Chapter 82
Ethan
My lids lower as I watch Tilda’s tits jiggle.
As I watch all of her jiggle.
Keeping my eyes on her, I step back until I can reach the door, and I flip the dead bolt.
My heart has never beat so hard.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt such instant fear before.
The engine failing in the air.
Even the first mountain lion across the river.
Which I bet is the same mountain lion.
I step closer to the bed.
Tilda sits up.
I was lying on the bed, right where she is now, listening to her splashing around in that damn bucket.
It was torture.
I knew she was naked. Standing outdoors. Surrounded by the forest.
My literal Mountain Fairy.
And I cracked. Gave into the craving.
With zero shame, I stood from the bed, went to the doorway, and I watched her.
Stared at her as she glistened with water droplets in the waning sun.
And it took me too long.
I spent too long staring at her ass, focused on the spot of sweetness between her legs as she bent over. And I didn’t notice.
Didn’t notice the stillness.
Didn’t see where her attention was.
Didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until I heard that chirp.
I take another step closer to the bed.
That fucking chirp.
It’s a friendly sound. Not one of aggression. A curious cat checking things out.
But a cat checking out my girl.
And that’s when the fear hit.
It consumed me as I reached for my gun.
It filled my lungs as I rushed out of the cabin.
It pressed down on my heart.
Because for just a moment.
A second.
I thought of a life without Matilda in it.
My mind tried to imagine an existence where I had her and lost her. And I couldn’t.
I couldn’t imagine it.
My future was nothing but a void.
I take the gun out from where I tucked it into my waistband and set it on a bin near the foot of the bed.
“Ethan?”
I lift my gaze slowly.
Tilda’s sock-covered feet. The way her calves curve. Her bent knees. Her thighs squeezed together.
Her soft stomach.
Her arms crossed over her full breasts. Hiding those piercings.
Those fucking piercings.
I lift my eyes to her throat. To the flush of her cheeks. To her parted lips.
I lift my gaze to hers.
“You did a good job calling for me.” I step forward, stopping when my legs bump against the foot of the bed. “And I need you to do it again.”
“Wha—”
I reach down, grip her knees, and drag her toward me.
She falls onto her back, and I don’t stop until her ass is at the very edge of the mattress.
But I don’t let go of her legs.
I spread them.
“Ethan,” she gasps. But she doesn’t struggle.
I keep her legs open as I lower to the ground, kneeling between them.
I lower my face to her bare pussy, stopping with my mouth an inch from her core.
And I breathe her in.
I inhale the scent of my wife.
My fingers flex against her thighs, her flesh molding perfectly to my touch.
She makes a whimpering sound, and I keep my face where it is, but I lift my eyes to hers. “I need you to be loud, Starlight. I need to hear you moan.” I lean in, just a little. Until my lips are brushing against her smooth flesh. “Show me how alive you are.”
She opens her mouth.
And so do I.
I lean into her, flatten my tongue against her. And I lick.
I lick the length of her slit.
Then I do it again.
And on the third pass, I press in. I part her folds with my tongue, and I taste my wife.
Tilda lets out a strangled sound.
I do it again.
And again.
I push my tongue into her as far as I can.
I feel the heat of her against my mouth.
I consume her.
Tilda groans and presses her heels against my shoulders.
I groan back, sending vibrations through her body. And she squirms.
I palm the backs of her thighs and push her legs up, so her feet lift off my shoulders.
Her poor, injured feet.
I lick the length of her again.
“Ethan. Oh my gods.” I glance up to see her hands reaching for me, but when I push my tongue into her hole, she gives up and reaches for her tits instead.
She pinches her nipples. The light catches on her piercing. And I growl against her slit.
Tilda’s neck arches.
And I press my tongue against her, dragging it all the way up this time. And when I reach her clit, when I feel that warm pearl of sweetness, I suck.
Tilda cries out.
She squeezes her tits.
And I keep my mouth sealed over her bundle of nerves as I continue to create suction.
I suck and I lick and I trace every contour with the tip of my tongue.
“I… I…” Tilda’s labored breathing fills the cabin.
I trail my hand down the inside of her thigh, my other hand still holding her legs spread.
Then I lean back. So I can watch.
So I can see as I slide my middle finger through the wetness coating her lips.
“Perfect fucking pussy.”
I push my finger inside her.
Heat clenches around me.
And a sound of satisfaction leaves my throat.
I pull it out.
Then I push two fingers into my Tilda.
We both groan.
I twist my wrist. I rub my fingers against the inside of her. And I drop my mouth back to her bud.
