Page 91 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
Andreas
My wife is pure light when we land back in Boston and make our way home. I watch her bounce out to the garden in search of Viola then I take our bags upstairs to our bedroom. Since she broke down over my thighs, she’s been a new person. Vulnerable, yet strong, fractured, yet whole.
I fingered her twice this morning and again on the flight, bringing her total orgasms to fifty-four. Perfect. The next time I get my hands on her naked flesh, I’ll be making hermine. Just like she’s been begging me to for weeks.
I sit at the dinner table and listen to her regale Viola with tales of our visit to Washington, the sights we saw together. Every now and then, Viola flicks a glance my way, one that is filled with warmth. She knows howlong I’ve wanted this—a love of my own. And now that I have it, I am never letting her go.
When night falls, I pour out two glasses of champagne and ask Sera to join me upstairs. She follows with a skip in her step, not at all expecting what I have planned for her. She’s still talking at a million miles an hour when I hand her the flute and tap my glass against hers.
“What are we celebrating?” she asks, beaming.
I take a slow sip, watching her over the rim of my flute.
I swallow and lick my lips, lifting my lashes. “This isn’t a celebration. I’m loosening you up.”
Her eyes pop wide open. “Tonight? But, I still have?—”
“You’ll need those,” I reply. She needs at least two orgasms before I impale her on my cock. I’ve watched grown women cry in pain when I’ve fucked them without due preparation. I won’t have my wife sobbing through her first time with me.
She holds my gaze and gulps down her champagne, then holds her glass out for more. I shake my head. I don’t fuck drunk women. One glass is enough for now.
“Can I at least get changed?” she asks, timidly.
“Be my guest.”
I smile to myself as she ducks into the bathroom. I turn down the lamps and light her favorite candle. It will all be irrelevant when we start though. I want her single-mindedly focused on her pleasure.
She emerges from the bathroom in a lingerie set that—fuck—should be illegal. Pure white lace plunge bra pushing her soft, generous breasts together, and a pair of boy shorts with bows leading from the waistband to her opening, like a little forbidden footpath. Her hair is loose and tossed down her back, her Jessica Rabbit waist tucked in above mouthwateringly voluptuous hips.
I shake my head. This woman’s body could make a grown man cry and she has absolutely no idea.
My blood pulses restlessly with lust.
Pointing to the bed, I make a feral grunting sound. She passes me, wafting her lemon verbena scent beneath my nostrils. I follow her, my bare chest almost touching her back. I push her gently onto the bed and set to work immediately on her mouth.
She laughs gorgeously against my lips—she knows she’s the one in control now. I don’t care, she can have it. I lost my control around her when she slid across a wet floor and landed in my arms. I can’t believe she’s here, beneath me, caressing me with her delicate nails, wearingmyring, bracing herself for my cock.
My head fills with clouds as I kiss her deeply, rubbing my thick thigh up against her clit. She starts panting straight away, the giggles turning to gasps. I sweep my tongue into her mouth and draw a whispered moan from her throat and a soft climax from her core.
I flip her onto her stomach and nudge her legs apart with my knee, then I dig my hips into the mattress, shoving my cock beneath her. If I’m not careful, this could end me and the game will be over before it’s even started.
I slide through her folds, my thick length shoving up into her clit again. She gasps in shock. We haven’t done it this way before. Taking a heavy palm I push down on her lower back, pressing her hard onto my cock, then I thrust back and forth, stimulating her clit. She moans incoherently and I know she’s close again. It would only take a slight pull too far and I’d slip inside her. I pump my hips, my glutes tensing with each thrust, with unwavering focus.
When I feel her tremble, I remove my hand from her back and pull back completely, getting to my hands and knees. Just as she emits a frustrated groan I shove my tongue into her opening. Her fingers curl into the comforter and she whimpers faintly. Even this is a delicate balancing act. I want to eat her with abandon but I don’t want to lick away her arousal—she’s going to need every bit she can get.
When she starts to move, gyrating her hips to deepen my tongue I flip her over.
Her face is blotchy with need, her eyes glassy.
“Why are you being such an asshole?” she breathes.
My composure collapses and I laugh out loud.
She groans. “Just let me come already.”
I reach down and hold the crown of my cock against her clit, then I lower my lips to hers.
“Fuck my mouth, baby.”
