“Let me make you come.” I like that he’s asking, not taking, because we both know unless he says something truly awful in the next minute, I’m done resisting.
I want an orgasm, but more than that, I want him.
Yes, he’s infuriating, controlling, and obnoxious as hell most of the time, but he’s no longer my enemy.
When I don’t reply, mostly because my brain has seized, he rocks his hips again. The subtle pressure causes my brain to basically melt into a puddle of lustful goo, and this time I moan louder. There are two layers of fabric between us, but I can feel every inch of him.
My pussy gushes. It’s a wonder I’m not lying in a wet spot. I’d like to blame the alcohol I consumed at the party, and also the shock of my confrontation with Lorenzo, but that would be a lie.
This is all me. Apparently, I’m a wanton slut for my husband.
Who’d have thought I’d ever have that thought in my head? Not me, that’s for sure.
“Please,” I gasp when he rocks against me, using his hard cock to rub my needy little clit.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he croons in my ear, still resting his weight over me but not on me. The hard planes of his chest brush against my nipples as he rolls his hips again. It’s torture of the best kind, but not even close to what I want.
“I want to fucking come, you asshole,” I snap, not amused that he’s edging me so effectively. I hate edging, I decide. It’s inhumane. Likely against the Geneva Convention.
Before I can lob more insults at him for not doing what he promised, he slides back down the bed, taking the covers with him.
Somehow, perhaps by sleight of hand, when I look down I realize the tee he lent me is now caught up around my tits, leaving my soft belly and lace-covered pussy on display.
There is very little light in this bedroom, but Angelo seems entranced by my pussy.
“Who bought you these?” he says, staring at the tiny scrap of red lace and silk.
“Luka.” He loves to buy pretty lingerie for me. Mostly so he has the pleasure of removing it.
Naturally, that answer displeases Angelo. He hooks his fingers under the ribbons across my hips andsnap -the panties are no more.
“I liked that pair!” God, why do men have to be so territorial? Despite how much I want his hands, mouth, and cock, I’m sorely tempted to tell him to go fuck himself right now.
“I’ll buy you more panties, princess,” he promises before spreading my thighs and lowering his mouth to my pussy.
Any insults and threats I had lined up all fade into the ether. The hot, wet sensation of his tongue as he licks me and caresses my clit wipes my brain.Again.
It’s as if he’s memorized the how-to manual on pleasing me. There’s no awkward fumbling around or teasing. He senses what I want and acts on it.
Because he hasn’t shaved, my inner thighs are soon red-raw from stubble rash, but I don’t care. And he doesn’t seem to care that my thighs lock around his head as I try desperately to find my release.
Only each time I hover on the brink of an orgasm, he backs off.
Yeah…edging. It’s like he’s punishing me for not behaving tonight.
The bastard.
I fucking hate him!
When he backs off for the millionth time, I scream and try to punch him, but he just laughs.
“You don’t get to come until I decide, princess.” Here we go again. “I want you to come on my dick.”
I beg, plead, and threaten some more untilfinally,he takes pity on me. He slides back up my body and shoves my tee up higher so he can suck my breasts. Each long, slow suck drives me even more insane.
Even Luka isn’t this cruel. He likes to tease, but not to this extent.
By the time Angelo’s sucked my tits to his satisfaction, my whole body is taut with need, and my pussy aches so much it’s painful.
