Page 82 of Requiem for Love

She stroked him with one hand and gestured to her outfit. “Does my man approve?”

“Yes, your man approves. Now, come here. I want to see something.”

“Nope.” She stroked him with one hand while she licked and sucked at his sac. “And yes, they’re crotchless.”

“I don’t appreciate you keeping my pussy from me.”

“Your pussy?”

“See that ring on your finger?” He attempted to point, but pleasure momentarily seized him, angling his head into the pillow. “You’re mine, Ayesha. Every part of you is mine.”

She took him to the back of her throat, and he held her in place with a hand in her hair. As she raised her head, she slurped, coating his shaft until it glistened.

“Then this is mine too.” She swallowed him again, hollowed her cheeks, and sucked, her head bobbing.

Every grunt and moan that left his throat made her pulse, but she nearly climaxed when he moved his hips, thrusting into her mouth.

“Ayesha…” He thrust faster, weaving his fingers between her hair strands. “Ayesha…fuck. You want it?”

She wanted it like an anniversary gift.

“Where, baby?” he asked.

In response, she bobbed faster, sucked harder.

He hissed, exhaled on a deep moan, and came down her throat like he hadn’t had an orgasm in millennia.

She watched the entire thing, addicted to the pleasure-filled dip in his brow and the mix of confusion and ecstasy on his face as he came. And she didn’t release him until he jerked and spasmed as she sucked him dry.

“Every,” she licked his tip, “last drop.”

He stared at her, chest heaving. “The fact that anyone thinks your little freaky ass is innocent astounds me.”

She laughed.

“Lie on your back,” he ordered.

They switched positions.

He nudged her legs apart and entered her with both fingers while his thumb played with her clit.

She cupped her breasts, the lace rough against her palms, and the moment her fingers made contact, pleasure tore through her, lifting her hips clear off the mattress.

“Ayesha, you are so damn sexy.” He ran his unoccupied palm over the flimsy ribbon ties at her hip. “When did you buy this?”

“A…while ago.”

“What’s ‘a while’?”

“Ordered it when…we were still in…Fiji. The night after we agreed to get married.”

He dipped his head and kissed the exposed swell of her breast. “Tell me why.”

“I couldn’t—”

He trapped her covered nipple between his teeth, and the rest of her response got lodged in her throat.

Using a single hand, he unhooked the bra’s front clasps. When her breasts spilled out, he groaned and shut his eyes, as if restraining something inside him that preferred to be unleashed.

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