Her clit is practically pulsing.
I lap at it.
I suck on it.
I rock my hips against nothing.
My cock is so hard.
Leaking.
And I want to fuck her.
I want to shove my dick into Tilda. Want to come deep inside her.
But I want her to come against my tongue more.
“Take it out,” Tilda pants. “Ethan, take it out.”
I lift my head, my mouth leaving her pussy. And I start to slide my fingers out.
“No.” She shakes her head. “Your cock.” She tilts her hips, like she’s trying to get my fingers deeper. “Take your cock out. I want to watch you stroke it.”
I push my fingers in until they’re as deep as they can go.
Then I reach down with my other hand and jerkily undo my jeans.
“Is it out?” Tilda arches her neck, trying to see.
I lean back, sitting on my heels, and drag the front of my boxer briefs down.
I pull my dick free. “It’s out.”
Tilda moans. “Good Boy. Now stroke it.”
I slowly drag my fingers out of her heat as I drag my other hand down my length.
I stroke up. I push my fingers in. And my lids lower as I pant at the sight of it all.
Tilda shifts up onto her elbows, trying to see below the foot of the bed.
Trying to see me.
I keep my fingers deep inside her pussy.
I rub my thumb against her clit.
And I lift up onto my knees, bringing my cock into her view.
Her eyes bounce from one hand, between her legs, to the other, stroking my length.
“Like what you see, Wife?”
Her pussy clenches around my fingers, giving me her answer even as she nods.
“Tell me what you want.” I squeeze my dick tighter. “Tell me what to do.”
“Keep… keep stroking.” Tilda’s words are choppy. “But make me come with your tongue.”
I tighten every one of my muscles, trying to control my reaction to her demands.
I increase the pressure of my thumb on her clit as I lean down. “And when can I come?”
“After me.” Tilda drops her knees to the side, opening herself to me. “You can come after me. But not before.”
Lust pulses through my blood as I lean in and replace my thumb with my tongue.
“That’s it.” Tilda shifts her weight onto one elbow, reaches down, and grips my hair. “That’s my Good Boy.” She tilts her hips. “Don’t stop.” She moans and tightens her hold on my hair. “I’m almost…”
I keep licking.
Keep dragging my tongue over her bundle of nerves as I pull my two fingers out of her heat. And push three back in.
“Oh my… Yes…” She can’t stay still.
And I’m ready to fucking blow.
I hum against Tilda’s pussy.
“Ethan…” Her hips rock. “I’m… I’m gonna come.”
I seal my lips around her clit. Push my fingers deeper. And hum again.
She combusts.
Her body arches and her head tips back as she lets out a whine of pleasure.
Her core throbs around my fingers. Against my tongue. And she soaks my chin.
I don’t let up.
Don’t stop.
Not until she tells me to.
Not until she pulls roughly on my hair.
I press my tongue flat against her as I look up her luscious body, into her sated eyes.
“Stop.” She drops her hand from my hair.
I freeze all motion, my dick hard as an axe handle in my grip.
“Stand up. And let me watch.” Tilda drops onto her back and drapes her arms above her head.
I pull my fingers free of her as I stand.
The bed is low.
She’s below me, looking up.
I’m in the position of power. But I have none of it.
It all belongs to her.
“Stroke your dick.”
I do.
Her eyes rove all over my body.
My cock. My stomach. My face.
“Are you close?”
I nod. “So fucking close.”
“Do you want to come?”
“God. Yes.” My bicep bulges as I continue to stroke. And, fuck, I’m so close. “Please,” I beg. “Please tell me I can come.”
Tilda makes a throaty humming sound. “Lick your fingers clean, then you can.”
Pressure builds in my balls.
That sentence is going to be burned into my memory until the day I die.
“Where?” I look down at her glorious body as I lift my fingers to my mouth. “Where should I come?”
I part my lips. And I lock my gaze with Tilda’s as I lick her shine off my fingers.
“On me.” She whispers the demand. “Come on me.” I suck a finger into my mouth, filling my senses with her taste. “Now, Ethan. Come now.”
My body obeys, and the first pulse of release splashes across her stomach.
The second lands on her tits.
“Good Boy.”
I keep stroking.
“That’s my Good Boy.”
I keep painting her with my pleasure.
Tilda lowers one hand and drags a finger through the streak on her tits, and my cock jolts a final time.
A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I sway.
I blink away the spots in my vision.
But then I see Tilda with her finger in her mouth.
The finger she just dragged through my release.
And my balls pulse again.