“You’re so fucking tight.” His free hand comes up to my cup my jaw, stroking over my lips tenderly before pushing into my mouth with his thumb.
I moan around his thumb, unable to contain myself as desire flares. It’s so intimate. He’s in my mouth and right at my core, driving to be closer.
“Not so much my wife as my little hussy, aren’t you?” he teases. “Needy for your husband’s cock.”
My pussy releases. The pain goes and Nikolai slides deeper. The pressure, the fullness. Everything is so good. His cock leaves no room for doubt. There’s just me and him and a future full of babies and laughter and days on the beach.
“That’s it,” he groans as I whimper. “Take it. You want me to fill you up until you don’t know where you end and I begin, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I flex my hands against his grip, and close my lips around his thumb and suck. It sounds insane but I love that he’s got me totally held. I don’t have to take any responsibility for what’s happening. There’s no question about whether I’m doing it right, because he is doing this to me.
With his ability to read my emotions after so much time of us talking and him watching me, he dips his head and whispers into my ear, slipping his hand from my mouth. “Doing okay, ptichka? Does it hurt?”
“It’s amazing,” I reply, equally low, before nipping his ear. He chuckles and punches his hips forward, hard. Pleasure and pain flares from my pussy outwards then smooths as he eases back and thrusts again. I relish both. The next thrust is just pleasure as he opens me up.
This game is making me even hotter, winding me with more and more need.
He’s hiding his gentle questions and caring words, partitioning them off from the dominant lover. My husband is huge and solid and hot inside me and with every gliding roll of his hips over me, each time he pushes me mercilessly into the mattress I want him more.
“You’re taking all of me like such a good girl.” He smiles, feral and dangerous. “So you can have a treat. I’m going to take more. Open up.”
He shifts one of my knees up, and I mirror the movement on the other side. I spread my legs wider and accept more of him, opening myself up completely.
“That’s it. You’re my best girl, so tight and wet. Trust me to make it good for you.”
Keeping my hands trapped, he changes the angle of his hips, so the head of his cock is rubbing right at my entrance, over and over, as his hand explores one side of what of my body is exposed. The pushed-out swell of my breast, my waist, my hip. But it’s the shallow thrust of his cock that’s driving me wild, stimulating parts of me which were dormant before he discovered them.
It’s good, so good, winding me up and up, but not quite enough, and when he adjusts again, thrusting further in, I sob at the change. It’s more satisfying, and I love it, but I need that spiralling pleasure.
“Who owns you?” he demands, releasing my hands to hold himself up on one forearm and reaching down with the other. His breath is hot on my lips, his body heavy, brutal almost with every thrust.
“You.” I can feel him at my belly button. He’s rearranging my insides and adding a physical joining to how our hearts are combined, and our lives now that he’s my husband.
“I own you. You’re mine to please.” He crams his fingers between our bodies in the space between thrusts, further and further, patient, until the push becomes a slide from the moisture seeping out from me. Then he’s stroking my clit in circles and watching my eyes, a greedy expression on his face. And I ignite. I don’t know how he’s doing it. Maybe the combination of me being insanely turned on, and him being thick and hard, rubbing just the right spot. I’m surrounded by him, his weight over me, his cock inside me, and his fingers pressing my clit in a way that has me on the edge of coming, the pleasure stacking up.
“Tell me. Scream it,” he growls into my ear. “I want everyone to know I own you. Your beautiful body. Your heart. Your soul.” He keeps up the rhythm of his body into mine, playing me.
“You do!” It’s a sob. “You own me. Nikolai, oh!” And that is as much verbalisation as I can manage before I come. The release is a shuddering, rolling, white heat through my body, from my clit all the way to my toes.
He coaches me through the pleasure, whispering sweet words of love and affection that I barely hear through the rush of blood.
“Oh god,” I breathe. “That was…”
“Nope,” he says with smug amusement. “Yourhusband.”
“Oh husband,” Laughter erupts from my chest. “Oh. My. Husband.”
“Ptichka.” He grins and rolls us over, so I’m laid on him, boneless from the orgasm that is still singing in my blood. Because he’s magic, his hard cock is wedged right where I need him. An anchor. “Hearing you laugh is almost as good as feeling you come on my cock.”
“Really?” I rub my face on his chest, the soft skin a delicious contrast with his light scattering of black hair.
“Yep.” It’s only then I notice he’s piling the pillows at his back, so he is moving us so I’m sitting on his lap.
“Now, wife.” He gathers up my hair in his hands and tugs. I gasp as the slight pinpricks and the tightening on my scalp sends pleasurable shivers all down my spine. My head tilts back, even as I lean into him, chasing the sensation of my hair being pulled.
“Such a delightful slut,” he says affectionately, forcing my gaze to his silver one. How did I ever think his eyes were stone? They’re full of mirth and love, and I can see that it was determination, not hostility, that made his eyes grey rather than silver when we first met in person.
“I need to feel you come on my cock again. You can do one more for me before I fill you up. And this time, I want you to do it.”
