Branded

Chapter Twenty-Five #2

I clutch my eyes shut and nod, still hurting from that.

He cups my breasts and squeezes, making me moan. “And made you ride my gun instead of my cock like you wanted. Like you deserved for being my sweet”—a small kiss on my mouth—“slutty”—another kiss—“glorious wife.”

“Arsen,” I whimper against his lips.

And he swallows it with another kiss as he whispers, his hands going down for my jeans, “Your body’s my crime scene, isn’t it, baby, so on our wedding night, I pay for violating it instead of worshipping it like I should’ve done from the start.”

I arch my back and he makes quick work of pulling off my jeans and panties. And then I’m naked.

I honestly wouldn’t have known about it at all—which is a marvel in itself—if I hadn’t heard the rustle of my clothes falling onto the floor.

Because as soon as I’m all bare curves and rolls—another thing that I’m very chill about—he leans over and lowers me down onto the cool sheets, draping me with his body.

I guess he was right when he said he’s all I’ll need to stay warm and covered.

Besides, he’s doing the thing he said he would.

Worshipping me.

With his lips on my lips. I know everyone calls it kissing, but this is worshipping.

He’s worshipping my lips, sucking and sipping on the taste of my mouth like that is his religion, before moving down to the side of my neck.

He spends some time there, around my pulse, doing the same thing, taking little bites of my skin, savoring my taste as my limbs wrap themselves around him.

My arms go around his neck and my thighs hold on to his hips.

And it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.

My bare body tangled up with his.

My heels digging into the backs of his thighs, scraping against the dusting of his hair. My nails scratching his shoulders; his hard, leaking cock throbbing against my tummy. I’m so busy reveling under all these new sensations that I don’t realize he’s gotten down farther.

To my tits. Until he takes a nipple in his mouth and I arch up.

Holy fuck.

I didn’t know how fucking sensitive my nipples are.

Or how fucking sensitive my breasts would be when he lets go of my nipple and sucks on the flesh itself.

It’s like there’s a direct line from my tits to my belly and down to my pussy.

And that line is tugging with every suck of his mouth and every pump of his fingers as he squeezes my flesh.

So much so that I’ve completely come off the makeshift bed and now I’m hanging on to him.

I keep scratching him with my nails as he sucks on my tits, plays with them, and I drag my wet—soaked—pussy along his stomach, the ridges of his abs, the thick thatch of his hair.

I’m moaning and twisting and leaking, quite possibly as much as he is, my toes curling in ecstasy.

God, yeah, this is what worshipping is.

This is what a goddess must feel like. Cherished and devoured in the same breath.

But he’s only halfway done because after he sucks on my tits, he moves down to my belly and does the same thing.

I’m not going to lie; I’m the most conscious about my tummy.

About its endless rolls and doughy flesh and impossibly pasty skin.

But the second his mouth touches my belly button, I forget all about it and moan so loud that the roof seems to shake.

God, how is it that my belly button is so sensitive?

I’m about to snap my thighs closed and practically jump off the bed, but he holds me down.

He grabs my hips like handlebars, his blunt nails making dimples in my flesh as he laps and laves at my rolls, eats them up like he’s been starving for ages, for eight years, six months of which he spent dreaming about me, and I’m his first feast. My body and its abundant curves are his sustenance.

I swear to God, just that thought—the body that I always hated being his meal—makes me come.

Or maybe it’s the fact that while he’s been feeding on my belly, I’ve been humping his chest. I’ve been writhing and grinding against him, and I’ve finally fallen over the edge.

God, it’s still so embarrassing, how easily he makes me come.

So it’s almost a relief that he’s finally down to the place that’s actually supposed to be this sensitive.

My still-pulsing pussy.

Although my relief is short-lived because gosh, I never stop coming. The whole time he’s down there, eating me out, I keep climaxing. My orgasm stretches out like a coil of rope that seems endless. My thighs keep shaking. My belly contracts, and I’m undulating like a wave in the ocean.

And it doesn’t help that he’s making all these sounds.

