TWENTY | Heated Bliss | Tinsley
TWENTY
Heated Bliss
Tinsley
O ur kiss was maddening and unlike anything I had ever experienced before. My earth quaked with a vocalic shake and black dots danced behind my closed eyes. Mitt swirled his tongue in my mouth at a skilled pace, and I eagerly enjoyed his talent. I followed his lead, but added in some teasing of my own.
A hungry growl escaped him and roared inside of my mouth as he took me deeper into him until I couldn’t think about my next step—my ultimate move in pleasing him—because his dominance was far too strong. He overpowered me, but I loved every damn minute of his delicious, expert mouth. Until Mitt pulled back, breaking the demanding kiss and leaving me breathless.
I clung to him, purring for my husband. “Mitt, please, please don’t stop.”
Mitt took another drink of the hot chocolate, not wasting a beat as he gulped it down and some hot cocoa dribbled onto his chest. Trickled down his skin as I watched the liquid and craved him. I needed him badly, and my self-control was at its limit.
“Why are you—”
Mitt pressed a finger against my lips.
“Shut the fuck up and be a good little slut for me, Wife.”
Immediately, he pressed his hot mouth against my bare skin and moved downward slowly, at an agonizing pace, as my heartbeat flooded my ears and my moan circulated through the room. The sounds coming out of me were unstoppable, and I barely recognized myself as his teeth nipped at my flesh. He tugged at each nipple and lapped his tongue over my tender peaks multiple times.
His journey continued as he headed down over my navel and dipped his tongue inside of my belly button. The sensitive touch made me quiver as his muscular hands bit into my hips, and his mouth reached his destination. His lips worked over every goosebump, every inch of heated flesh, until his teeth found the elastic of my thong.
I peered down at him, my hands firmly gripped his brown hair, and my breath hitched as he groaned up at me. Mitt’s eyes were full of passion for me as he watched me from below, and I waited for his next move. Time paused in that moment as we gazed at one another and couldn’t turn away. Locked inside a crazy inferno, we had created a sexual frenzy to be closer than I knew we should be, but my husband had been far too sweet. Too unlike his grumpy self, and the tension between us was far past its breaking point. We busted at the seams.
Unbelievably enough, I gasped as Mitt ripped my thong with his teeth. He tore the fabric into two pieces as the garment fell from my curves and to the floor at my feet.
“Mitt!” I cried out as he pushed me backward, and I fell onto the bed.
“My angel is going to come,” Mitt groaned as he loomed from above, and I took in the sight of my extremely aroused husband. “And I’m going to make you scream my name for the rest of your days.”
“What happens if I beat you to it?” I teased.
Mitt’s eyes snapped in the direction my hands traveled as I surprised him by inching the icicle down my heated flesh. Water trickled from the crystal as I guided it between my cleavage and liquid pooled in my belly button. He watched with flared nostrils. He was a raging bull of passion. I waved a cape of temptation right in his face, and he was ready to strike—prepared to take me down and have his way with me.
“I won’t have it,” Mitt said, his chest heaving.
I spread my legs open and gave him the perfect view of my pink paradise. The frozen water moved lower, over my hairless pussy, right on top of my clit. In a split second, the chill bit into me, and I whimpered. The sweet sound made Mitt groan, and he moved, but I pushed the tips of my toes against his thigh. He stopped, but his eyes never wavered from me as I circled the ice against the throbbing ache between my thighs and dipped two fingers inside of me. Engulfed in the moment, I rolled my eyes back and bit my lip harder until I was sure I tasted blood. I loved the power I held over my husband, and I wanted more. So much more.
“Fuck,” Mitt growled.
My cunt’s walls were swollen and warm, it made me excited. Juices spilled past my fingers as I worked them slowly in and out. The fire in the pit of my belly brewed as I stirred the pot of heat and was ready to spill.
A quiver of lust ran through me, my back arched against the bed, but I held my climax back. I wanted to see Mitt squirm. But only for a bit longer.
“Why?” I moaned with my lips partially parted. “How come you won’t let me entertain myself? I thought men enjoyed that.”
