“To be brave and state what I want.”
He stops massaging my foot and captures my left ankle to bring it up on his knee. In his hands, I feel small and powerless,but instead of scaring me, it makes my pussy flutter. I want him to touch me. “How could I possibly get mad at you for stating a boundary? No, I will reward you greatly instead.”
I wait in silence, considering all the rules and everything he’s told me. He doesn’t press me on it; he simply waits, stroking my foot with languid precision. I’ve never seen him so composed, but I know him, and I expect him to detonate as soon as I give the green light, taking me into that blazing fire. And I want it. So help me God, I want this man to ruin me, to cage me into his madness and bring us both to the edge of ecstasy.
My pussy is so wet, I can feel it when I shift my thighs, slippery and warm and ready for whatever he wants to do to it. The throbbing turns to pounding, and the heat gets hotter to the point that I have to part my legs a little. And he sees it—every subtle twitch of my muscles, he sees it, and he swallows, as if he knows exactly what’s waiting for him underneath my nightgown.
“Malachite,” I breathe out, drawing his attention back to my mouth. “Can that be my safe word?”
“A gemstone. It’s perfect, actually. When you need it, use it, and everything stops. That will be your only task for tonight.”
I nod, trembling a little when he lets go of my left foot. Just like I’d never been kissed before, I’ve never been alone and half-naked with a man. A man I’m in love with. A man whose touch I crave like my next breath of air. I just hope I won’t disappoint him.
His hands glide up my legs until they reach my soft thighs. I can’t help but whimper, closing my eyes, only to open them back a second later, when he gently pries them apart. Involuntarily, I press them back together.
He looks up, a question in those hooded eyes, and suddenly, I get why he asked me to come up with a safe word. He knows exactly how inexperienced I am. I take another deep breath, andI slowly open for him, grateful my nightgown is still covering my panties. I’m so nervous, I can barely think straight.
“Good girl,Lastochka,” he murmurs, noticing the shaking in my limbs as his hands slip underneath my gown, all the way up to the crease between my thigh and my pussy. His words soothe me, and I relax a little. Judging by the endearing tone of his voice, I know there’s no way he’ll be disappointed by anything tonight.
His fingers pull at the straps of my panties until I feel the drag of the material down my legs. His gaze is focused, fascinated. Every movement is deliberate, as if he’s trying to reel back his impatience for my sake.
When his hands come back into view, my white lace is merely a tight string that hangs low around my ankles. Even if he hasn’t seen a thing yet, I feel utterly naked with my pussy spread for him under the nightgown.
The cool air sizzles against my heated flesh, caressing that swollen nub that keeps pulsing. My breath stutters with every tingle of pleasure, and he hasn’t even touched me there yet. What will happen then?
“S-Should we turn off the lights, you think?” I ask.
He smiles. “No, sweetheart. I’m going to see you—all of you. And you’ll let me.”
“O-Oh.”
The way he says it, so certain, so slowly, makes my breasts pebble. Disappearing under my nightgown again, his fingers inch closer to my throbbing center. My blood heats, my skin tightening over my pulse in anticipation.
And then?—
My husband’s eyes turn wholly dark as his steady fingers press into the soft outer skin of my pussy. I melt, head empty of any thoughts. His thumbs probe at my wet entrance, tender andcoaxing, as he hisses at his discovery. All my breath leaves my lungs. I’m soaked already, and now, he knows it.
I mumble, “Is that…? Is it alright that I’m?—”
“Stop talking,” he says without taking his eyes off what he’s doing. He groans—a raspy, ragged sound that vibrates through me. I can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. All I can manage is to sit here with my legs spread while he does unthinkable things under my nightgown, turning me into a puddle of submission and desire.
“You mess with my mind,” he confesses, slowly entering me with a long finger. I nearly jolt from my seat at the sensation, but I’m so wet, it slides in effortlessly. There’s barely any pain. No stretch. Only the feel of him there, filling my untouched hole up to the first knuckle.
He stops, leaving his finger in, giving me time to adjust. “You make me want to be careful,” he adds. My eyes flutter open, only to be drowned in his gaze. “You make me want to give you things I’ve never given anyone.”
His finger slides in a little more, to the next knuckle, then halts again. My lips part. He watches me experience him for the first time, attuned to every movement of my body. I can feel my muscles clenching around him, pulsing in desperate need of friction.
More. More. More.
“So fucking perfect,” he praises, curling that finger in the depths of my core until it touches something that draws a loud, unobstructed moan from my chest. It almost shatters me.
Cheeks flaming hot, I press my hand to my lips, but he doesn’t laugh at me, doesn’t make me feel like I did something wrong. Instead, his voice lowers to a baritone. “Do that again.”
He rubs me there, in that same, deep spot, and I couldn’t stop the moans from coming if I wanted. Not if he keeps doing that. I look down at his veiny hand moving in and out of me, my fingersclenched tight on the sheets on either side of my body as my pussy drips with something warm.
I shiver, my legs widening, my head dipping back as I allow him to play me like an instrument.
“Look at me,” he orders. I barely, just barely, flick my gaze back down, chest heaving, eyes so hooded, they’re almost closing again. “I want you to peel back your nightgown and show me how wet you are.”