Back when he was sucking on my tits and my belly, he did groan and grunt, and it all felt needy and horny, arousing.

But this is different. This is so much more intense and Jesus, lewd.

He’s slurping too. All unabashedly and with abandon, which gets me going even more.

Like he’s actually drinking from my pussy.

Not to mention, his head goes up and down and side to side and his stubble scratches my inner thighs.

I think I pass out.

Or at least lose all concept of time and space.

Because the next thing I know, he’s rising from between my thighs and crawling up over my body.

He’s covering me once again, the length of his sweaty body pressing against the length of mine, settling himself with his hips between my trembling thighs and his hands framing my heated face.

“Eyes on me,” he commands in a gruff voice.

I blink them open and try to focus.

“This is it,” he says, his eyes looking all drugged and wild.

For the first few seconds, all I can do is take him in. His ruby red, glistening lips. I’m a little shocked at how wet his mouth looks, but then I glance at his jaw, at the actual droplets clinging to it, to his throat even, and oh my God, is that me?

Did I do that to him?

I bring my hands from where they were clutching the sheets in a death grip and cup his jaw on both sides. “Did I… Did I do that?”

Possessiveness is so thick on his features that it might as well be another presence in the air. “Yeah, my baby like to squirt.”

“Oh no,” I breathe out.

“Oh fuckin’ yes.”

I caress his jaw with shaking fingers. “But I’m sorry. I—”

His stomach hollows out with his breath as he rasps, “I’d drown a thousand times if it meant I’d get to taste your sweet little snatch on my way over to the other side. So your sorry is what I call my heaven and I never wanna come up for air, yeah?”

“Arsen,” I moan, twisting under him, which is when understanding dawns. I know what he meant by this is it because his cock is right there. Right at my entrance. At my restless movements, his head brushes against my pussy and we both shudder.

He presses his thumbs on my cheeks. “You hold on to me now, yeah? This is gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you more than I need to. So you’re gonna do exactly as I say and—fuuuck.”

That was me. I did that, making him break off mid-speech because I took matters into my own hands.

I arched my back and put my hands on his ass, pushing him inside on my own.

I’m pretty sure that wasn’t what he was going to say, but whatever.

I didn’t want him to waste time talking and educating me when I needed him in there. When I needed the hard part to be over.

Namely, the taking of my virginity.

And it was hard, I’m not going to lie.

I jerk at his entry and gasp, my eyes going wide at the stretch.

He curses before dropping his forehead to the crook of my neck.

His breaths are gusty, creating a mist over the column of my throat.

I blink up at the wooden ceiling as I wait for the pain to pass.

It’s like a sting, like a needle piercing through.

Sharp in the beginning but now dulling out.

When I think it’s gone, I tilt my face to the side and whisper, “It’s done. ”

He stiffens over me. Not that he already wasn’t all rigid, but at my words, his frame snaps tighter and he looks up. “What?”

My hands are still on his ass so I dig my nails into the hard globes and reply, “You’re in.”

His eyes narrow farther.

“The h-hard part’s over, right? Now it’s all… it’s all smooth sailing.”

I swear I feel him throb inside of me and the pain comes back. Okay, so maybe it won’t be all smooth sailing, but at least I’m not a virgin anymore, and everyone is always talking about how that’s the most wonderful thing. Plus, I don’t think I bled at all. So I’m sure it’ll be okay.

Only he doesn’t think that because slowly, he rises up from my body. He pushes himself up on his arms, his shoulders straining, looking like he’s going to do a push-up. He looks down at me with what I can only call an angry expression.

Angry and aggravated, pained even.

Then, with flaring nostrils, he says, “If you think”—he comes down, his biceps bulging with the action, his torso pressing into mine, sort of pinning me down with his weight—“I’m in”—he pulls out of me a little, and my limbs tighten around him, refusing to let go—“then, baby, you’re in for a very rude awakenin’. ”

Before I can say anything, he pushes back in and holy fuck, what was that?

