chapter 39
Iselyn
Like yesterday, we work through the afternoon, and after five in the evening, we step out of the house.
The moment we’re outside, he says, “Let’s go to your treehouse,” heat unmistakable in his eyes. My insides melt instantly.
I nod. My feet feel heavy, as if I’m dragging them along the path toward the place where we spent such intensely close time yesterday.
Every second of that evening replays in my mind as we approach.
We don’t speak a single word on the way; the silence, as always, only thickens the tension.
A familiar ache presses insistently between my legs, demanding attention I can barely contain.
I climb inside first; he follows. I turn on the air-conditioning.
He closes the door behind him. There’s ample light inside, thanks to the glass windows covering two of the walls.
The window beside the bed is large enough for anyone outside to see straight in, which means we can’t do anything in daylight.
He sits beside me, neither too close nor too far.
The silence presses in, every shallow breath, every small movement reverberating like an erotic echo.
My mind is on fire, every nerve screaming, even the sound of his breathing makes my body ache.
My body has become hypersensitive, I can feel him through the air, his presence pressing against my arm and leg even though he’s at least a foot away.
Unable to bear the torture, I rise. He watches me with darkened eyes and a serious expression—the look he wears when he’s deeply aroused.
Knowing this does nothing to soothe my own rising heat.
“Will you read a book for me?” I ask.
He nods.
I turn toward the bookshelf and walk over. Lust clouds my thoughts, turning them hazy. My fingers tremble as I trail them over the spines of the books. This kind of desire is new to me, raw and consuming. There’s still an hour and a half before darkness begins to fall.
I pick up an old classic. But before I can turn around, his footsteps sound behind me. Goosebumps rise along my skin even before he reaches me.
He stops just behind me and gently takes the book from my hand.
“Not this one.”
He puts the book back in its place.
“Pick something that could heat up your little pussy,” he whispers in my ear.
“I don’t think I could handle any more of it,” I manage to get the words out.
He says nothing for a second, then slides his hand inside my shorts. My eyes fall shut instantly. When his fingers reach my clit, I moan breathily. Even a feather-light touch is overwhelming at this moment. He pushes aside my wet panty and slips a finger inside me, only to pull it out immediately.
“Fuck,” he grits, withdrawing his hand from my shorts.
He takes the old classic he just put back and pulls it out again.
“My dick will snap if it doesn’t get treated soon.”
We return to the bed and sit like we did yesterday—face to face, our backs against opposite walls, our legs touching. He looks toward the window.
“Why is there no curtain, and who the fuck made this huge window in a fucking treehouse?”
I chuckle at his frustration. “I asked Papa to make it big. I wanted it even bigger.”
His narrowed eyes bore into me. Then, with a resigned sigh, he opens the book in his hand and starts reading. After two pages, he looks up at me.
“I’m unable to concentrate, Angel. All I can think of is your dripping, hot cunt.”
A fresh gush of wetness soaks my panty.
He looks down again and continues reading. For the next hour, he keeps going. I hear only half of what he reads, the rest dissolves into the haze of lust flooding through me.
When the light begins to fade, he closes the book and places it on the mattress. There’s still enough daylight to force us to stay away from each other.
“Tell me, Angel, what are you thinking right at this moment,” he mutters.
“I… you… I mean, you doing something.” My cheeks start burning.
He smirks darkly. “Me doing what?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s play a game. I’ll give you two options, and you’ll have to choose one. Shall we start?”
I nod.
“What would you prefer, my tongue in your sweet cunt or my fingers?” he speaks hoarsely.
My thighs shake, my breath turning heavy. “Both.”
He chuckles. “Greedy little angel. You can only choose one.”
“Fingers.” I say, looking away.
“Next question. Choose between these. First option: I’ll suck your hard nipples whenever you want. Second option: I’ll massage around your pussy.”
Why is he being so difficult, and from which filthy corner of his mind are these things coming?
“First option,” I breathe.
The darkness grows thicker, and with it, the tension deepens. Anticipation ruins every coherent thought in my mind, boiling my blood, making my thighs numb.
