36. Lavender
“You’re sobeautiful when you come.” Raif’s fingers slide wisps of hair from my face, his eyes expressive and tender. His fingers find my mouth, and I moan as he peels my lip down, exposing the soft flesh to his tongue. His kisses sear and taste of me. Musk and heat and my desire for him.
“You good?”
The question catches me off guard, bringing a lump to my throat. I nod.
“Because, if I did anything…”
I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, closing the tiny space between us as I press my head to the curve of his neck. I whimper his name, then say, “I loved it. Please don’t hold back.”
His lashes lower, and he inhales. “I’m gonna take our time.” He reaches for the concealed zipper at my side, the teeth a slow click, before the sides parting to his kiss against my ribs.
“You’re like a half-unwrapped gift.” He reveals the round of my breast, the curve of my hip, each touch deliberate and making me shiver. “Lift up.”
Between us, we work my dress down, where it drops to the floor. I let out a shaking breath as I stare at the bright and unforgiving overhead light. But I don’t feel lacking or inadequate, judging by the hungry longing in his eyes.
“So fucking beautiful.” His touch coasts from collarbone to cunt, light and deft, and heightens my arousal way past ten. Roughened fingertips against tender skin, his fingers trail and swirl, reaching my nipple in a series of soft, teasing touches. He captures my nipple between his knuckles in a soft tug.
“I don’t think you’re broken,” he whispers. “Not one bit of you. You’re a survivor. Like me.” His eyes meet mine in a flash of sincerity, but it is just as flash as he frames my breast in his hand, his head lowering. “You’re strong. You do what needs to be done. You’re already so, so perfect.”
I whimper as his tongue licks and cry out at his next compliment.
“I’m in awe of you. And I’m going to fuck you until your body bleeds my name.”
“Oh God.”
He begins to move down my body, his lips sliding across my skin, sucking and licking me with such ease and skill. His knees hit the floor, his hands folding around my hips. With a tug, he pulls me across the bed, closer to him.
His thumb slides across my slit, and I exhale a taut-sounding breath. I swallow back a whimper and push up onto my elbows, my insides fiery and molten as his breath coasts between my legs.
His gaze lifts but not his head, his smile all kinds of sexy. “You’re watching.”
I nod but offer no words.
“Those eyes.”
I gasp, everything in me drawing tight as his thumb slips over the soft rise of my clit.
“When I look into your eyes, I get lost and found at the same time.”
“All this and poetry.”
My hips tilt, and I don’t know how, but I feel him press his smile into me the moment before his tongue swipes through my wetness, stealing my breath.
“Mmm.” That noise, the low vibration, rocks me to my core.
“Oh God.”
“You’re so pink and so wet and so fucking delicious. I’m gonna lick you from ass to clit over and over until your body bleeds my name.”
“You’re—” too good at this because, at his next stroke, I almost levitate from the bed. “Oh, oh!”My hands ball in the sheets as though to hold on to the sensation or maybe to stop me from floating away. But there’s no need, not as he anchors his mouth over my clit, his tongue beginning to circle and flick. His mouth tastes and teases as his fingers a sublime thrust that makes my head fall back. I turn my head into the mattress as the sensations build and swell, the suffering a sweet, urgent kind of agony as he laps at me—there really is no other word for it—licking into me as though he is starved, and I am his only sustenance.
“Please, I—” My thighs tauten, and I reach down, threading my fingers into his hair, rewarded by another groan.
“Oh God! Oh God!” So goes the litany of my pleasure. I sound like I’m crying—sobbing—but Raif knows better. Because it is unbearable, and it is bliss as my fingers tighten and my hips begin to spasm and I ride his face with a wildness that can’t be contained. Because that would be akin to going against nature.
My mouth opens, and my eyes screw so tight I see lights. Stars. Fireworks. Pleasure spirals through me, the rush of sensation overwhelming as it pulses from the top of my scalp to the tips of my toes.
