Wyatt outshines them by far. “Are you okay, Amy?”
My heart just about breaks over how sweet and caring he is. Who cares if he’s a monster in other people’s eyes? To me, he’s a hero.
Tenderly running my fingers through his hair, I whisper, “I’m great. You can move.” Since he still seems reluctant, I clench my inner muscles aroundhim, feeling his girth even more. “Go ahead. Husband.” He loves that and frankly, so do I. I never thought I’d get to call anyone my husband, let alone a man I met just yesterday, but what was that saying about seizing the day? Hakuna matata? No, that wasn’t it. Whatever. I’m seizing my day here. Regardless of his insane reasons, Wyatt married me, so I’ll be his wife. In sickness and in health and all that. And if the deal comes with a massive cock pounding me into oblivion? That’s just an unexpected bonus.
“As you command, wife.”
Slowly at first, he moves, his cock igniting all the nerve endings inside of my pussy. I moan and writhe underneath him as he speeds up, slamming into me with vigor, chasing his own orgasm. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, his face drawn into a tight grimace. “I can’t—fuck, I won’t last.”