I jerk as if electrocuted, my spine bowing with the kind of stretch I’ve never felt before. I scream and thrash, or at least try to, but his weight is pinning me down and I moan, “Arsen, I—”

At the plea I don’t really get to make, the pain lessens. And I realize he’s pulled himself back and given me a second to breathe as he says, “Because that was just the tip.”

I’m panting. “The t-tip?”

“Yeah. Remember the kind I told you about? The one that you give to a stripper for givin’ you a lap dance.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s not the one I’m talkin’ about here.”

“Arsen, please, I—”

“This is the other kind of tip and you’ve got”—he pushes back in again, making me moan and arch because the pain flares up—“about eight more inches to take.”

My eyes go wide and I scratch his sides, my knees coming up on the bed. “But I don’t think I can… take it.”

His chest swells with his breath. “Oh, you’ll take it.”

“You won’t fit. You—”

His dick throbs inside my pussy, and I moan again as he growls, “I’ll fit. Even if it takes the whole goddamn night, I’m gonna make it fit.”

I roll my head side to side. “It’s t-too much. You’re too much.”

He leans down, his muscles vibrating, droplets of his sweat plopping down on my body, his bronzed skin glowing in the yellow light.

“Yeah, I am. So this time, instead of being a fuckin’ brat, you’ll listen to me and do as I say, yeah?

” He pulls back again, relieving the pressure.

“Because as I said, you’ll take it. You’ll take every goddamn inch of my cock in your college girl snatch because I don’t wanna imagine a world where I don’t get to be inside of you.

Where I don’t get to be as fuckin’ close to you as I possibly can. ”

Tears well up in my eyes and I nod. “O-okay.”

His stomach hollows out over me once again and he clenches his jaw for a second. “Now, hold on to me and let me fuckin’ do it right.”

Nodding desperately, I hold on to his shoulders and get ready.

He breathes out a sigh of relief and pushes back in.

This time, deeper, so much deeper that I can’t help but moan again.

But I’m not alone when I do it. He’s right there with me, coming down over my body, framing my face with his large hands again and putting his mouth over mine so he can swallow down my painful noises.

So he can kiss them into moans of pleasure.

Which doesn’t take too long, or maybe it does, I don’t know.

All I know is that he keeps kissing me and pulling out and pushing in, deeper and deeper with each pump.

My thighs spasm and my belly cramps as he gains inch over inch, and I think I even bleed a little when he busts through my cherry.

But after a while, it doesn’t hurt too bad.

After a while, he slides in and out like he was always meant to be there.

Like his dick was always meant to slide into my channel and carve it and mold it to make space for him.

After a while, we’re both so sweaty and our mouths are so swollen that we stick together.

Our bodies fuse with each other, and I don’t know where he starts and where I begin.

I don’t know if I’m the one moaning or if it’s his noises.

Or if I pull at his hair or if he’s pulling on mine.

Whose breaths are filling whose lungs or whose limbs are tighter.

All I know is that we move as one. Our hips twist and slam into each other.

My tits shake and his chest scrapes against mine.

My heels dig into his back and his knees dig into the mattress for more leverage.

So he can go faster. So his cock can reach the parts of me that I didn’t think existed. Or if they did, I didn’t think anyone would be able to get there. Maybe this is what he was talking about back there. Being this close to someone.

Being this close to his wife. To me.

That’s when I come. At this very thought. That he’s making me his wife. He was right when he said he only forced me to sign those papers; I became his wife the moment I accepted my fate. And with his cock inside of me, my initiation is complete. I’m truly his now. Always. Forever.

Till death do us part.

So I fly over the edge and come all around him. My channel pulsing, making me moan out so loud that I drown out my own heartbeats. Not his noises, though. Because I hear him grunt and growl before he jerks over me, his hips losing their smooth rhythm and his cock throbbing inside of me.

I know there will be a lot of moments from tonight that I will remember for days to come, but I think the most memorable one will be him, coming inside of me. And then wrapping his arms around me and tucking his face in the crook of my neck, sighing.

Long and hard.

As if after eight years, he’s finally home.