As I sink back into my skin, I realize I still have my hands in his hair as he kisses me through aftershocks of pleasure.
“Raif.” My throat is hoarse, my voice husky as I push up onto one elbow and tug. “Please, it’s too much.”
“Never. My wife is no quitter.”
“Oh God.” Why does that sound so good? Why does it make me want to glue my nether regions to his mouth?
His mouth. I wipe my thumb across his beautiful, talented mouth.
Five stars. I would heartily recommend.
But then his mouth hooks up as though pulled by an invisible string.
“What?” I ask, feeling myself frown.
“Be sure to sign the guestbook on your way out.”
“Did I… Oh my God, did I say that aloud?”
“Like you were reading a Yelp review.”
What the hell? I might as well go the whole (embarrassing) hog. “You know, it would be wrong to leave a review when I haven’t had the full experience.”
“We should remedy that.”
“Yes, let’s.”
His eyes darken as he moves up my body.
“An obstacle,” I hiss, my hands feeding between and finding his belt.
“You should definitely take them off.” His words sound a little hoarse and a lot hungry as his lips find my neck.
I nod. Sigh. And slide my hand between us when he lifts into a plank. Oh Lord. Muscles flex, bunch, and stretch as he holds himself there, kissing out a curse as my fingers brush his straining cock.
Belt. Catch. Zipper. He falls onto his back, the path of least resistance to nakedness. Between us, we work his pants down to his hips before Raif reaches for me, his hand cupping my nape, his lips a decadent slide down my throat. “I can hardly believe this is about to happen.”
“And not a wager or negotiation between us.”
“No.” He pulls back, his expression one I’ve never seen before. “No, nothing between us.” And his hand reaches for mine, wrapping around his cock.
Hot, it pulses against my palm, and the noise he makes as I close my fingers around it, part agony, part ecstasy, and so male.
“Lavender, tell me now if I need a condom.”
“You tell me,” I say, not able to look at his face. “Do I need one?”
“I’d never—”
I press my fingers over his lips. I trust him. As weird as that sounds, given our history, I do.
“Thank you. Fuck, princess.” His hand curls around mine as he sort of growls. “Other hand.”
I have questions but slot them away for later as I bring my knees under me, swapping to my left hand. I give him a couple of experimental strokes, and it’s awkward like this, but it’s a small price to pay for the visual. The way his head tips back, his eyes turning languid. The choppiness of his breath and the deep ripple of his swallow I want to press my teeth over. “So good, princess. So fucking good.”
The muscles in his thighs tauten. Abdominals, too. Buoyed by his praise and this sensory overload, I lean forward when he catches me by the shoulder.
“Get on your knees.” His voice all gravel and husk, but there’s a little desperation under all that command.
I want him so badly, but like this? And for our first time? But then he’s kissing me as I touch him firmer, faster, as he flexes up into my hold.
“Please, for me.” His fingers fold over mine and squeeze.
I roll over and find coming onto my knees feels entirely natural, though I still when I find his hands on my hips as he positions himself behind me. I want this so badly and tremble as his hand caresses the length of my spine.
“You look so fucking hot right now.”
I drop my head between my shoulder blades, not sure how that works when the satin glide of him through my slick flesh makes us both curse.
“Hurry, please.” I turn my head, desperate. The shape of him behind me, the look on his face. It’s like looking at the sun.
His skin against mine feels almost shocking as he positions himself, the press of his smooth crown eliciting a needy throb.
His breath brushes my skin, and his thumb hooks around my little finger as I glance down. My heart takes wing, fluttering against my ribs.
“I want this to last.” Sincerity. A slight adjustment, and I hold my breath as he pushes inside in one beautiful, endless moment, whispering one single word. “Forever.”
I can’t process his meaning, not right now, not as I feel him over me. Invading me. Overtaking me.
“Sweetheart.” His hips flex, doing something wonderful and torturous that makes my brain melt and something sinful and sweet slide through my insides. Before he pulls back, and with one long drive, he fills me to his hilt. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
“Because you’re so big.”
