Chapter 18
Avery Hunter’s Reporter Notebook: Logistics are important.
“Keep the panties on.”
Holy mother forking shirtballs. My new husband was a dirty talker. And he wanted me to sit on his face.
My underwear was already wet from his Viking Warren attitude in the woods, but damn if that face-sitting command didn’t get them wetter.
“What if I smother you? Maybe I should have you sign a waiver,” I challenged.
Warren didn’t answer. He simply grabbed me around the waist and lifted me onto the bed, straddling his chest and facing the wall. I looked over my shoulder at him. “You want me to suck your dick while I sit on your face? A little sixty-nine action?”
He frowned. “I do not. This is about you. Turn around. Sit on my face, wife.”
I shivered every time he said wife, but I dutifully turned to straddle his chest, facing him. Even though I watched plenty of face-sitting videos, I never saw how they got into the position - only the money shots. I looked around and tried to imagine the logistics of how this would work.
Warren chuckled, and I felt the vibrations at my core. “Lift up on your knees and hold still.”
I lifted and watched as he slid down the bed to maneuver his mouth underneath my core. He locked eyes with me as he moved the lacy scrap of underwear to the side with his thumb, then slid his elegant finger inside me. I nearly came on the spot.
“Holy shit!” I breathed.
“You like that.”
I nodded.
He wrapped one arm around my leg and grasped my waist, lowering me closer to his face, where his tongue lapped at my clit, sending electricity shooting through my body.
I nearly bucked right off of him until he growled and pulled me tighter.
I know I said I wanted to sit on his face, but now I was worried I’d kill the man.
“Stop overthinking this.” Warren looked up at me. “You will not smother me. Now, if you are going to sit on my face, sit on my damn face so I can make you come like a good husband.”
“Damn, Warren.”
“You like it when I talk dirty to you,” he said, swiping a finger through my arousal and showing it to me before sticking it in his mouth and sucking it clean.
“Delicious. Now. Sit. On. My. Face.” He grabbed my ass cheeks and practically smothered himself, swirling his tongue between my clit and my vagina.
It didn’t take long before the beginnings of an orgasm built at the base of my spine and began swirling through my body. “Warren, I’m almost there… holy shit.”
He lapped at my core like a man starved.
The faint breaths of air through his nose tickled my clit.
I grabbed hold of my breasts and teased the nipples while I rocked against his face.
It wasn’t long before a wave of pleasure swept over me.
I leaned my head back to cry out his name and clutch the bedspread behind me, arching into his mouth and taking whatever he was willing to give me.
I saw stars in my vision and took a deep breath to ride out the orgasm, thinking Warren would finish his ministrations and want me to get off of him.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. The man only paused for a second before he dove in again.
“Warren? That was it. I came. You don’t have to keep going,” I said.
I watched the flat of his tongue lap up my center as he locked eyes on me and grumbled something that sounded a lot like “no.” I raised an eyebrow as he sped up, licking and sucking my already sensitive flesh, whipping me up into another orgasmic frenzy.
Within seconds, the man took me to the height of another release that caused my legs to shake and me to lose all rational thoughts.
When I came down, I rolled off of him, panting.
He sat up with a shit-eating grin. His chin was slick with my arousal. His cock strained his yoga pants. I reached for his waistband and he caught my hand in his.
“No,” Warren said.
I tried to sit up. He pushed me back to the pillows.
“Also, no,” Warren said.
“That’s a lot of nos coming out of you. Mr. Bossy,” I said.
“You rest. I will take care of you.” He motioned me to scooch back to the pillows, and I did.
Who was this man I married?
I watched him enter the bathroom, run the water, and return with a warm washcloth. He gently wiped me down before slowly sliding my underwear back into place. No man had ever brought me to orgasm, much less twice, then made sure I was taken care of after. My vision blurred a little.
I cleared my throat. “We aren’t finished. I haven’t done anything for you yet.”
He paused and glanced up at me. “You have done something for me. You sat on my face. You allowed me to give you an intimate fantasy, plus you allowed me to pleasure you. I enjoyed that tremendously. And now, we rest, okay?”
I blinked a few times as he went back to the bathroom. When he returned, he got into the bed, pulled the covers over us, and spooned into my back with his arm slung around my waist.
I didn’t know how to process what just happened. It was an afternoon of firsts. First orgasm. First multiple orgasms. First face-sitting. And the first time I wanted a man to be in my life for more than a few months.
And it scared the ever-loving shit out of me.