I’ve never felt so ready to explode.
It’s like he’s torturing me like he does his victims.
I manage to break free from him, fall on the bed, and scoot to the head. I open my legs, ready for him to put me out of my misery. He pulls his shirt over his head, flinging it across the room, and kicks his shoes off before removing his pants.
My breaths come out ragged as he climbs between my legs. The warmth of his body is another relaxant, yet it also sends more heat through my body.
He guides his cock between my folds, dragging it teasingly through my wetness.
“Tell me this is what you want,” he says. “Tell your husband you want him to fuck you because you want this marriage.”
I grip his wrist, stopping him, and settle the head of his cock right at my opening. “I want my husband to fuck me tonight, and tomorrow, and for the rest of our lives …until death do we part.”
He thrusts his hips forward, so deep that my body inches up the bed.
I cry out in pain.
I bite into my lower lip and dig my nails into the comforter.
He stops, what just happened dawning on him as he stares down at me in shock. “You haven’t done this before?”
I slowly shake my head, surprised I’m not embarrassed telling him this.
Some of the tension releases from his body, as if he’s telling it he needs to be gentler.
What looks like pride or ownership spreads across his rough face.
He gradually pulls his cock from me and slowly dips it back inside, not going as deep as he did before.
His strokes are gentler, only moving a few inches more with each one.
He’s helping me adjust to his size.
To make this more comfortable for me.
Lowering his head, he kisses me, keeping his steady pace. I feel like I’m on top of the world as our hips meet each other’s, and he cups my breast.
“Your pussy feels perfect,” he says against my lips. “Everything about you is perfect, Liliya.” He raises his hand to my face before raining kisses along the other side of my jaw.
His body presses mine into the mattress, and as each minute passes, our breathing grows heavier.
His strokes grow faster.
I start meeting him thrust for thrust.
Lifting my gaze, I stare up at my husband as he grinds into me.
He’s not a hero in a tale, but he isn’t the monster either.
He’s a flawed man who grew up in a dark world.
It’s what gave him the gray parts.
But it’s what makes my husband who he is.
Just like before, it’s as if he knows my body so damn well that it doesn’t take long for me to lose control again. I dig my nails into his back as waves of warmth flood through me.
“Emilio,” I say, moaning into his shoulder as he shoves his face into mine.