He gives a pained-sounding chuckle that makes me glance back at him.
“Urgh.” No one says stuff like that in real life. Do they? “Yuck it up. I bet that never gets old.”
“Hush,” he whispers, all sinful smile and sexy, hooded eyes.
The penises I’ve known are few. More like singular. Definitely singular. But it never felt like this. Like one wrong move, and I might turn into a shish-ka-Lavender.
And I love it, love the sensation of being full. Being fucked like this as I surrender myself to his slow, deep thrusts and eyeball-rolling jabs. I give in to his hand, twirling my ponytail as he wraps it in his fist. There is a tight pull on my scalp, and I hear the sound of his harsh breaths and hungered words.
“Goddamn, Lavender. I want to fuck you everywhere—be inside you everywhere and all at once.”
I make a noise—just a breath, really. I don’t think he’s talking about room locations.
“Open up for me.” His hand slips to the small of my back. “Drop your back and move with me.”
My body seems to know what he’s asking and holy hell. The sound I make is pure animal. My fingers twist in the bedding—I never knew it could be like this. I used to think no one really made these kinds of noises, not unless there was a cameraman about.
“You’re mine, Lavender.” He falls forward, his teeth pressing my shoulder. Two fingers turn my face to meet his. Our kiss is slow, wet, and a little desperate as Raif swallows the tiny pleading sounds of my delightful misery. “Mine to love and fuck.”
My insides pulse in time to my thoughts. More.Lie to me. More. Love me.
I screw my eyes tight. I know it’s not real. I know I’m supposed to be on my guard, but I’ve never met anyone like him. I just want to do this forever. Annoying him. Loving him?
He says something I don’t understand—speaks rasping words in a language I don’t know.
“Tell me. Tell me what you said.”
“I hurt from wanting you.” He pauses. “My wife.”
Such poetry as, with each flex of his hips, he owns me and steals a little more of my heart. He bends my body and my mind until I don’t know where I end and he begins.
And then, there! I cry out, throwing back my head. “Oh God. Oh, Raif!”
“So deep.”
The collision, the blunt feel of him drives me higher, my orgasm teetering. I want to watch, want to see the thick slide of him, kiss him, take his cock in my mouth.
Everywhere and all at once. God, I get it.
“Oh, oh! I’m—
“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart. Let go.”
He moves through my climax with a deep undulation of his hips, pleasure spiraling and spiraling, my insides pulsing, tears falling as my muscles shake, and I mutter unintelligible words.
I fall forward on my arms, and Raif follows me, kissing my face and my neck, groaning as I pulse around him.
“Oh my God!” I sound so happy. Is that what sex is supposed to feel like? Heat and passion and need. Relief. Releases. And joy. So much fucking joy!
“Yeah. Who knew, huh?”
I don’t even care that I said that.
“Well done, princess.”
I huff out a chuckle that doesn’t last as his hand comes to cradle my neck, the other hauling me up from the waist.
“What—”
Still inside me, my back to his front, our kiss is wet and messy.
“Give me one more,” he whispers. It doesn’t sound like a request as I find myself moaning around his fingers. Fingers that taste like me.
“One more. Such a good girl for me.” His hand cups my breast, the other sinking lower, his fingers swiping a small circle around my clit. I jolt—shudder—the strings of my climax lingering, reviving, inviting another.
Our bodies sweaty and slick, my mind sinks into pure pleasure, purr bliss, as his compliments objectify and venerate at the same time.
“My wife. My infuriating, maddening, hot as fuck wife.”
It’s still poetry as skin slaps and bodies bounce, my orgasm gathering like a tsunami inside.
“I’m going to come inside my wife,” he grunts. “Fill her tight pussy until she’s dripping.”
I’m done for, clenching around his dirty words and coming to their delicious punctuation with each flex of his hips.
I’m a dirty talk whore—I love it.
And as Raif’s teeth finds my shoulder, I realize so does he.