Chapter Nine
Reese
I lick my lips after uttering the word ‘consummate’, like I’ve just taken a bite of the world’s most expensive truffle.
Watching her puzzle through the deluge of emotions surrounding our recent nuptials, as she plows through the room service breakfast buffet I ordered for her, is bringing me more joy than I think I’ve felt in my lifetime.
Her hair is still damp from the shower she took while I ordered food, shining under the crystal lights hanging above the table.
“So good ,” she mumbles around a bite of the burrito she’s dipping in sriracha sauce. She just looks so… happy.
I also have a new appreciation for limp bacon. Watching how she eats it has me thinking of the incredible things her mouth is going to do to my cock very soon.
She lifts the soft strip of salty meat toward her lips as it lounges lazily over the front of her fingers, and then she does this thing .
This thing where she sticks her tongue out like it’s on a seek and destroy mission.
It wiggles and loops around the bacon, drawing it up and then sucking it into her mouth, before snapping her teeth like a feral cat to rip off the bite.
It’s the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever seen. And looking at the glimmering rock I put on her finger while she does it?
Stick a fork in me, I’ve died and gone to limp bacon heaven.
“I love watching you eat,” I offer, sitting in the chair across from her at the long dining table in our suite. My legs are in full manspread, trying to give my dripping cock some breathing room as I battle back the animalistic need to destroy my wife’s pussy for the first time.
I shift in my seat, my pulse banging against my eardrums as she sneaks happy little looks at the dime-sized diamond I put on her finger last night.
I’ve never thought about what my wedding would look like before. The only thoughts I’d ever had on the subject were that I didn’t want one.
But as she toddled down that little aisle last night, holding the ten-pound white rose bouquet I paid an all-night florist to deliver in record time, my fucking heart was about to come right out of my chest and fall at her feet in reverence.
“So,” she starts, setting her little hands on the tabletop on either side of her empty plate, fingers splayed as she finally meets my eyes, “since I have no memory of marrying you, you’re going to have to break down for me how this happened. I missed my own wedding, for God’s sake. My mother would be so proud.”
I bite back the rough chuckle because she’s right. I want her to have the world, and having a memory devoid of the ceremony that bound her to me for the rest of her life is a damn shame.
“You remember blackjack?”
She nods as I play back the events of the night in my head, fighting off my need to defile her soft body in a thousand ways.
“You remember the two men standing next to you?”
This time, she shakes her head, and I realize that’s where her memories stop. I consider leaving this part out, but she needs to know what sort of man I’ve become because of her.
“I stepped away for a few seconds, to tip the waitress that brought our drinks, and those two fucks were flanking you, holding on to your arms as you wobbled, thinking it was their lucky night. I heard them tell you they were from the hotel, and you should come with them.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
Good , I think, because I don’t want the image in her head of me trying to push my thumbs into the fat one’s eye sockets after I flipped him onto the floor. “It’s okay. I dealt with them.”
After that happened, I knew you needed to be my wife, so no other swinging dick in the place would mistake you for an available woman.
“After blackjack, you wanted to shop. So, shop we did. You used your winnings at the Tiffany store to buy a keychain, for God’s sake. With a sterling silver cat on it. It was the least expensive thing there, and you wanted so much to buy something with your own winnings, so I indulged you.”
“A keychain?” she repeats with wonder as I crook my finger, calling her to me. “A three-hundred-dollar keychain. How… practical.”
“Come here. You need to be closer for me to finish the story.”
She swallows, trepidation in her eyes, but the way she nibbles her bottom lip between her teeth, she just needs someone to push her.
“Stop thinking so much and just get your sweet, peachy ass over here and sit on your husband’s lap so he can tell you all about our wedding.” My voice thickens as I consider the possibility that she will find a way to undo our union and get away from me.
That thought rockets my need to get inside her into the stratosphere. She could annul the marriage, but securing her to me with my child growing inside her will put my permanent stamp of ownership on my wife.
The crystals on the chandelier over the table send tiny, fractured rainbows across her fresh face as she glides her chair back on the sleek marble floor, following the table around, tracing the tips of her fingers on the edge as she goes, as though she needs to steady herself with each tiny step.