“I’m not a regular man, angel,” Mitt said with certainty as he ran his fingers along my feet and sent chills up my leg. “I’m your husband.”
Mitt grabbed the back of my heel and roughly pulled me forward. My ass was at the foot of the bed, and he spread my legs wide with his hands running down the inside of my trembling thighs. Instantly, he was on his knees, and his head was right at my floodgates, ready to dive right in. He pulled my fingers out from my pussy and licked his tongue up the entirety of my slit.
I whimpered, “Oh, shit!”
“I don’t ever want my wife coming all over her hand when she can come on me instead,” Mitt added as his warm breath tickled my cunt and desire flurried in me.
Mitt moved the icicle to the side as he grazed my clit between his teeth, and I tried to hold back the storm building inside, the heat climbing higher and higher, ready to blast through my front door. It was too soon, and my dear husband had only begun. I wanted to enjoy this swirling world of bliss for a little while longer.
Immediately, I dropped the icicle. My hands fisted into the bed sheets as his teeth let go, and Mitt’s tongue replaced them with a flick. A gasp escaped my throat as my hips bucked, and I closed my eyes. I let my sensations take over, no longer able to watch him as he placed the icicle against my thigh. The coolness from the chunk of ice made me squirm as he brought it inward, and his mouth worked on my clit. He licked, sucked, flicked, and fluttered against me. The heat seared to a bubbling point until he removed his mouth, and an icy chill followed.
“Oh, fuck!” I cried out.
My eyes snapped open.
I gazed up only to see Mitt grin and dip his head back between my legs. His mouth was warm against me and his eyes watched me as I threaded my fingers through his hair and held on for dear life. My lower body quivered from the mixed sensations of hot and cold, his temperature play driving me insane. His hazel gaze glowed with desire as his tongue played with my clit all over again, and he brought me closer to where he wanted.
I was a wild, wonton woman at the mouth of her husband in his bed.
“Mm...” Mitt groaned against my pussy, and his whiskers teased me. “Such a fucking sweet wife.”
Mitt pulled back.
“What are you doing?” I questioned breathlessly, letting go of his hair.
Mitt reached over to the bedside table, and he took the mug. He blew against the steam, and I shivered at the thought of his mouth doing the same gesture to me. His eyes were the same as the Big Bad Wolf, ready to blow the house down. Except there was no little piggie inside to feast upon. Only a scorching hot pussy waiting for my husband to huff and puff, attacking my little puss in heat.
Mitt didn’t answer me as he took a drink and ran the chunk of ice over my navel. I hissed at the commotion stirring in my belly until he replaced the chill with the heat of his tongue, moving the same distance as the cold icicle. I yelped in surprise while he stopped and took another gulp of hot chocolate, but he didn’t swallow it. He held the hot beverage in his mouth for a few seconds before he spit the liquid into the ravine of my belly button.
“I always prefer my hot chocolate with a sweet treat,” Mitt said as he dipped a white marshmallow into the pool of chocolate goodness and took a bite. “Fuck. Tastes even better from your gorgeous curves, angel.”
Then my husband licked up the drink from my navel. He gulped the beverage down, leaving a hint of it on his whiskers as he grinned wickedly, and he proceeded to move back between my thighs. His mouth dove right back in, and he didn’t even give me a second to process what he had done.
“Oh, fuck, Mitt!” I cried out.
Quickly, without a thought, my fingers slid back into his hair, and he grazed his skilled muscle up the entirety of my slit. The tip of his tongue flicked the most sensitive area of me while his teeth immediately pulled flesh between them. He tugged, and I whimpered for more until he let go. His tongue plunged inside my tight pussy, the walls contracting against him as he ate me out.
The wild sounds he made as his mouth ravished me only made me push his face in deeper. I couldn’t get enough of him and wanted much more—needed so much more—and craved him even more than I ever had before. Mitt had set me on fire, thrashing on the bed, my head tossed back with my eyes rolling into the back of my head. Uncontrollable screams of passion tore from me, and my back arched until he pulled out his tongue.
