Chapter 41 #2
He looks so beautiful, standing there and stroking himself.
Perfection carved with sin.
Even if I did kill him, like Aleksy had asked, and chose my own new husband, I’d never be satisfied. No one could measure up to Emilio.
Emilio strokes himself lazily, his thumb teasing the head. “Tell me you want my cock, Liliya.” His voice is almost pleading. I’ve never heard him sound so desperate.
He sways closer, caressing and cupping my breast. He stops stroking himself and lowers his head to suck on my hard nipple.
Pleasure rumbles through my entire body.
“I … I want your cock,” I say, my pulse skyrocketing.
His mouth moves to the other nipple, and I shudder at the feel of his facial hair, rough against my sensitive skin.
“Tell me how you’re going to make your husband’s cock feel good.” Grabbing my hand, he guides it to his erection.
Without delay, I wrap my fingers around him. “I’m going to make your cock feel so good,” I say, slowly stroking him.
He grips my waist and pulls me up. My hand falls from his cock as he wraps my legs around his hips and charges toward the chair in the corner. He drops down, taking me with him, and gives me time to adjust as I straddle him.
I drag my hips forward, running my wetness around his hard cock. My insides are on fire. With one arm, Emilio holds me up, and he uses the other to line his cock up with my entrance.
I don’t even wait for him, and he falls back in the chair as I impale myself on his cock. I throw my head back, thrusting my chest forward, as he fills me.
It’s perfection.
So good.
Emilio’s mouth moves back to my breasts.
He tugs on my nipple with his teeth.
Sucks on it.
Kisses between them.
All while I grind on his cock.
He holds my hips as I bounce on it.
The sound of us—moans, the wet smack of our bodies meeting, and my pants—fill the room like the perfect song.
Emilio grunts beneath me, calling my pussy perfection, and when I’m so close, I collapse my head and kiss him.
He slides his tongue into my mouth, dancing it with mine, and my body trembles as my orgasm washes through me.
I shove my face into his shoulder, biting into his sweaty skin as he clutches my waist. I have no energy to move, so he holds me tight as he thrusts his hips up, fucking me.
With each thrust, he releases a louder grunt.
Tells me how much he loves my pussy.
How he’s going to fucking destroy it every day, then kiss it better.
Then, my husband comes inside me.
The following morning, I wake up to an empty bed, as usual.
I smile, stretching beneath the sheets, and remember all the dirty things we did in this room last night. After I rode him on the chair, I figured we’d be exhausted.
Nope.
It was like our orgasms gave us energy that was the equivalent of a Red Bull.
Emilio bent me over the bed and fucked me again.
Then, after that, he ate my pussy until I fell apart.
I slip out of bed, put on my robe, and slide my feet into my slippers before shuffling downstairs to find Emilio in the kitchen. He’s shirtless, standing behind the island.
“It’s not a Maggie-level breakfast,” he says, nodding toward the open doughnut box in front of him, “but it’s breakfast.”
I stroll into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
The doughnuts look like something I’d choose when I was a kid, wanting a sugar high.
“Are these Lucky Charms?” I ask, picking one up. “On a … doughnut?”
He shrugs. “I told Franko to get one of everything.” He nudges the box closer to me.
I grab a napkin, drop the doughnut on it, and then motion toward the box. “I got one. Now, your turn. You need a full stomach to do all the murderous things on your to-do list for today.”
He shakes his head. “The only thing that I’ll murder is myself if I eat this shit.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “But you want me to die from it?”
“Terrible argument from me.” He grabs his own napkin. “Pick one for me.”
I scan the options before pointing at one with gummy worms.
“Fuck no,” he says around a grimace. “What’s option two?”
I point at one with toasted marshmallow and graham cracker crumbs.
“That’ll do.” He drops it onto his napkin.
I wait until he takes his bite before doing the same. I cringe at the shot of sugar that just entered my bloodstream.
After swallowing his bite, he wipes his mouth and says, “I need to do some things today. You have a few options to keep you busy.”
I pluck a marshmallow off my doughnut, toss it into my mouth, and raise a brow.
“You can volunteer with Genesis at the shelter, hang out with Gigi at Antonio’s, or sit in on one of Pippa’s dance classes.”
I tap my nails on the counter, remembering one of my conversations with the girls at Gigi’s brunch. “Genesis mentioned they’d lost their nurse at the shelter. Maybe I’ll help them out until they find a new one.”
“Finish up and get dressed, and then I’ll drop you off.” He smiles.
Yes, an actual smile from my husband.
I freeze mid-chew, dropping my doughnut, and almost make a joke.
But I stop myself.
I don’t want to mention it and risk him holding back his smile. He looks too handsome when he does it.