I’m operating on instinct. Not thinking things through. Which isn’t my usual style, but this girl… Jesus, this fucking girl has turned me into a jealous, sweating monster who can think of nothing other than getting my dick deep inside her and spilling into her soft warmth before she can get away.
“Okay, here I am, bosshole.” Her cheeks are flushed pink, and I tell myself to be gentle. But having her this close, wearing only that fluffy oversized hotel robe that makes her look like a little doll, has me reaching out, digging into her hips until her ass is tucked up against my needy dick.
A primal roar gathers in my chest as I catch our reflection in the floor-to-ceiling, gilded mirror leaning against the wall directly across from where we sit.
“Good girl,” I rumble into her neck, slipping my hands down to the terrycloth belt, seeking out the little knot that’s keeping it secured. “Then we went to the Alexander McQueen store, and I told you to pick out a dress. Something special. You twirled around like a princess, trying on this one and that as I sat there watching, wondering how anything so beautiful and perfect had not been claimed yet.”
“Did I pick one out?” she asks, leaning back against me, the floral scent of her freshly-shampooed hair drifting to my nose as I loosen the knot on the robe and feel her ass cradle the iron pipe of my aching dick.
“You did. It’s hanging in the closet in the bedroom. I’m going to have it framed and hung on our bedroom wall at home, so I can always remember what you looked like when you walked down the aisle to become my wife.” Her breath hitches as her delectable body wiggles in my lap, and I watch desire creep across her features as she keeps her eyes on mine in the mirror’s reflection.
“Tell me what it looks like.” Her voice thickens, each word softer than the last as I free the belt from the robe, letting it fall open, exposing her mouthwatering tits, my control slowly deserting me.
With a deep breath, I spread the front of the robe, feeling her body stiffen as my dick demands entry into that snug cunt that will be the source of my obsession for the rest of my life. I already know that, and I’m resigned to her power over me.
She’s trembling as my demanding fingers meet the softness of her belly, caressing the landscape of this lush creature as I get my first glimpse of her deep pink nipples and the curve of her tits exposed in the mirror.
An invisible hand grabs me by the balls as the hem of the robe falls from her creamy thighs, displaying the dark brush of curls at the top of her mound and the slash below, taunting me as I battle with my primal instincts, knowing I need to calm the fuck down, or I’m going to hurt her.
“It was the color of ripe strawberries. Layers of silk and flutters of some other translucent fabric hung from your waist to the floor.” My hands find the pebbles of her nipples, the soft weight of her breasts fitting perfectly into my palms as my balls squeeze, eager to deliver the binding cream into her welcoming womb. “There was a slit that showed off your left leg, almost to your hip. And the top…” I roll her peaked nipples between my fingers on a hard pinch, her hands grabbing the arms of the chair as she draws in a sharp breath. “The top fit you like a second skin. Tiny straps struggled to hold on to the fabric that covered your tits.”
“Red. Slit. Spaghetti straps.” Her words are breathy as her legs spread another few inches, her eyes on mine in the mirror as I grope her tits shamelessly, my dick straining against my zipper. “Sounds unconventional.”
“It was perfect.” My heart stalls as I lock my eyes onto the little shiny petals of her pussy, taunting me in our reflection, and I realize there is so much I don’t know about my wife. “Touch that pretty kitty you’re teasing me with. I want to watch you touch yourself in the mirror.”
Instead of withdrawing or refusing, her face brightens, teeth nipping at her lower lip, and I’m breathing like a racehorse. My bride is a temptress . Sweet, and smart, and sassy, and slutty.
A deadly combination.
“Touch myself?” She flutters her lashes in mock surprise. “That seems a bit outside of my job description.”
“Your job is to do what your boss tells you. And I want you to baptize that wedding ring. I know you’re wet. Your scent is driving me crazy. Get those fingers down there. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”
Her brow knits, lips twisting, but she does as I say, walking her fingers painfully slowly, down from her belly button, until they slide deliciously into those perfect pink petals.
