Chapter Thirty-Three
In which we did not know you could use makeup brushes like that.
Liria…
"I'm holding you responsible for tonight, you know." Alexsey asks, knotting his tie. He's standing behind me, looking at his reflection in the mirror as I put on my makeup.
Carefully lining my eyelids, "Don't blame this on me. Your mother thought it would be a nice distraction. And to be honest, I really like operas."
"You owe me for this," he says. Watching his expression in the mirror, I'm mildly alarmed. I know that look.
"We have to be there at seven, your mother was quite insistent," I mumble. His gaze is traveling down in a thorough visual sweep, from my cleavage in this glittery red dress to the long slit that shows most of my thigh.
It is possible that I might have selected this particular dress to keep Alexsey interested during the opera. An occasional crossing of my legs to give him a glimpse of my matching thong, an item of clothing I hate because it feels like a constant wedgie. I think the sacrifice will be worth it.
His big hand slides into the slit on my dress without warning and he pulls the skirt aside. "Red. Fuck, these are hot on you. Your gorgeous ass outlined in red silk?"
I put the mascara wand down. "Hey, mister! I don't recall you asking to feel me up."
"Keep putting your makeup on," he says, his gaze on my ass.
I try. I really try but when he gives one cheek a sharp nip, I shriek. "Hey!"
"Don't move." His voice is deeper, guttural and I know there's no stopping him now. "What's the next thing you put on?"
His hand is running up and down my thighs and I stare at the contents of my makeup bag like I've never seen them before. "Uh… blush." I pick up the big, fluffy makeup brush I use for that and Alexsey plucks it out of my hand.
"Perfect."
"What are you doing- oh, that." I grip the edge of the counter as he flicks the brush over my ass.
Before I can protest, he's hooking a finger into the gusset of my insubstantial undies and pulling them off, lifting my foot to remove them.
He holds the silk up to his nose, keeping my gaze while he breathes in.
I can feel my face heat up, why is that so embarrassing?
Once Alexsey discovered that taking my underwear makes me cringe, he does it all the time.
Standing up again, he tucks my undies in his pocket with a dark little smile.
"Spread your legs."
This dress might have been a mistake. I do, and he easily pushes my dress up. He's running the soft brush along my inner thighs and I drop my little pot of blush in the sink.
"So wet already?" He pretends to be disappointed, but I see the gleam in his eye. "You're going to ruin this brush." He swipes it between my legs, lingering on my clitoris, flicking it back and forth.
"Oh, well…" I wheeze, putting my hands on the mirror so I don't fall headfirst into the basin. "I have others."
He glances up at me, grinning. "Really. We'll have to try them all out.
But for now…" His hand twists and now the long wooden handle of the makeup brush is running along my pussy, pressing down hard on my clitoris, already wildly sensitive, with each stroke.
I open my bleary eyes to see my red cheeks, no blush needed.
Something hard enters me and I gasp, slapping my hand against the mirror. "Did you-"
Alexsey pushes the handle inside me, pressing it firmly against all those sensitive little spots in my channel. He's shown me so many more than I thought there could possibly be, and now he's pushing the handle in and out, fast, and hard.
"This is only about the size of one of my fingers, isn't it?" His gaze is fixed between my legs, enjoying the filthy sight of fucking me with my makeup brush. "You need more than this, don't you?" His eyes meet mine now, dark and knowing like he's read every dirty thought I've ever had.
"It's not enough," I gasp. "You know that."
Pulling the brush out, slick and wet from being inside me, he presses it higher up against my suddenly anxious little pucker. "Have you ever been fucked here?" He slides the tapered end in, just a bit.
"Y- you know I haven't."
"I'm going to fuck your tight little ass," he grins, pushing the brush in another bit.
"Not tonight. But you're going to feel me everywhere.
" Pulling the brush handle out, he tosses it aside and rips the zipper down on his pants, his cock is already hard and ready and he thrusts it inside me without any gentle stretching.
It's an invasion, his thickness stretching me wide.
"How can I still be surprised how big you are?
" I gasp it out between thrusts and he chuckles, putting his hand around my throat.
His fingers are wet and they smell like me.
They tighten just enough for me to know how strong my husband is.
That this isn't finished until he decides it is.
My hips are banging against the vanity as he bends his knees, shoving his cock in harder, angling his hips until I scream, slapping the mirror again.
"There it is…" he murmurs, "even when you think you can't fit any more of me inside you, there's always a bit more room if I push hard enough.
" His hand tightens on my neck, the slightest flex of his fingers but it's enough for my vision to dim, a soft, floaty feeling taking over as I blindly reach back, holding the back of his neck, trying to ground myself, my body rocking back and forth and his hoarse, filthy compliments.
"Nothing's sweeter than this. Tight, squeezing me like you want to keep me inside you. I want a day where I stay inside you. Warming my cock, rubbing your clit against me, trying to come, feeling me stretch you open for hours."
He must realize my hips are banging against the vanity, because he puts his forearm there, holding me in place and his thrusts hit harder.
"When you come for me," he grunts, "you always arch your back, and press harder.
You want it to hurt, don't you?" His arm tightens and he lifts me slightly and I realize my clit is pressing right against the corner of the marble top to the sink.
"Oh fuck, Alexsey, that's too-" Words desert me.
The cold, hard edge of the marble is rolling my wet clit, back and forth with just the right pressure.
It's lewd and strange and it's making me come.
I can feel it, barreling up my spine and down again, cycling through my center, making my legs shake.
"Don't come yet," my monster husband warns. He stops everything, cock still thick inside me, my clitoris abused by the marble. "I didn't give you permission."
"Wha- is this something new?" My voice has gone up to a pitch high enough to only be understood by bees.
"You're greedy." He licks the slope of my shoulder to my neck. "Squirming and eager to come. So focused on the finish line."
I don't know how he's doing this. The tip of his cock is wedged just inside me, his arms wrapped around me, holding me immobile, unable to move, his cock just sitting there when I need it inside me.
"I want to come," I groan, dipping my head to spitefully bite his bicep. "I know you want to come." He's so damn tall that my legs are dangling, and I kick his shin. He doesn't even twitch, laughing at me.
"Yes, I have never wanted anything more than to come inside you right now," Alexsey says, biting my neck in retaliation. "But you're not having what you want until I give you permission."
"I hate you so much right now." I'm half sobbing and half whining and one hundred percent insane with need.
"Hmmm…" he hums against my skin. "I don't think so.
I think you love my cock." His hips move, just a fraction but I can feel the stretch I need, the beginning of the burn that makes me come.
"I think you love how I fuck you." My eyes open and I stare at him in the mirror.
He's not looking down to where we're joined together.
My husband is looking at me. "I think you love-"
One crystalline moment. Where time is frozen and I know he's going to say it. To say he loves me. I'm stunned with how desperately I want to hear it. To tell him I love him too, and about the life growing inside me, an accident, but a creation from us both.
"I think you love to come all over me, make me slick," he finishes.
With one harsh thrust and a vicious rub against the cold marble, I detonate.
I wail and thrash and grind down on him and squeeze so even when he tries to move again, I keep him inside me.
With a tortured groan, he comes, too. His hand sliding up from my neck to cup my cheek, bringing me back for a kiss as I'm filled with heat and wet until it drips from me.