“Yes?” She sounds wary, like I’ve reprimanded her and she doesn’t know why.
“I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re this wet?” I press a finger inside of her without warning and her back arches with a surprised moan. “Have you been with anyone since Christmas?” I ask, maybe to torture myself.
“No,” she breathes. “You?”
“No,” I answer honestly. It’s been much, much longer than that—not since before the first night she stepped into my club early last year, but I do not tell her this.
Instead, I drop my face where my finger resides and start licking her there, long strokes up her center before swirling around her clit. My jaw and cheeks are covered in a light stubble by now, and I’m aware of the scrape it must be against her smooth thighs, but there’s no stopping me now. The taste of her makes me unbearably harder.
“Maxim,” she moans. I suck her clit hard, brushing my teeth against the sensitive nub and her hands thread through my hair.
“Like this?” I repeat, the refrain like a taunt.
“You’re good at that.”
I grunt and attack with new fervor, watching her face for signs of just what she likes until she’s writhing and gasping beneath my mouth. My cock aches, I could come just from rubbing it against the mattress while eating her like this, but I will not.
My hands travel up Marianna’s body, one grabbing a breast and squeezing, the other coasting down her stomach, around the curve of her ass.
When I feel her climbing toward the edge of her release, little halting gasps coming out of her mouth, I press two fingers into her and we both groan, like it gives me just as much relief as it does her in this moment.
I pump my fingers against the soft spot inside of her while I suck and her breathing stutters as she falls over the edge, clamping down hard on my fingers in a way that makes me groan again. I lick her long after her heavy breathing settles.
“Good,” I grunt, and rub soothing circles over her outer thigh. She lets out a laugh and lifts her head to look down at me.
“I didn’t do anything,” she says.
I take one last lick up her center, dipping my tongue into the space my fingers just vacated, before crawling up the bed until my face hovers just over hers.
She lifts her head toward me, imploring for a kiss, but if I kiss her now—her taste still on my tongue—I might perish. I track the movement of her tongue darting out to lick her lips, and it breaks my resolve. My mouth presses firmly against hers, my tongue pressing into her mouth with zero finesse. It’s been a long time since I kissed someone new, since I’ve had to learn what their mouth tastes like. The taste of her, ofall of her, is better than anything I could have imagined.
She kisses me back with the same fervor and wraps her legs around my waist, trying to pull me closer.
“You took mine off, now yours,” she says between kiss after searing kiss. “The boxer briefs have to go.”
“What do you say?” My mouth presses long and hard against hers and she pulls back with a frustrated groan.
“Please,” she mocks. I reach between us to pinch her nipple, not lightly. “Fuck, okay, please, Maxim, take off the stupid underwear so you can fuck your wife. Please.”
I pinch her again, but crawl off of her to remove the offending garment. As soon as I do, though, Marianna looks startled at the sight of me.
I think this is a compliment.
She blinks, and I let her stare at my groin. I wish I could read her mind, but she rolls onto her hands and knees and approaches me with a single intent in her eyes, I shake my head.
“Don’t,” I warn. Her eyes leave my cock to meet my gaze in confusion. “Not tonight.”
She frowns, her swollen lower lip pressing out further.
“And why not?” She reaches out and lightly grazes the soft skin of my cock. It twitches beneath her touch and I try not to hiss.
My tentative composure is back in place, but fuckingbarely.
She wraps her hand around me and slides her grip up the length. I suck in a breath through my teeth and a pleased smile lifts her lips.
“Brat,” I mutter and crowd her until she falls back onto the bed again. As soon as I’m lying next to her, Marianna pushes my shoulder and crawls on top of me, her legs gripping my hips.
“I think a wife should be able to blow her husband,” she muses. She looks about ready to shimmy down my body to do just that when I grip her hair at the nape of her neck to keep her still. “I won’t bite.”
