Page 90 of Isle of Beauty

She doesn’t hesitate. The word husband on her tongue is a balm to my heart and a shock of electricity straight to my cock. She dragged me here with a single minded focus and I’m more than happy to oblige and show my little wife that she’s mine. And I’m hers. Forever.

“Your wish is my command. Put your heels on my shoulders.”

I get to my knees, kissing her inner thighs gently, reverently, communicating all the love and respect I have for her. I’ll gladly be on my knees for her for the rest of my life. She huffs with frustration when I circle around where she wants me most, kissing her mound, the place her legs meet the rest of the body, on top of her pretty white thong.

Fuck, she’s wet. Everytime I’m reminding myself this is all for me. I remove her legs from my shoulder for a brief moment, gliding the fabric down her legs.

“I’m keeping this,” I tell her and she rolls her eyes and smiles, before positioning her heels back on me.

Before I can tease her more, she gets a hold of my hair and pulls me to her clit with force. I love when she lets me dominate her but fuck, it’s so hot when she takes control.

I lick her from entrance to clit, moaning when my tongue meets her wetness. Her hold on my hair tightens, shooting heat down my spine at the small flash of pain. I press the flat of my tongue to her clit, flicking it fast and hard. She rocks her hips to meet me, lost to her desire and the view from down here is going to be burnt in my retina.

Half naked, legs wide open for me, still wearing the dress she married me in, eyes fixated on me, cheeks and chest blushing, and insanely hot moans coming from her lips.

Her legs start to quiver and I know she’s close. I don’t let up and push a finger in, gently coaxing her to climax. She explodes on my tongue, her breaths now short gasps. I’m ready to stay there and do it all over again, as much as she wants to feel fully satisfied but my little wife has other ideas, tugging on my hair to come up.

My lips meet hers again, letting her taste herself on my tongue, my hands bracketing her face like she is something precious. Because she fucking is. She’s everything.

I turn her around roughly, setting her on the ground, her back pressed to my front, to face the mirror. While I bunch up her dress that just fell back down, I whisper in her ear, “Does my needy little wife need to get fucked?”

“Yes,” she rasps.

Her body immediately responds, goosebumps lining all inches of skin. I tear my belt buckle and slacks open to free myself then line my cock at her core, pressing in in one agonisingly slow thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, wife”.

She’s moaning mindlessly, head falling down. I grab a fistful of her hair, happy she left it free today, and lift it up to look at her in the mirror. Our eyes converge to each other immediately.

“Eyes on me, mo cara. Look how good you take your husband’s cock. Play with your clit, baby, make yourself come all over me.”

She obeys and snakes her hand where I can’t see it in the mirror but I’m focused on her face anyway, the pleasure clear as day on her delicate features. Her eyes are bright with exhilaration, mouth open, letting me pound into her at a pace that drives us both mad with need. One of my hands reaches for her nipple, the other around her throat in a primal gesture that satisfies me like nothing ever has.

Lana surprises me when she lifts on her tiptoes and places a knee onto the edge of the sink, arching her back further. I groan loudly, going deeper inside her, but my wife meets me thrust for thrust.

She climaxes with my name on her lips, eyes latched on mine in the mirror, pulsating around my cock, and taking me over the edge with her. I let go fully, both hands coming to her hips in a bruising grip that will leave marks. I know we’ll both love to look at them later too.

When my orgasm recedes, my forehead hits between her shoulder blades. I feel weak in the knees, completely empty of any worry. She’s taken everything from me and I’ll gladly give her more.

“Do you think anyone heard us?”

She giggles, like the prospect of being caught having sex with her husband is the funniest thing she can make up. I smile at her, cleaning her up the best I can in the small bathroom before retying the knot at her neck.

“I don’t give a shit who heard us. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

“You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

THE END.