Page 111 of Marry Lies
Watching as one of his hands pumps into me—watching as the other one runs up and down his cock with fervor. My chest is flushed, and my legs are still shaking. It’s highly erotic—watching my husband pleasure himself while he pleasures me. I let out a low moan as he inserts another finger, curving them both inside of me so that they massage my inner walls, clawing pleasure from me. The feel of his flat tongue against my clit mixed with the way his hand drives into me, curling his finger when he pulls out and twisting slightly when he thrusts them into me…
“Miles,” I whimper.
“Your hot cunt is squeezing me, butterfly. Let go. I want all of you, every last drop. If my sleeves are dry when you’re done screaming my name, I haven’t done my job well enough.”
Fucking hell…
“Oh god,” I cry out, feeling the way I’m fluttering against his fingers.
He dips his head and his teeth barely graze my clit before I shatter under him. My body convulses as wave after wave of my climax work through me, and then that unfamiliar sense of pressure begins to build, heightening everything.
“Miles—” I warn.
“That’s it, Estelle. Relax,” he murmurs, doing something inside of me with his fingers that sends my hips flying up against his mouth–almost like he’s scissoring them inside of me. The sensation is…God.
Closing my eyes, I scream as something unleashes, the dam breaking quickly and forcefully. My legs attempt to close on instinct. It’s too much, too powerful. But Miles’s elbow holds them open as a stronger orgasm works through me. I instantly feel wet all over, trembling as Miles slows his hand, drawing the last of it out of me.
“Fuck yes,” Miles rasps. “This is so fucking hot. You’re going to make me come—” He sits up and hovers over me a bit so that I can see him work himself to a climax. “Where do you want me, butterfly?”
On shaky elbows, I lift myself up and scoot back a bit, spreading my legs for him.
His eyes flash to mine, widening slightly. His neck is flushed with exertion, and I love the way he’s still fully clothed as he hovers over my naked lower half.
“I don’t think you could be any more perfect.” He groans as hot jets of cum land between us on my exposed pussy. Some lands on my stomach, and I watch as he covers my body with his spend.
He twitches a few times before collapsing next to me.
I roll over to face him, breathing heavily. He’s still panting as he tucks himself away, rolling to face me.
Without a word, he reaches out and rubs his cum into my skin.
“I think I have a new kink,” he murmurs.
I grin. “Oh yeah?”
“You look so fucking good with my cum painted all over your body.”
I pull my lower lip between my teeth. Truth be told, I always found spunk to be gross before Miles. It was always just a consequence of having a coil with past partners—I didn’t enjoy johnnies so I always had to waddle to the bathroom after the act. But this? I’m finding that I don’t mind Miles claiming me in this primitive way. It makesmehappy when he’s happy, and this seems to make him happy.
“I don’t mind it,” I tell him, leaning over to kiss him.
He kisses me back, pulling my face close as his fingers curl around my hair possessively.
“Let me clean you up,” he says quickly, pulling away and rolling off the bed.
I watch as he walks to our shared bathroom, coming back out a moment later with a damp washcloth.
I swallow as he dips between my legs, lovingly cleaning me from my stomach and down to my slit. He lets out a barely audible moan as he does, moving me slightly.
“You ruined this bedspread,” he says, his voice low and guttural. “We’ll have to get a new one. That’s too bad,” he adds, a small smile playing on his lips as he discards the washcloth. The air is cold on my wet skin, and when I look down, I see what he’s talking about.
“How is that possible?” I ask, slightly embarrassed.
He grunts as he begins to undress. “Consider yourself lucky, Estelle. Most women would kill to come as hard as you do.” Sliding his belt through his belt loops, I watch as my husband starts to take his clothes off, studying his movements as he does.
I’m overcome with something oddly domestic.
I watched him dress, and now I’m watching him undress.