A shudder quivers through her body as they make contact, and she flashes a devious smile at me from the mirror. “No toys this time?”
“Oh, I’ve got the ultimate toy for you, baby. I just need to make sure your tight little hole is primed and ready.”
God, she’s turning everything in my world upside down. I’ve never gone without thinking about work and the company for more than five minutes in longer than I can remember, but I could let it all fall to ruin watching her play with herself for me.
“Does this new toy have a name?” Her fingers move faster as I work her nipples, my mouth watering, wondering how she tastes. “All the other products have names. Like… Orgasmatron, Tangerine Tickler, Pink Moan-y Maker...”
I swallow, knowing I can’t watch this show much longer and not nut in my pants. “Yeah, this one is called Sorry Not Sorry.”
“What does—” she starts as I slap my hand down, slipping my fingers between hers as our hands move together against the slippery heat. The diamond pinches into my palm as I press down, leading her hand lower, guiding our ringed fingers into her drenched opening.
“I never thought I’d have a ring on my finger,” I breathe, feeling more of her magic seeping into my soul.
Her cum creeps through our threaded fingers, slippery and warm against the cool metal rings that bind us together. There’s one question I haven’t asked. I pump our stacked ring fingers into her opening and feel the insane tightness, hear the little yelping gasp she releases when our forward motion is met with resistance.
“God, baby, my wife is a virgin?”
How did I get so lucky? It’s caveman, alpha bullshit, but the thrill that races through me at the idea this beautiful treasure has been untouched?
I vow in this instant to make her the happiest woman on the face of the planet.
“Yes,” she hisses, the answer shooting straight into my soul.
Let God strike me down for the gratitude that flows over me in hot waves.
“You know what ‘consummate’ means, right, baby?” I grind my fingers on top of hers, finding that sensitive nub that’s going to be the singular focus of my world from this day forward.
“Of course.” She lets out a soft giggle. “I’m a virgin, Reese, not a na?ve little girl. I just never found anyone I thought was…” She pauses, lips open as I work her clit with her ring finger as she finishes on a breathy moan, “worthy.”
Jesus, it’s going to take all my willpower not to throw her onto the carpet and shove myself home.
Her tits are lifting with ragged breaths, the back of her head resting on my shoulder, and the way she’s making herself soft and vulnerable for me sends my possessiveness shooting toward the sun.
“Mother of God,” I grit out, using all my willpower to drag our hands away from her slick heat.
But I need in there.
Lightning shoots down my spine, and fire licks at my heart. With greedy, jerking motions, I free her from the robe completely, lifting her from my lap and rising to my feet.
“Come, wife.”
I grab her by the hand, our slippery fingers weaving together as I lead her to the bedroom, the ferocious need to make her mine taking me by the balls and not letting go.
I slept beside her here last night, listening to her every breath, spinning the unfamiliar loop of metal around my finger, puzzling through all the impulsiveness of the evening. Memories of our first night as husband and wife. But I have to know. In a moment of fragmented honor, I know I have to give her this one chance.
This one out.
Fear slithers like vipers in my gut as my extremities turn cold, and I force myself to free her hand from mine, stepping back, nearly falling to my knees at the sweet perfection of my wife naked in front of me.
Her dark hair skims around her chin, eyes wide with wonder and confusion as I force the words from my mouth like poison.
“Once I put you on that bed, I won’t be able to stop.” Every inch of her calls to me from some faraway, primal place, the need to consume her ripping through me like rusty claws. “Do you want this? The ring…” I swallow down the baseball lodged in my throat, and for the first time I allow myself to sink into the feelings I have for her. “Me, Ava. Do you want me?”
The question hangs there in the space between us like a ticking bomb. Her answer will destroy me either way. But with a yes, the destruction will be sweet. I will rebuild myself into the man she wants. The man she needs.
If her answer is no, it will level me in a way from which there will be no coming back.
But God help me, I put my fate in her hands.
I can still taste her kiss from last night when I put the ring on her finger…
Her plump lips draw together, and I analyze every change in her expression, looking for a clue to how my future will unfold. Her velvety flesh teases me as I stand with a painful hard-on, all the blood flowing from my brain into my dick as she slowly takes a side step.
