My tongue sweeps across my bottom lip as I peer up at him through my lashes, then unbuckle his belt. When I tug his shirt free, he impatiently rips the shirt open, causing buttons to fly everywhere, so that it doesn’t hinder his view of me. I help his pants fall to the floor, then palm the throbbing bulge in his boxer briefs. I rub my hand up and down a couple of times, give him a squeeze, then lower the waistband of his underwear to free him.
I’m about to take his cock into my greedy hand when his hand clasps the hair piled on my head and demands my attention.
“You should have run when you had the chance,” he says almost to himself. “Open your mouth.”
I do as he says and am surprised to feel moisture start to leak from my core. Even this pitch-black side of him turns me on because, despite it all, I know he’d never hurt me.
“Flatten your tongue.” He holds his cock in one hand and my head in the other, guiding himself into my mouth. When I close my lips around him, he gives me a little tug. “Open,” he demands in a rasp. The touch of my tongue on the sensitive underside of his shaft has him ragged with need, but he doesn’t lose himself. In and out, he drags himself across my tongue over and over. I get the sense it’s a test of his control. Like he’s teasing himself. Or is it a punishment?
Yes, that’s exactly what this is, and I refuse to allow myself to be his weapon.
I look him square in the eyes and suck him all the way to the back of my throat. His composure shatters. He drops his head back with a roar as I take over, gripping his balls in one hand while squeezing the base of his shaft with the other. I lick and suck and twist every masculine inch of him until I feel his balls pull tighter. His shaft swells even thicker, and I know he’s seconds from exploding. That’s when I pull away.
“Fuck.” His violent curse shakes the rafters. “What is it, Danika? Can’t stand the thought of my cum on your tongue?” he asks viciously, chest heaving.
I wipe my mouth and shake my head before lying on my back before him. “You said the first time would be inside me. You promised.” I know how much this means to him, and I won’t let him deny himself.
I spread my bent knees wide to present him with my weeping core. “Please, Tommy,” I beg softly. I want him to hear the sincerity in my voice and know that I want this just as much as he does.
With a growl, he kicks off his shoes to free himself from his pants, then aligns his body with mine. He doesn’t wait or ask permission. He simply surges inside me.
My entire body seizes from the painful intrusion, and he seems to sense the hurt he’s caused because he freezes with his shaft buried deep inside me. His forearm slides behind my neck to cradle my head, his lips pressing a kiss to my forehead.
“I didn’t just…” His ragged question fades away as if unable to say the words.
“No, but it’s been a while.” I’m not a virgin. I would have said something if I were. “I’m okay, now, I think.”
Tension eases from his body, and he starts to slowly rock inside me. He keeps our bodies held tightly together and continues to hold my head as though trying to protect me from himself. I know why when slow and steady quickly escalates to hard and fast. Tommy fucks me with rabid desperation, so intense that it doesn’t last long. My body is just blossoming with sensation when he stiffens and moans his release, cum jetting inside me.
Relief washes over me. This may not be the ideal start to our marriage, but it could have been so much worse, considering the way things were going.
We lay still for several minutes as he recovers. I expect him to pull away at any second, and I wonder which Tommy I’ll see in his eyes, but that doesn’t happen.
I arch and moan as he starts to move inside me again, already thick and hungry for more.
“Tommy, we’re gonna make a mess,” I say distractedly, worrying about his gorgeous rug.
“Don’t give a fuck.”
After a minute, he pulls back to his knees and grabs a pillow from the sofa. “Lift,” he instructs.
I bridge to lift my butt off the ground. He puts the pillow under me, then admires the view of my well-fucked pussy. I imagine it’s red and swollen and glistening with our combined juices.
A rumbling sound of masculine pride resonates from deep in his chest.
“This is mine, Danika.” His finger enters me, then glides up to swirl around my clit.
I writhe from the pleasure. “Yes, Tommy. I’m yours.”
“Say it again,” he demands.
“I’m yours.”
His touch feels so good that I clamber for more. My hands go to my breasts and tease my nipples while his agile fingers work miracles at my center until I’m panting and shaking and begging to come. That’s when he fills me with his cock and fucks me on his knees so that I have an incredible view of his body towering over me, hands clamped on my hips, driving himself into me. The coil of hard-earned muscle, the smattering of masculine hair, the branding touch of his savage stare—everything that is Tommy heightens my pleasure until I’m shattering like a thousand shooting stars across a cloudless night sky.
We come together, squeezing and panting. Worshipping and claiming.
His body lowers to rest over mine, holding me close again. Too soon, he’s pulling free of me, helping me to my feet. He treats me gingerly, but he’s still not himself. Part of him is still a million miles away.
