Page 140 of Unholy Union
It’s the end of the night and my dress is strewn across the chair in the corner. We’ve made it home from dinner and the jazz club, and Cato has me trapped on our bed.
Like with most of the things we’ve done since getting married, I had never had a man eat my pussy before Cato.
But it’s quickly become one of my favorites.
His tongue strokes my clit in torturous motions. He goes from slow and deliberate to fast and intense, flicking at the aching bundle of nerves.
Then right when I’m moaning and panting for air, he switches it up again. He applies more pressure. He adds more fingers.
Sucks my clit between his lips and makes my eyes roll into the back of my head.
I grind my hips against his face, legs slung over his shoulders and fingers twisted in his silky dark hair.
Heat spreads from the inside out. It radiates from my pussy then floods the rest of me.
His tongue flattens against my clit and he uses it like it’s a weapon. The friction becomes unbearable, a pulsing tension building in my pussy.
I thrash and buck my hips, demanding more.
Cato’s hands are quick to grab hold and pin them back down.
“Patience,” he says in his usual calm yet commanding tone. His breath is warm against my achy pussy and makes me shudder. “Don’t make me punish you, principessa.”
I let out a petulant whimper but do as I’m told. He presses his lips to my clit like a kiss, his dark eyes set on me.
He’s definitely taunting me, taking his sweet freaking time!
“Cato…” I whine.
He chuckles, slapping a hand to my pussy which turns my whimper into more of a squeal. “Impatient little thing. Is your cunt that greedy? You can’t wait to get off?”
He dives back in with more fervor than ever before. His tongue licks away with long, decadent strokes that have my back arching off the bed again despite his grip on my hips.
Every pass of his tongue is designed to unravel me. Every suck of my clit pushes me closer to the edge. He slides two fingers inside my pussy, curling them deep as he suckles away, and finally I can’t hold back any longer.
A trembling sob bursts out of me. My thighs quiver as the pressure inside me snaps, and I come in a flood of heat.
Cato groans as I fall apart for him, sliding his fingers from deep inside me. He’s started squeezing his cock, already thick and hard.
I’m still shaking from my orgasm when he lines himself up and runs his dick along my entrance.
It only makes me shudder all over again.
My head tips back into the pillows, still so sensitive and flushed. He pushes in deep, stretching me open until I’m filled completely and weighed down by him on top of me.
It feels so good I moan and turn my head to the side like I can’t bear it.
Cato twines my curls in his hand and forces my face toward his, crushing a kiss to my lips.
He’s started moving inside me, his thrusts slow but deep and long. Each one presses to the back of me and builds on the same tantalizing pressure as before. My legs instinctively wrap around his back, and we lose ourselves in the rhythm of our bodies, mouths fused together as we do.
There’s no rush tonight as he strokes into me. No mind games or punishments.
Just him and me, celebrating six months of marriage. A milestone we weren’t even sure we’d ever reach given how much we hated each other in the beginning.
It still feels like a miracle we didn’t kill each other.
Cato spreads kisses from my mouth to my jaw, then the sensitive spot behind my ear. His voice is a low growl against my warm skin. “You feel so good like this… wrapped around me. Like you were made to take every inch.”
