32. London #2
I shattered with a shout of ecstasy that was muffled by his kiss.
He released my mouth as I shuddered and clenched around his cock and buried his face against my breasts to soften the sound of his own climax as he jerked beneath me.
The pulsing throb of him only heightened the aftershocks of my orgasm, and I clung to him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, our skin slightly damp from exertion as we shuddered and shivered and gasped against each other.
As we recovered in contented silence, Murray nudged my breasts with his nose and then began peppering little kisses over them. Before long, he was sucking and laving at my nipples again, making me restless in his arms.
“Murray?”
He looked up at me. “We’re not done yet, a ghràidh.”
A ghràidh.
It was Gaelic for “my love.”
My inner muscles squeezed around him tightly in response. Oh yes, we were definitely not done. I was insatiable for him.
“What do you want next?” Murray demanded quietly.
An image flashed through my mind, making me squirm.
His hands flexed on my back, like he’d felt my reaction around his cock. “Tell me.”
“Will … will you …” I reached up to stroke his beard. “I’ve always wondered what this would feel like against my inner thighs.”
Murray’s expression gleamed. “Oh, have you now?”
“I have.”
“No need to wonder anymore.”
I almost let out a squeal of delight as I found myself on my back. Giggling, I watched as Murray stood. “Just let me deal with this condom.”
Lifting my head, I watched Murray stroll into the bathroom, and I bit my lip against a thirsty moan. His ass was like one of those sculptures … rounded with muscle and flexing as he walked.
I wanted his ass in my hands as he thrust inside me.
A soft laugh escaped my lips as I arched and stretched across his bed, at once satisfied and still raring to go.
Relief and joy I could never have anticipated mingled with all my other emotions.
Because after Nick, I thought this part of me might be broken.
That the bastard had stolen my sexuality from me.
That I’d spend the rest of my life having sex with myself because I was too afraid to trust a man in or out of bed.
But then I didn’t know I was going to meet someone as special as Murray.
When he returned, my husband crawled over me, and I couldn’t help the giddy smile I gave him that probably revealed way too much of my feelings.
But his warm, affectionate expression told me he liked whatever he saw in mine.
I stroked my fingers through his beard, and he turned his cheek to press a kiss to my palm only to follow it with a kiss to my wrist and down my arm.
I sighed, relaxing back into the bed as my senses delighted in the feel of his mouth, his soft beard tickling my skin as his lips took a leisurely course down my body, like it was a map.
He spent so much time sucking and laving and licking at my nipples, they were so sensitive and swollen, eventually I had to beg him to move on.
But it was good to know he was a breast man.
I made a mental note to wear some low-cut tops and dresses during the summer months just to torment him.
My wicked grin disappeared into a moan as his mouth finally reached the apex of my thighs.
I widened my legs to let him lie between them, hooking them over his shoulders as he pressed tormenting kisses to my inner thighs. “You have freckles in the most interesting places,” he murmured.
“Pity I don’t have any near my clit,” I teased, only a tiny bit impatient to get to the good stuff. I felt his laughter as much as I heard it.
But then Murray’s tongue pushed inside me, answering my impatience. His beard tickled my skin, and it was as stupendous as I’d imagined it would be.
“Oh!” I pushed up onto my elbows because I wanted to watch.
Murray gripped harder to my hips to stop me from moving away from his mouth.
Our gazes met and the sight of his face buried in my pussy set off a little mini orgasm and a rush of wet.
His nostrils flared as he lapped it up, and it was too much.
My elbows gave way as I fell back against the mattress, clamping a hand over my mouth to muffle myself as the man suckled on me like a champion clit sucker.
It was too much!
My heart raced harder than it ever had, my skin on fire, the tension building inside me like it was going to split me apart—
The climax hit me in an explosion of bliss! I shouted into my palm, gasping, flushed, as my inner muscles pulsed with an intensity that seemed to go on and on …
Murray’s groan was deep and lustful as he licked my orgasm up like it was the most incredible ice cream he’d ever had.
“Murray … I can’t …” I moaned, shaking my head against the mattress.
Apparently, I was wrong. I could.
As he suckled on the swollen bundle of nerves, this sharper, burning pleasure began to flood through me.
“Oh God …” I bit down on my lip. Fuck, I wanted to scream and yell his name and cry and scream some more.
It took all my control to stifle my noises.
I grabbed for a pillow, biting down on the fabric just as another climax shattered through me.
Then Murray braced over and stared down at me with desperate want as he tugged the pillow away from me. “Can you take me again?”
I nodded, slightly discombobulated. “Condom?”
“Already on while you were recovering.” His grin was smug but totally sexy.
My laughter died into a moan as he nudged, hot and hard between my legs. I reached for him as he pushed inside me. Despite how wet I was (and I was so wet, the sound of it filled the bedroom, making Murray groan with want), I was tight from my orgasms.
“Never felt so good,” Murray murmured, his jaw clenched with tension as he flexed slowly in and out.
“You can go faster if you want.” I slid my palms down his strong back, shifting ever so slightly beneath so I could reach his ass. My fingers gripped his cheeks and Murray let out a sexy, masculine grunt. And then he began to move a little faster, harder. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
My fingers dug into his ass cheeks, guiding him faster. “Don’t stop.”
The wet sound of sex should have been embarrassing, but it was the opposite. It seemed to make us hotter, needier. And for all my concern over not wanting dirty talk, I couldn’t help but gasp out, “I’ve never been this wet in my life.”
Something like fierce possession flashed across Murray’s face as his hand dipped between us and his fingers found my clit in rhythm with his thrusts.
As I flew over the edge, practically sobbing through another climax, Murray suddenly tensed, his teeth clenched together to stifle a hoarse shout as his hips shuddered almost violently.
I felt how hard he came by the overwhelming throb and pulse of his cock inside me.
Murray collapsed, his head buried in the pillow by mine as we both tried to catch our breaths. He was heavy on me, but I wrapped my arms around his back and took his weight because he felt so good. I felt so close to him. His cock pulsed inside me as my inner muscles continued to twitch.
Eventually, he started to become a little too heavy and as if he knew it, Murray pushed up onto his hands, bracing himself over me, watching me as he eased out. His features were relaxed, his cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
There was awe in his eyes as he confessed, “I think it’s safe to say that was the best sex of my life, wife.”
I understood.
Because … “I didn’t know it could be like that. Husband.”
His eyes flared at the word. “Me neither.” He kissed me. And it turned into a lovely languorous make-out session as we rolled onto our sides.
Finally, after a little while of just kissing and petting each other, we came up for air and Murray pressed a tender kiss to my nose. “I need to deal with the condom.”
“Let’s take a shower together,” I suggested instead, needing to clean up between my legs.
He smiled lovingly and in answer pulled me up off the bed with him.