52. Stefan
52
STEFAN
“You’re not fucked … yet … anyway.”
Before she can say anything, I reach over, pick up the remote, and pop it onto the coffee table. Shuffling between Wren’s legs, I look down at her and it reminds me of last night when we got back from the chapel. Whereas now she’s complaining about her career, last night, she was complaining about her feet.
… Leaning against the wall with my ankles crossed, I watch my wife walk into our room. She brings the bottle of Bollinger to her lips and takes a sip. She moans as the crisp flavor of the bubbly dances over her tongue. My focus intensifies when some of the liquid spills out the side of her mouth. It slides down her throat and between the valley of her breasts. Whatever bra she’s wearing tonight, I need to send a thank you note to the designer because it makes her always amazing tits look phenomenal. “ Fuck my feet hurt,” Wren whines as she drops down onto the sofa.
Without thinking, I squat down in front of her and lift one of her stiletto-clad feet to my knee. Undoing the buckle, I remove her shoe and drop it to the floor before repeating the action to her other foot. Taking her foot in my hand, I rub my thumbs into the arch, earning myself a moan that heads straight to my dick. Repeating the action with her other foot, she ends up sitting back in the sofa with both her feet resting on my knees.
Sliding her foot up my thigh, she presses the ball of her foot into my growing erection. Swallowing deeply, I run the palm of my hand up her calf and between her thighs. Slipping my hand under the hem of her dress, I continue up to her thong. The material is soaked as I rub my finger up and down her slit. She moans as I press my finger between her lips. Finding her clit, I press my thumb into her bundle of nerves. “Stefan,” she huskily whispers.
“Mmmhmpf?”
“What … what are you doing?” she asks as I push her thong to the side and finally get skin-on-skin contact. Her lips are puffy, hot and wet. I want nothing more than to bury my face in her mound and breathe in her scent before devouring her delectable pussy.
With my eyes locked on hers, I tell her exactly what I plan on doing … which surprisingly, does not involve my face between her legs. “I’m going to finger my wife, and then I’m going to fuck her until she can’t remember her name.” Before she can reply, I grip the side of her thong and tear it from her body. Dropping the shredded material to the carpet, I slide my hand back between her thighs and push a finger into her.
“Fuck,” she pants.
Thrusting my digit in and out of her, her walls clench my finger. Her breathing becomes erratic but I’m not ready to let her come yet. So I pull my hand out and bring it to my lips but at the last second, I reach out and press my finger into her mouth. She licks her juices from my finger.
“Stefan,” she pleads.
“Tell me what you want, wife?”
“I … I want your fingers and your dick. I … I just want you.”
“As you wish,” I tell her.
Shoving two fingers back into her, she grips my shoulders for support and squeezes tightly as she rides my hand. Once again, I begin to thrust my fingers in and out of her. Her head drops back in ecstasy. Inserting a third finger, I bring her to the edge. “I’m close,” she hisses through clenched teeth. Just when she’s about to come, I pull my hand from between her thighs. Her head snaps up and she growls, “What the fuck?”
With my eyes locked on hers, I bring my fingers to my lips and suck. Her juices are tangy and sweet but right now, I want to fuck her. I want her to ride me and scream my name when she comes. I want the whole hotel to know my name, but right now my wife is pissed off at being left hanging.
Shocking the shit out of me, she slaps my hand from my mouth and pushes on my shoulders. She knocks me onto my ass and throws her leg over me. Leaning down, she covers my mouth with hers. Her tongue licks into mine and she twines her fingers into my hair and pulls in punishment for edging her.
Tensing my core, I push myself upright and hold Wren to me. She wraps her legs around me as our tongues battle it out.
My cock is painfully hard within my pants, pressing into her slit. The only barrier between us is my clothes. She swivels her hips and I feel her smile into our kiss when I groan at the sensation.
Pulling back, she’s breathlessly panting. She stares into my eyes and huskily demands, “Dear husband of mine, I want you to fuck me now.”
Her words snap me back to the present, and I smile when I realize she said the same thing last night. “What did you say?”
“I said, I want you to fuck me now. Make me forget the clusterfuck that is my life. Give me a moment of pleasure before I have to face reality.”
“What my wife wants, my wife gets.”
Before she has a chance to second-guess her decision, I throw her over my shoulder and march into the bedroom. Tossing her down onto the mattress she squeals and giggles. Shuffling up to the pillows, she lies back and stares at me. The air around us is thick with desire.
“You seem to be overdressed, wife.”
“I’m not your wife,” she throws back at me as she reaches down and shimmies about to pull her dress off, leaving her in her bra and a G-string.
“Better?”
Ignoring her, I rest my knee on the mattress, grip her ankle, and drag her toward the end of the bed. Gripping the edge of her panties, I rip them from her. The flimsy material disintegrates from the force.
“That’s the second pair of panties you’ve shredded.”
“Maybe you should stop wearing them.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Then deal with the shredding. Now, remove your bra and let me make you forget about all your worries for a few hours.”
“Hours?”
“Yep, hours.”