Chapter 27 #2
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 and coaxing, 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 fingers clenched 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.”
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.
If I wanted, I could voice my safe word right now. Yet, I don’t. I can’t.
“How does this pussy stay, Cecilia, hmm?”
Crap. My hands must have slipped at some point.
“I said, how?”
“O-Open,” I murmur.
“Open. That’s right. And if you let go?”
I hide my face in the sheets then bring it to the side again. “We start all over again.”
“Lovely,” he says, and then a sharp pain flashes through my throbbing slit. I gasp, my eyes fluttering open, hot tingles spreading through my flesh like needles. The feeling lingers for a few short seconds before pleasure replaces it.
He…spanked me. He spanked my pussy.
“So be a good girl—” Smack! “—and keep your cunt—” Smack! “open the way I asked.” Smack! “Yes?”
By the time he’s done, I’m soaked, heaving, and at a loss for words. My legs stretch and bend on their own accord as I writhe on the sheets, my pussy sensitive and wanton. When he touches me again, he’s gentle, stroking me softly, as if he’s not the same man he was a moment ago.
“I asked you a question.”
That endearing tone again.
“Y-Yes.” I swallow. “Yes. I’m sorry,” I rush to say, snaking my arms down to spread my folds for him again.
He’s silent now, and his touches have stopped.
He’s watching me, letting me wait for him to resume whenever he feels like it.
All the while, I lie here with my pussy open in offering.
God, how he toys with me. How can I love this so much?
How can I need him so much that any pride and any sanity I was hanging on to is slipping away from me?
When he finally cups my slit a few moments later, every gentle stroke of that finger against my openings feels like blazing heat followed by a snowstorm. Hot and cold. Pleasant and agonizing from all the stimulation he’s been unleashing on me.
“Mhm, just like that. Keep going for me, sweetheart.”
My second orgasm—mad-driven, harsh, and spontaneous—hits me completely out of nowhere.
I clench and pulse and squirm, my body giving out again before his eyes.
Tears of pleasure and overwhelm wet my cheeks, and when I open my eyes, the look on his face is ravenous, like I’ve done something merely by surrendering that flipped a switch inside him.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, my chest shuddering with soft sobs. I don’t even know why I’m crying. I just am.
He stands, and I don’t fail to notice the enormous bulge in his pants even through my hazy vision. Did all that turn him on? I have no idea how I’ll be able to reciprocate to this extent.
The mattress dips under his weight as he crawls above me, the scent of his cologne mixing with that of my wetness—a sweet, tangy smell that proves just how responsive my body was. He leans in, looking as if he wants to kiss me, so I close my eyes, desperate to feel the touch of his lips on mine.
“Don’t cry, Lastochka. It makes me want to lick you again.”
His tongue darts out, tasting the wet spots on my cheeks with a groan.
I suck in a breath, partly mesmerized, partly confused.
Does he like seeing me cry? The thought makes my clit flutter for reasons I can’t explain.
Maybe I enjoy a little pain. Or maybe I just like him looking at me like he can’t get enough.
I place my trembling hands on his chest, pulling at the buttons of his shirt as I wrap my legs around his torso. A swift motion has both my wrists locked in one of his hands as he pins them above my head. I gasp, my toes curling when his other hand goes back to my used pussy.
“I don’t know if…if I can come again,” I smile through my tears.
“Oh, but you will. You let your hands slip, twice now, even though I warned you. So, we’ll take all night if we have to, but you’re coming for me again,” he says, smearing my wetness in lazy circles between my folds as he stares into my shaking eyes.
Swallowing, I let that wicked finger slide inside me again. And again. And again. Until a sheer layer of sweat coats my temples as I take every single one of his torturous strokes with a moan.
“Mikhail…I can’t…” I whisper. “No more. It’s too much.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” he drawls with false sympathy. “Give me your pussy and be quiet. One more.”
My eyes roll back with pleasure, his words my undoing. Out of everything that could’ve happened tonight, him making me come a thousand times wasn’t one. What about him, though? I’m supposed to reciprocate somehow. I want to.
“Y-You…” I manage between tight breaths. “You haven’t come yet.”
“And?”
“Well, I want to make you feel…” I moan. “Good. Please, Mikhail.”
“What makes you think I don’t feel good already?”
My fingers are slipping from where I’m holding my pussy open for him. His eyes flick there, noticing, and I strengthen my grip, opening myself even more than before, despite how sensitive every bit of my flesh feels. I simply can’t take another round of orgasms, so I do my best to obey him.
A hum of approval follows as he caresses my clit with his fingers, making me shiver. “If I wanted to take you all the way now, I could,” he says. “But I only get to see you like this for the first time once, and I’m not going to rush it, no matter how sweetly you beg me.”
“But I—I…” I mumble, feeling the crest of another imminent orgasm, the rest of the words fading on my tongue.
“One more, sweetheart. One more.”