I would care more that there are hundreds of people waiting for us in the ballroom of one of Andrik’s many hotels if anyone could steal my devotion from this man.
Since they can’t, I continue sucking Mikhail’s dick like I was born to do it. It isn’t a hard feat. His pleasure is my pleasure. The wave close to cresting in my stomach is a surefire sign of this.
Pre-cum leaks from his crown when Mikhail’s hooded gaze rakes my wedding dress. My gown is almost custom. A designer who bid to be featured in the wedding of the year didn’t sew it, though. It was made by the woman who made my first dress. My mother.
“You want me to come?” His gravelly, unrestrained voice is enough to bring me to climax, but I hold back, desperate to see where the flare darting through his eyes will take us.
When I nod, he smirks.
“Then you ought to thank your mother for the split in your dress, because I sure as fuck ain’t coming before my wife.”
His wife comment already has my core clenching, so you can imagine how hard it is to stave off my orgasm when he plucks me from the floor, spreads me on the leather bench opposite him, and then loses his head under layers of lace.
My hands seek something to clutch when he blows a hot breath over my pussy seconds before his lips find my clit.Through the delicate material of my panties, he circles my clit with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth.
I climax in a rush that burns through me like wildfire, setting me alight. I buck against his mouth as I sing his praises like our limousine is unmanned. My climax is unending. It lasts forever, and I can’t stop moaning.
“One more.” Both my dress and the frantic thud of my pulse muffles Mikhail’s voice, so he repeats his request. “One more, then you can make me come.”
My back arches when he tugs my panties off like he knows I packed a spare pair, and then I sink into the sticky leather when his tongue flutters over my sensitive skin in rapid succession.
He eats me with a hunger that hasn’t dispersed a smidge over the past twelve months, and I surrender to the madness.
I grind my hips upward, mashing his face with my pussy and increasing the friction. The tingles racing through me turn blinding, and I am at his complete mercy in a shamefully quick time.
I need this orgasm more than my lungs need air, but it won’t relent. No matter how hard he sucks at my clit and tongues my pussy, the storm doesn’t roll in.
Don’t get me wrong. It feels amazing, but the needy clenches of my pussy, desperate for something to cling to, are frustrating. I need him inside me. Now.
When I tell Mikhail that, with the added word ofhusband, he turns feral. He thrusts my dress up until I’m almost lost underneath it, wets the head of his cock with the evidence of my arousal while scrubbing at his drenched lips with his free hand, and then enters me with one forceful thrust.
The sudden intrusion is painful, but it is also explosive. I come with a mangled scream of his name, my body convulsing as relief splinters through me.
Through a hooded, lusty stare, Mikhail continues lunging forward, fighting through the squeezes of my pussy, coercing him to join me on the dark ride.
He extends my pleasure by adding a heap of wicked words to the thrusts of his hips. He makes my orgasm last forever. I can’t stop coming. Screaming. And they make Mikhail even more unhinged.
He spreads me wide with his hips while sinking into me deeper. Over and over again. His pace is manic, and I lose my mind more with every precise pump.
Mikhail’s eyes are locked on my face, his lips glistening from my earlier arousal, his nostrils flaring with every breath. He looks so beautiful above me, so powerful, it is almost unfair. His personal development has grown in leaps and bounds over the past year as well. He is more confident and self-assured and not tempted to hide it behind a cocky, arrogant demeanor. He loves fiercely and honorably, and I’m so fucking grateful I am the one he loves.
“I love you, Coal,” I murmur, my voice heavy with sentiment. “You’re the reason I burn, and I am honored to call you my husband… for real this time.”
He bottoms out at my uterus as a rush of pleasure sears his gorgeous face. I climax again when the hot spurts of his cum fill me. His release takes everything out of him. He collapses on top of me with his lips on my cheek and his hot breaths gusting over my bone-dry lips.
I don’t see him staying down long when he feels my body’s response to his reply. “I love you too, Ember. Always have. Always will.”
Fifty minutes later, round two a necessity when emotions spill over, I lay sated and bleary-eyed on the back seat of the limousine. Mikhail sits on my left, seemingly unruffled. His hair has the sex-mused look all women crave, and his expression announces complete satisfaction.
When I harrumph, disgusted at how perfect he looks after a marathon romp session, his lips curve into a smile. “We can skip the church and go straight to the reception if you’re tired.”
I’m overwhelmed with post-orgasmic endorphins, but nothing will stop me from shaking my head. We need this, and I won’t have anyone take it away from us this time.
“All right,” Mikhail murmurs, effortlessly reading me. “If you’re sure?”
When I nod, he pushes the intercom button at his side and instructs the driver to take us to the church.
Anticipation builds the further we travel. This is the first time we’ve done this route together. Although I doubt anyone will try to intervene this time, it feels right doing it together. It makes it more special. Unique. It is us creating our own waves as it always should have been.
