Page 216 of Mangled Memory
He’s killing me. His words, his tongue, his fingers. His dominating control.
I exhale and nod.
“Good, baby. Mine to unwrap. Mine to touch.” His left arm comes under my breasts and lifting as his other hand peels the dress over my right shoulder, kissing the top in an open-mouthed kiss that’s so sensual my knees want to buckle.
His left hand pinches my right nipple and tweaks it before his right arm joins under the fabric of my covered left one.
I gasp and buck. I can’t remember my nipples having this direct connection to my clit like they do now. Leaving his right arm across my chest, he removes his left to peel the sleeve off my left side, repeating his warm, wet kiss there as well.
Warm rough hands slide from my armpits to the ridge of my hips where the sleeves and bodice of my dress hang. With a soft whoosh of fabric, the gown puddles at my feet, and I’m left bare, except for my strappy heels.
“Fuck. So glad I didn’t know…” It’s as if he’s talking to himself as he pulls the pins from my hair. “Had I known, Princess, tonight would’ve gone very, very different.”
The thick heat of his erect cock presses against my ass through his trousers as his fingers roughly tug at my tresses, dipping my head back to expose my neck. His tongue slides along the shell of my ear before his teeth take the lobe and pinch. At the same time, he sneaks a hand around to pinch my aching nipples.
“My stunning wife… teasing me in that dress. Her wild nature hidden and tamed like her hair. Commando. Tell me, baby, is that pretty pink pussy weeping for me to touch?”
I nod, feeling the tug at my scalp from where he holds me.
“Yeah? Want me to relieve that ache?”
I nod again.
“Not yet.” He reaches around me to strum my clit once, causing me to mewl in protest. He releases my hair and drops his hand from between my legs to slide them down as he squats, his face right near my ass.
He begins unbuckling the strap of my heel, all the while his mouth teases the back of my thigh with warm wet kisses. He lazily fingers my ankle and the top of my foot after the strap is undone, before moving to my other shoe.
The sensual play is so erotic I could explode. Hell, I might orgasm from where my mind is taking me. He is efficient on the other side, all the while rubbing and placing slow circles on my ankle. When I finally step out of the only thing I have on, he slides his warm flat palms up the inside of my legs to my thighs.
I instinctively open wider for him.
He places a kiss to my left ass cheek before biting down. His hands part at my center, one pressing into my pelvis, the other sliding up the seam of my ass from my pussy to that forbidden area.
A tremor wracks my body as I feel everything—the warmth flowing to my core, the cool breath on my ass, the phantom fingers moving across my legs, the hunger swirling in my belly.
Need.
Lust.
Desire.
The sound that comes from me is neither ladylike nor practiced. It’s carnal and desperate.
I’mcarnal and desperate.
“Christian.” His name is a desperate plea on my lips. It’s the first thing I’ve uttered in our sensual tango.
“So close, Princess. That’s so close to how you say my name when I’m inside you.”
I repeat it, and he moves. He lifts me in a bridalcarry and places me on the mattress, kneeling between my legs on the carpet at my feet, and pulls my ass to the edge of the bed.
I’m teetering and could slide off at any time, except his shoulders come in to bracket my thighs, holding me wide.
His tongue laps my center, spearing into me, before finding my clit to suck and nibble. All the while he holds my eyes. Watching him, seeing his desire as pleasure is unleashed on me, I get why men love to watch. It’s two senses. I’m at his mercy, a boat on the choppy seas during a nor’easter, thrashed about, only in exquisite sexual bliss.
I try to squeeze my thighs together but am denied when he focuses his attention solely on my clit with suction and vibration. His shoulders bow wide, and he burrows closer. But it’s the nip at my clit that shocks me. Teeth scrape down my sensitive flesh.
“Ohhh, God.” The scream rips from me as I struggle to get closer and get away at the same time. Neither are possible. We’re as close as two people can be without being connected and my escape is futile. Besides I don’t want that. At all. “I’m so close. So close.”
