I nod, swallowing as I do my best to oblige, to clasp the seam of the material between my shaking fingers while his is still inside me, teasing parts of me I didn’t know existed.
“I’m—I’m a little nervous,” I admit, pulling the hem a little higher.
“That’s alright. But it won’t put an end to this. Do what I asked,Lastochka.”
“Yes,” I whisper, biting hard on my lower lip. “Okay.”
A warm breeze brushes my exposed pussy, a sign I’ve now peeled back the material completely. My husband stares there, at the sight of me bared and gleaming, a darker color swirling in the green of his eyes.
His thumbs return to the apex of my thighs, pulling my lips apart until I’m open, so open, and he sees every wet crevice and curve of my flesh. And then?—
He lowers his face to that spot and buries his nose in my pussy.
“Oh, God,” I gasp, gripping the sheets tighter.
He’s smelling me down there. I’m so embarrassed and so oddly turned on. There’s something deeply erotic and degrading about being seen in this way, inspecting me closely, like I’m something for sale. More heat gushes out of me, and I squirm in his hold but don’t tell him to stop.
His groan vibrates against my opening. “My God, Cecilia. You smell divine. Bring your fingers here, just like I’m doing it,”he says, straightening. “I want your pussy open the entire time. If they slip, if you let go, we start all over again.”
“S-Start what all over again?” I ask, my hands obeying. I bring them down to his, between my legs, smearing them with my arousal as I pull my folds apart, opening myself for him.
My question, however, goes unanswered.
The same finger he used before pushes against my entrance, and my pussy swallows it whole. I’m so wet, it makes a sucking noise, and it’s an effort not to hide my face in embarrassment. He seems completely lost in what he’s doing, and once he offers me much needed friction again, so am I.
Our breaths sync, pleasure building in my core, tingling all the way to my toes and fingertips. It’s too much. Too much and not enough at the same time.
“Oh…Oh, please,” I mewl, not sure what I’m really asking for.
I gasp when he takes my leg and places it on his shoulder, leaning me back across the bed to allow him full access. Then, his head dips between my thighs, his dark hair tickling my skin as his tongue darts out…and licks me there.
A moan shakes my chest. He hisses.
The touch is so warm, so soft, so lubricated. His finger keeps pumping inside me, twisting and curling while his tongue laps at my open pussy. I do my best to keep my hands there, as instructed, but with every stroke of his tongue, I lose more and more control of my body.
Oh, God. Does he even realize how good this feels?
His pace remains steady, the pressure of his tongue and the sliding of that finger perfectly in sync. It’s tortuous. Because I need…I need?—
“Oh, sweetheart. Is this all it takes?” he asks from somewhere far away, sounding as if he’s underwater.
My sense of time and space completely dissipates.
Like a well overflowing at the slightest touch of rain, my pussy throbs and pulses into oblivion, shooting frissons of filthy electricity throughout my body. My lungs stop breathing. My muscles clench, feeding with the heat rolling off his tongue.
The sounds that leave my chest are strained, high-pitched, and desperate. I’ve never sounded like this before. He’s destroying me, and it’s delicious, addictive. He makes coming down feel like a feather pulled from the sky by gentle gravity. By the time my orgasm slows, a sharp ringing seeps into my ears. I don’t know where I am anymore, or where he ends and I begin.
I’m lying on my back, chest heaving as the spasms in my legs continue, and I try to pull away from the intense sensations taking over. But he hasn’t stopped—not with the licking, nor with the finger pumping. When I look down at him, his eyes are still dark, still demanding.
“You’re squirming for nothing,” he says, “that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever fucking seen, and you’re insane if you think we’re done.”
His words should scare me, because I feel so sensitive down there, it’s hard to imagine experiencing that high again. But I’m starved for him, and I don’t care. The little darkness that’s always present in me wants to obey, to let him take and take until there’s nothing left of me to give.
I lay my head back down, and he removes his finger from my pussy. My nightgown is pulled up to the base of my neck, exposing all of me to him, to those big, scarred hands that begin to roam across my skin, up to my breasts, and back down my abdomen, exploring me everywhere he can. When he returns his attention to the apex of my thighs, however, he lowers his fingertips past my pussy and down to the other, forbidden hole. Every atom in my body comes to a halt when I feel his touch there, caressing me like a prized possession.
“Mikhail—” I mumble with a moan.
Pleasure, humiliation, and electricity course through me simultaneously. I’m a mix of squirming away and pushing myself further into his touch, like my body can’t decide how much more it can take.