Then a back step.
Her hands lift, hanging in the air where my question dangles painfully, waiting.
Her fingers curl, a smile cresting her lips, and my heart hammers through my chest. “Yes. I said yes last night and I say yes now.”
In a flash, I’ve got her off the ground, throwing her onto the bed like a demented madman. Her eyes devour me as I strip myself down to bare skin, then spring wide with horror when my dick comes into full view.
“That’s…” She shakes her head. “I understand the name of the toy now.”
“Spread your legs, wife. I want to see what’s mine before I taste it.”
I prowl up the bed until I’m within striking distance as she eases her knees outward, and I need to taste her more than I need to breathe.
“God damn.” I shake my head, eyes pinned on the prettiest pussy ever put on this earth.
I groan as I set my teeth in the soft flesh just inside her knee and hear her whine. I don’t take long. I kiss my way down her inner thigh, toward the savory scent that is making me delusional.
I sink my knees into the mattress and give her sweet cunt a solid, tongue-first French kiss as my soul leaves my body.
Her flavor rockets through me from my core to my head and down to my toes. I can feel it flowing in my veins, my brain growing foggy, consumed by a hunger so deep I already know it will never be sated.
She bows off the bed as I take the whole of her into my open mouth, my tongue finding that bundle of nerves as her thighs open wider, offering herself to me, and I feel like a fucking God.
I groan, fucking tears gathering in my eyes as she starts to whine, weaving her fingers into my hair in a silent plea for more.
I gleefully answer. More lips, more tongue, more sucking, nibbling, flicking. A sense of omnipotent power bursts inside of me as I tongue this sweet, young pussy, wondering how such a grumpy fuck like me landed this soft package of perfection.
I don’t dwell. She is wearing my ring, her pussy gushing into my mouth as her hard little nub grows against my tongue, her honey dripping down my chin and throat.
The lust awakening inside me twists and makes me question every moment of my life up until now. The man I want to be after this moment is not the man I was even yesterday.
Stars dance in my vision as her fingernails cut into my scalp. Her hold on my head crushes me against her warmth, making me wild.
“God, Reese, Reese…”
I stop for only a second to correct her. “You call me your husband when you come.”
I pinch my lips around her clit, driving my tongue against it in loops and swats until her thighs crash against my ears, muffling the sound of her orgasm as it takes off, spilling her nectar over my tongue as she tears at my hair. But there is no pain besides the lead weights in my balls, ready to paint her with my seed.
She’s lust-blind and pliant when I finally come up for air, her climax so intense, one of her eyes is looking to the ceiling while the other moves in spirals like one of those hypnotic optical illusions.
I climb forward on my knees, slipping a hand under her soft ass and heaving her up onto the pillows, knowing no matter what I do, this is going to hurt like a motherfucker; the least I can do is give her whatever comfort possible.
I’m riveted by the anticipation in her eyes as they return to earth, groaning into a new kiss as I angle my hips, reaching down with one hand to start jacking myself up against her welcoming sex.
“There will be no condom, wife.” I grind the words out through bared teeth. “You understand what I’m saying?”
There is a flicker of trepidation in her eyes, and I distract her from her doubts with the prodding pressure of my weeping cock, poised at her opening.
“Right there, my dick is already dripping inside you. You’re mine, Ava. All fucking mine.”
I rasp my teeth into the hollow of her neck, pinching the flesh like a fucking wolf marking his mate.
“This all feels like a dream,” she mumbles, her words thick with lust as I fist my dick against her tight opening, quickly reaching the point of no return.
“If this was a dream, what would happen next?” My ears are ringing as I angle my hips, primed for battle, rocking in mini pumps against her resistance.
“I’d want my husband to make me his. I’d pull him inside me and whisper in his ear…”
Holy fuck. I’m gonna nut before I get inside her.
“What would you whisper, wife?”
Her eyes flicker with a new wickedness as her hands slip behind my neck, the pressure of one of her heels resting against the back of my thigh.
“Show me what you got. Let’s see what this toy can do…”