“Yes!”
My free hand rises between us to find a pebbled nipple and pinch it. “Would you get on your knees and implore?”
“Yes! Anything …”
“What a hungry little slut you are… You’re so starved for my cock you’ve lost all dignity.”
“Fuck you, Alexander!” She tries to move away, but I keep her right there, grabbing her hips again.
“I thought you wanted me to fuckyou?”
“Not if you’re gonna be an asshole about it.”
In her struggle to get away, the strap of her tank top falls to the side, revealing the pink scar. It draws my eyes immediately, and then my hand rises to it, my thumb gently brushing the mark. It looks good. No scabbing, no redness, no swelling… The surgeon did a great job with the stitches, and in a year or two, it should be almost invisible. But seeing it still hurts. No matter how many bandages I changed or how often I assisted her in the shower, this permanent reminder that she almost died still affects me deeply.
“I’m okay, baby,” she promises, grazing the side of my troubled face with a tender hand.
“Andrea, I… I’d feel more comfortable if we waited another week,” I insist.
She meets my eyes, and whatever she sees in them pushes her to give in. “Okay. We’ll wait, baby. But can you… help me?”
“With what?”
“It… it hurts,” she explains. Before I can worry about her wound, she presses her bare pussy onto me.
“You want me to make you come?”
“Just once. Doesn’t even have to be a big one. But I need… I need something, Lex.”
This is a compromise I can get behind. Especially since I refuse to leave her like this, needy, aching, and desperate. If I don’t help her, I know she’ll do it herself, and I’d much rather see it happen than not.
So, without a word, my hand lowers from her healing shoulder to between us, and my fingers seek the wet, heated expanse between her legs. Gratitude fills her eyes as she rises enough for me to reach where she needs me so earnestly.
“Fuck, you’re drenched.”
She nods, pearly white teeth biting into her lower lip as I give her swollen clit a graze. The second time I do it, harder, she shivers on me, releasing a faint, trembling breath. Oh, this will be so easy.
I go slow, working her up one touch at a time. Whenever she tries to move, to ride my hand, to give the pace, I retreat, forcing her to stay still and accept my rhythm. My rules. Once she’s been cooperative for a moment, I arrange my hand to enter her with two fingers while my thumb keeps working on the swollen bundle of nerves. I know she’s nearly there when she moans my name, her hand clutching the hair on the back of my head.
“You want to come, freckles?” I ask, fingers pumping in and out of her tightness while my thumb gives her the maddening rolls that’ll push her over the edge.
“Yes.”
“Then ask nicely.”
“Please make me come,husband,” she begs. That word might genuinely be my kryptonite because I feel my cock pulse within its confines while a stream of precum leaks out.
I set a firm pace between us, not too fast but definitely not slow, strumming at the little nub that pulsates on my fingertips while fucking into her, feeling her walls spasm. When she tilts, face twisted with pleasure as moans rise from her heaving chest, I take in the spectacle of her orgasm, subjugated by the sheer beauty of it, entranced by her unfathomable perfection.
“There you go,” I encourage sweetly. “Such a good little wife, coming on your husband’s fingers like this.”
“Fuck, baby,” she moans, her hips thrusting of their own volition. Good to know those words also work wonders on her.
Her climax is modest, enough to give her some respite, but definitely not the kind that would satiate her appetite. I could probably keep going and make her come a few more times like this, give her what she really wants, make her squirt all over me as her entire body shakes from the pleasure. But I don’t, because this was the deal. The compromise. One small orgasm as we wait until next week to return to our intrepid adventures.
So, instead of listening to my desire to give her more, I accompany her down her orgasm, fingers slowing until they come to a full halt.
“I love you, freckles,” I whisper as she sags onto me, spent.
