I look up at him then, searching his face. This was... what? It feels like I’m agreeing to more somehow, but I’m past thinking clearly, so I nod instead, rising on my elbows and kissing him. "Please be inside me, Alastair."
With a pleased growl, he does, pushing in slowly as my thighs tighten and then relax against his waist. When my moans grow too loud for him to ignore, my hands pulling and clinging to his shoulders, he plows through my pussy eagerly, over and over while he listens to me moan as I feel the stretch and pull of his cock inside me, circling his hips to gain access to every inch of my channel.
"God, the way you shape around me," he groans, "it's heaven. Your heat and silk..." he thrusts harder, forgetting that he might be hurting me, only thinking about how good it felt to be inside his Sorcha, how perfect I am and how he'd never felt home inside another woman. Not like this. Nothing like this.
Alastair doesn’t realize he's said all that out loud until I hug him harder.
“Yes, please,” I manage to moan, “Please, stay inside me. Fill me up.” He shudders as if he’d nearly come, but holds himself still for a moment.
“Such a very good girl,” he says a little hoarsely, “such delightful, filthy words.” Pulling me up as he goes back on his heels, he pushes his hips forward to line his wide head up to the opening of my slick channel again and begins sliding up inside me. “The shape of you,” he groans, “the way you fit around my cock, wrapping so wet and tight.”
He’s thick, this beautiful man, so intrusive with his shaft forcing my walls to part for him and pressing against all those tender and secret spots inside that make me gasp and moan for him. I can feel the muscles in his flat stomach tighten as he slides inside another inch.
I look down, making an embarrassing little whimper of pleasure as I see half of his thick shaft still outside me. It feels like a bit like a spike, driving higher than I could possibly have room leftto accommodate him. Alastair always seems to know when it’s overwhelming me and he pauses, flexing slightly inside me but rubbing my back, humming a little. His cock continues sliding along my sensitive walls when my arms loosen a little.
"You're like satin, inside," he soothes in his beautiful, dark voice, "pulsing around me, so slick." He moves me up slightly, altering the movement of his driving cock. "When I press here..." he does it again as I moan for him. “I can push farther still, into the deepest part of you... there's a little hollow, the last bit of you where I can wedge my cock."
My entire body stiffens and my back arches, a weak exhale of breath as I feel the heated head of his shaft rub enticingly inside me - up to my belly button surely - and then he just... holds.
My thighs are shaking, holding the sheer weight, the thickness of his cock inside me and he isn’t moving, just holding me still with his hands on my arse, squeezing and stroking as he keeps the position, spreading my insides so widely. We both stay motionless in the moment until I make a small, desperate noise and try to rise up a little.
"Ah, no, darling..." that mesmerizing voice whispering in my ear again, lovely filth about how beautiful I am and so sweet, how much he needs and wants me, and how very, very good I feel.
My husband stays pressed deeply inside my channel, rotating his hips very slightly, the pressure so intense that even a millimeter of movement seems to push against all the most sensitive bits inside me and makes me shudder and sigh. His sonorous voice and lurid compliments make me half-insane with need, knowing that he can make me ready to come just by speaking to me this way.
"Patience..." he whispers, "hold for me, my sweet bride."
My focus narrows down to his wide, heavy shaft pushed halfway through my body, and how even the slightest movement of his lean hips feels like fire stroking inside me.
"I treasure you so, Sorcha," he finally growls, "I want to be inside you every moment, keep us mated so tightly that nothing can touch you." I hear his breathing begin to speed up as he runs his hands up and down my spine. "I do believe that I can make you come with one more rotation of my cock rubbing the very top of you. Shall we see?"
Oh, my god he is going to kill me,I think, dizzy with need, wanting him to come, wanting him to let me come, needing to feel the heat of him pulse inside me. This cruel, beautiful, perfect man makes just the slightest movement that seems to stroke along every nerve ending inside me, and as I feel the sudden, impossible swelling of his cock that meant my husband is coming inside me, with a soundless gasp, I come too.
***
Something is up with Alastair.
I watch him suspiciously over my cup of tea, which he insists on making for me every morning. He’s in a suit as always, but he’s unbent enoughto not wear a tie.
Is this significant? I don’t know but it seems so out of character.
“Are you feeling all right this morning?”
He looks up from his iPad. “Yes, darling. I’m well. How do you feel? Actually…” the smug bastard leans back in his chair, running his finger that had been inside me over his lip, like he’s scenting me, “I know how you feel. So deep, so warm and tight…” He groans slightly and the sound shoots straight to my somewhat abused center. “But are you well?”
Will my husband never stop embarrassing me?
“No, most likely,” he says with an utterly shameless smirk. “And yes, you said that out loud, darling.”
“Ach, let’s talk about something else.” My voice is embarrassingly shrill. “What are your plans for today?”
“Today?” He smiles gently, like he knows something that I don’t. “I’m spending the day with you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, sweet girl. It’s going to be a busy day,” he says, gaze drifting back to his iPad.
I eat my oatmeal with cinnamon and chopped walnuts, pondering what the hell is going on with him.