“No, don’t stop. Don’t—” my protest ended when two fingers plunged in, and I whimpered in complete ecstasy.
Next, I felt the sting of ice against my throbbing clit. The point of the icicle was now rounded from melting, and Mitt circled it against my sensitive flesh. My hips had a mind of their own and rolled with each rotating motion.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I cried out repeatedly.
White dots flashed behind my eyelids, and my entire body quaked with an uncontrollable need. The frozen heat swirled higher like a snowflake lost in a winter storm, but the skies had opened up and let the sunlight in. The illumination overtook me, and I let myself go, free-falling into pure utopia, giving into my need for release. My husband’s name was the only words screaming from my satisfied mouth.
Breathless, I lay there for a few moments after my heartbeat stopped pounding in my ears, and the blood finished rushing to my head. I couldn’t move, my body was completely pleased with Mitt’s effort to make me only remember him. He made me no longer fear icicles and only think of him. Goddamn, I was incredibly wet. Underneath my ass cheeks, I had soaked the sheets. A mix of my juices and water from the ice, which was now almost melted in my husband’s hand.
God, Mitt knew how to turn up the heat!
My husband put the remains of the small piece of ice back in the ice bucket and the area surrounding his mouth glistened in the light. Heat rose to my cheeks, and Mitt must’ve noticed because he smirked at me. He was fucking gorgeous. I could jump his bones and forget all my embarrassment and discomfort I felt from coming in his mouth and leaving a mess on his face.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“No,” Mitt interrupted me. “Never apologize.”
My husband surprised me when he took his fingers, wiped off my juices from his whiskers, and licked his fingers clean.
“Fuck. You were so damn good, Wife, coming all over my face,” Mitt praised me and lifted me into his arms. “But it’s time for me to tuck you in, angel.”
Carefully, Mitt pulled back the bedsheet and laid my head against the fluffy pillow—an extremely soft padding, they must contain top quality feathers plucked straight from a rare bird and stuffed a million times over into the casing. Only top value for Mitt Morgan’s smoking hot head, which contained a mouth that could eat out a pussy.
Mitt covered me up and patted the sheet in place before he went to his side of the bed. I gulped. I was frozen in place out of disbelief from letting Mitt devour my cunt the way he had. I should’ve withstood the temptation and my inner urge, but I couldn’t. My husband had me lost in the moment, utterly consumed. This was the man whom I had hated so much I wanted him to grant me a divorce, but now my head spun with confusion all over again.
Instead of cowering, I turned to Mitt. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes. I did,” Mitt said as he laid on his back and peered up at the ceiling.
“Why?” I questioned. “There must be some reason, other than you won’t have me going around feeling terrified.”
Mitt turned his head to me. “I understand what it’s like to feel scared as a child. Afraid beyond belief but trapped inside a nightmare with no way out.”
I scooted closer to Mitt and propped my head up in my hand, tracing the scars on his chest I was sure were cigarette burns. “Are these from the fear you experienced?”
Something changed in Mitt’s eyes, and he winced as if I had caused him pain. The softness left him and he turned ice cold. Bitterness nipped at me as he retreated and closed off all emotion, leaving me with an empty shell of a man.
“No. Those are nothing,” Mitt snapped and pushed my hand away.
I pressed. “Who did this to you?”
A sliver of hope stirred in his eyes as if my words had affected him, but Mitt masked everything with a blank face. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does, Mitt,” I argued. “Did he give you these cigarette burns? Did your father do this to you?”
Mitt simply pulled away from me and ignored my question. But his silence was all the answer I needed. Cyprus Morgan was far more sinister than I had ever imagined. He had abused his son, his only child, and traumatized him to the point he thought there was no way out. Mitt’s father continued to use him when he should love him unconditionally, not betray his already tainted trust.
I watched in silence as Mitt rolled over and didn’t speak a word. Cyprus had done this to him and made his son into a bitter person. He had made a man as powerful as Mitt incapable of love. But as I closed my eyes to shut down the sadness inside, I wondered what else my father-in-law was capable of.