He grazes my clit as he strokes his touch higher, under my skirt, to caress my bare bump. “And who loves this pregnant belly?”
“You do.”
“That’s fucking right.” He kisses my hip, then lies down in front of the mirror. He’s so long his legs hang over the stairs, knees bending so his feet rest on the second top step. “Sit on my face, Dr. Francesca.”
Heat rolls through me as I lower myself to kneel on either side of his head.
"That's it. Good girl. Now let me see you." He brushes his thumbs against my pussy lips, stroking me wide open for his gaze first, then his lips as he kisses me there. Just once. A brief tease before he looks back up at me and gets bossy again. “Watch yourself in the mirror."
I’m so close to it that all I can mostly see is my lust-blown face, but the rest of the image is beautifully erotic—me kneeling over my husband's face, dress hiked up, pregnant belly ondisplay. Him almost completely obscured, because his focus is on my cunt.
Just thinking about his favorite word for my sex is enough to make me clench around nothing, and he must see it, because he groans. “That’s it, baby. You're so fucking beautiful like this. Do you see it? Do you see what I see?"
When I hesitate, he puts a light swat on my ass.
"Eyes on the mirror, Frankie. I want you to watch yourself come apart."
Then his mouth is on me, and I gasp at the first stroke of his tongue. He's relentless, alternating between broad licks and focused attention on my clit, and I can't look away as I watch myself respond.
My lips part and my eyes grow hooded as I pant his name, my voice cracking.
He doubles his efforts, one hand splayed across my belly, the other gripping my hip to hold me steady as I start to shake. I can feel the orgasm building, that familiar tension coiling tighter and tighter.
"I can't—it's too much?—"
He growls around my clit as if to sayyes, you can.
The combination of his words and his talented mouth pushes me over the edge. I come with a cry, my whole body trembling, and he holds me through it, licking me gently until the aftershocks fade.
When I finally open my eyes, I’m not looking in the mirror anymore. I’m staring down at him, and he’s grinning up at me with my arousal glistening on his lips.
"See?" he says softly. "Absolutely fucking beautiful."
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “You’re so good to me.”
He helps me slide off his chest, then climbs to his feet. An erection strains at his dress pants.
I reach for it. For him.
“Let me be good for you, too.”
He cups my face. “You always are.”
Unzipping his fly, I free his cock and wrap my fingers around it.
Now it’s his turn to watch in the mirror, lust making his gaze heavy as I take him in my mouth.
I love doing this. I love being slutty and sexy for him, knowing that he’ll always treat that like a precious gift, something to protect. BecauseIam someone to protect, to love and cherish.
And in the safety of that kind of marriage, it’s so easy and wonderful to admit that I want my husband to shove his cock into my mouth, to make me take his seed on my tongue because he’s already planted it in my belly.
I smile around his erection and he fists his hand in my hair.
“What are you thinking about, wife?” His chest heaves. “You’re giggling to yourself as you suck my cock.”
“Sorry,” I mumble as I return my efforts to getting him off.
“Don’t be sorry. It feels fucking good.”
