Convinced, Michael quickly removes my denim shorts and my top and bra, which has been hanging loosely on my body. He draws my hand down to his boxers and presses my palm against his erection. “Touch me. I need to feel your touch, Zaira, please.”
Trembling, my hand slides down the inside of his boxers. Michael groans as he jerks his hips, thrusting into my palm. All those years Michael was the man I was supposed to marry. Now, I’m his wife, and he is this beautiful man whom I know I will never be able to get enough of. I run my other hand over his chest, broad and thick with muscle, tracing the defined lines of his abs. My right hand continues to stroke his cock, as it lies heavy in my hand. Michael moans at the pleasure I am giving him.
He bends down and takes my nipple between his lips. He sends shivers of need to my core as he rolls it with his tongue, and I feel the combination of the cool air on my skin coupled with his hot, wet mouth. I can’t help the moan that escapes or the instinctive arch to my back that offers him more.
He releases my nipple and says, “That’s right, baby. Give it to me. Give it all to me.” He turns his attention to my other breast, placing his hands on my hips, and I ground the curve of my sex against his erection. The friction feels amazing, and my body is enflamed with need.
I continue to rock against him, never getting enough; I need more than the tease he is allowing me to have. I tighten my grip on his shaft and work him as hard as I dare. I slide my hand up and down his shaft, being sure to touch him from balls to tip in a steady rhythm.
He releases a tortured groan and demands, “Harder.”
I don’t think I can get much wetter, but hearing the want and need in his voice, I realize I am wrong. He made me want him more.
“Michael, please, I can’t take this torture anymore. Take me. Now.”
“Are you ready for me?” he asks breathlessly.
“Touch me and find out for yourself.”
With my words, Michael palms my cleft and slides his fingers through my folds. He groans as he pushes one finger inside, and I immediately clench around him.
“Oh God, baby, you are so wet. So ready for me.” He gets up from the bed, walks to his jeans, and pulls out his wallet. After digging through, he pulls out a condom and quickly removes the wrapper.
Just as he’s about to sheath himself, I say, “No.” He looks at me as if I have lost my mind, but I continue. “No condom. I want you bare, Michael. I want to really feel you.”
“But what if you get pregnant?” he asks.
“Then we get pregnant,” I reply. “I want nothing more than to give you a family, Michael. Please.”
He saunters back to the bed and crawls back up on top of me and says, “This is a first for me.”
I look at him curiously. “A first?”
“You, my lovely wife, are the first woman I’ve ever had sex with without a condom.”
I nod and smile. I mean, really at this point, I am done talking. My body aches for him. All I want is to feel his hot hardness inside me. Michael enters me with one powerful thrust and stops. The only movement is his body shaking. I whisper, “You feel so good, Michael, so hard, so thick.”
“Zaira,” he says breathlessly. He groans, and with a sense of purpose, he hammers into me. My hands dig into his flesh as I try to keep up with the frantic rhythm of his thrusts. He’s so deep, and I can feel every movement of his hardness inside me.
We are both sweaty as our bodies slam together, the sound of our flesh slapping against each other. It’s incredibly erotic, and my orgasm builds quickly, heating my body even more. My muscles coil inside and out, and I feel as if I am going to combust. My undoing comes when Michael reaches between us and brushes his thumb against my clit. I explode with a low, guttural groan, shuddering around him. It’s too intense, but Michael continues to hammer into me. I see sweat beading on his brow. As he continues to find his release, another orgasm builds within me. Michael grows harder inside me, and as he reaches his climax, I do too. This orgasm tears through us both, and we ride it out together. When the last ripple of pleasure fades away, he collapses on top of me. He lies there for several minutes before he slowly pulls out of me and rolls to my side. Pulling me close to his chest, he murmurs in my ear, “My beautiful wife.”
We spend almost an hour snuggled together in bed when Michael says, “So, Zaira, I realized earlier today that I owe you something.”
Curious by his statement, I ask, “Owe me something?”
“Yes, something that should have happened right after we were married but didn’t.”
“Michael, I left right after we were married.”
“Yes, you did, which is why I never gave it to you.”
Now he has totally piqued my curiosity. What could he possibly be talking about? “So are you going to enlighten me?”
“Maybe,” he says teasingly.
I sit up and tickle him. “Michael Anthony Vitali, you tell me right now!”
He’s laughing and I’m laughing until he finally says, “Okay, okay, no more tickling. I’ll tell you.” He grins at me. “So last week you asked me if you could go to Italy.”
