I reach back and tug at her dress, watching the bodice loosen enough to reveal those perfect breasts and the pink, pebbled nipples. My cock grows yet another inch as I take her in, my hands shaking with the desperate need to touch, to brand her as mine.
“This is your only chance to push me away, Sofia." I cup her chin and pull her gaze back to mine when it drops. "Tell me to stop, and I will."
“It’s my wifely duty–”
“That’s not what I said."
Those stubborn eyes light up with desire, but I don’t make any move based on what her expression is telling me. I wait, watching those gorgeous eyes, falling deeper into their depths. When she finally speaks, I’m ready to snap.
“Don’t stop,” she says shyly, dropping her hands to the lapel of my jacket, tugging at the material, "I don't want you to."
My mouth is on hers before she can say another word, fingers sliding into her hair and tugging for her to open up. Her mouth parts for me with a moan, gripping my jacket as she rises to kiss me. Christ, the taste of her is intoxicating. I didn’t have much to drink tonight, and the red wine on her lips sends my head spinning, or maybe it’s just the taste of her.
My bride.
My wife.
I pull back to stare down at her. I can't help myself. I was never a relationship man. Women, beautiful creatures as they are, often felt like a distraction I couldn’t afford. There were never expectations beyond what either party could give. No lies or promises were traded.
I’ve promised my life to this girl. With her beautiful eyes and a mouth made for kissing, I’ve vowed my unwavering loyalty to her.
Mine.
“I need to taste you,” I rasp, dipping my mouth back to hers, dragging it greedily over hers and swallowing the little sighs she makes. My breathing is ragged when I break the kiss to trail my mouth down her neck, tugging at her hair to tilt her head back and allow me access. I lick a path down her silky skin, groaning at the scent of her, the taste of her, and the way she responds to every caress. The need for more sends me dropping to my knees and shoving up the heavy hem of her gown with my thoughts set on the prize, on finally tasting the heaven that lies between her thighs. But I stop when I spot something.
A small band of fabric wrapped around her thigh. She didn’t have the lacy little garter earlier when I kissed her in the bridal suite.
“It’s a wedding tradition,” she says defensively before I can ask. “I… I was told every bride is required to wear one and the husband gets to take off, but… oh!” she gasps when I lean in and bite the lacy little thing, slowly peeling it down her thigh to pool around her ankle.
“Consider that wedding tradition covered,” I rasp, my own breath labored as I look up at her. I keep my eyes on hers as I lean in and trail my tongue up the inside of her thighs, nudging them wider apart as I move up. “I’m going to show you yet another wedding tradition, Sofia.”
“What tradition?”
“The one where a husband gets to do this.” I slide a hand deeper into the dress and grab the waistband of her panties before tugging them down her hips. The flimsy little thing drops to her ankles, next to the garter. She steps out of them when I shove her thighs wider apart, my eyes locked on her clean-shaven pussy. “You have no fucking idea how many times I imagined doing this to you at the wedding.” I lean forward and press my nose against her sex, inhaling the sweet scent of her arousal. Whatever patience I thought I had disappears as my need for her grows.
Mine.
My bride. My wife.
Tesoro mio.My treasure.
With a growl, I push in and slide my tongue over the seam of her pussy, teasing her to open for me. She jolts, her hips widening. Crying out when I press my face deeper between her legs, my tongue seeking, desperate for her honey. I release the hold I have around the hem of her wedding gown and the dress falls around me, curtaining my head, but I am far too gone to care about the cover of darkness. I don’t need to see when I can feel… taste.
I close my eyes and start licking through the wet valley of her pussy, groaning at the taste of her. Sweet, salty, and tangy. The sweetest thing I've ever tasted on my tongue. I grip her knee and drape it over my shoulder, exposing her further as I pushin for more, feeling her jolt against me. Her broken sobs barely break through the fog in my head. “Matteo… Oh God!”
She chants my name, like a prayer. Pleading for the release only I can grant her!
My cock aches in my pants but I ignore the persistent throbbing as I focus on her, eating her pussy like I’m starved. I groan as I drag my tongue from top to bottom, lapping at her arousal, but I can't get enough. There is an animal, deep and insatiable, in my chest that roars for more.
“Oh… Oh God!” she cries out when I suck her clit between my lips, batting the bundle of nerves in slow strokes as my middle finger finds her entrance. I suckle gently on her clit as I push into her wet sex, but I barely have the tip in before I hit a barrier.
Fuck!
Jesus Christ!
She’s a virgin.
It never occurred to me. Not once did I think that my bride, perfect as she is, would be a virgin. Hell, she spent her entire adult life away from home with enough freedom to do whatever she wanted, and she… it can’t be.