“One last question, Angel,” he breathes. “What will you give my dick first, your mouth or your pussy?”
“My mouth.” Only a flicker of light remains. “Right now.”
He chuckles, the sound dark and dangerous in the darkness. “Not now. Right now, I need to quench my thirst.”
He grabs both of my ankles and pulls me forward toward him. The next second, he removes my shorts and panty, and his mouth comes down on my core. I moan, clapping a hand over my mouth.
He licks all through me, slow and thorough. I grab his hair and ride his face, my hips moving on instinct. I’m already about to come within ten seconds.
He pulls his mouth away just a little, and I whimper in protest. Then he slides two fingers inside me and pumps them in and out rapidly. My entire body starts shaking, and when he starts sucking on my clit, I come.
Hard. Really hard. Every time he makes me come, I think I’ve never come like this before.
As I come down from my violent orgasm, I touch his shoulders as he hovers over me. I push him to the side, he falls onto the bed beside me.
“Are you sure you can suck my dick in this darkness?”
“Just remove your pants and leave the rest to me,” I say with an authority and confidence I don’t know the source of.
He chuckles and does exactly as I say. I settle between his thighs. My hands slide over his thighs, then wrap around his thick, heavy dick. I move my hand up and down along its length. His harsh breathing fills the space between us.
I lower myself and take the head into my mouth. My tongue slides over the tip. He groans low. The way we have to keep our noises restrained only makes it more thrilling. I take more of his length into my mouth. Within a few inches, it fills me completely.
I move my mouth and hand together over his length. His thighs shiver around me, and I’m aroused all over again. I move a little faster, my jaw aching from working around his thickness.
He grabs my hair, sounds of pleasure vibrating from his throat, and then fills my mouth with his thick, hot liquid. I try to swallow as much as I can, but some of it still spills out, falling over his pulsing dick.
I pull away once he calms down. I lick the bitter wetness from my lips. His scent floods my senses.
He pulls me up along his body. I lie down on his chest. He holds my face between his palms and pulls my lips down onto his. Our mixed fluids smear between our mouths as we suck on each other’s lips. I push my tongue inside, he grazes it with his teeth.
I pull back, breathless. His hands slide to my neck, then down my back, until they land on my naked ass cheeks. He grips them in his palms and spreads them apart, the stretch reaching all the way to my entrance.
His fingers slide inward and downward, spreading my folds from close range. The cool air from the air conditioner brushes against my sensitive skin. I moan against his neck.
“I want to fuck you so badly,” he groans.
He pushes two fingers inside, one from each hand. It feels more stretched. I take deep breaths to steady my burning lungs, my head spinning. He adds another finger, stretching me further.
“We need to stretch this little cunt for my dick, don’t we, Angel?” he mutters.
I nod against his cheek.
I’m hugging his neck tighter when he increases the speed, his thumb brushing my clit. Soon enough, I’m coming again. I bury my face deep in his neck, holding him so tightly I might actually choke him.
He removes his fingers, stroking my ass with his hands instead. I stay with my face buried in his neck for several long minutes, inhaling the intoxicating scent of myrrh.
“How are you so good at it?” I mutter.
He chuckles. “Feeling blessed to have such a talented husband?”
“How are you able to do things so well while claiming to be a virgin?”
He laughs, his chest vibrating beneath me. I don’t know if it’s post-orgasmic bliss or something else, but I find even that insanely attractive.
“It makes very little difference whether I fuck fifty women or fuck a single woman fifty times in my head.”
I lift my head to look at him in the dim light. “It does. There’s a whole experience thing here.”
“Nah. Someone gave you the wrong information. All you need is knowledge of pussy anatomy and a good imagination. And I happen to be a genius at both.”
I laugh, but it dies halfway when I recall his previous point. “And who did you imagine fucking fifty times?”
“You, of course, Angel. Didn’t I tell you my dick has very high standards? Just because you can make this poor thing come with a touch of your pinky doesn’t mean anyone could.” He presses small kisses to my lips.
I giggle. “But it’s not like you’ve been thinking that way about me forever.”
“I started thinking about you that way after the New Year’s party at the Mikhailov palace—before your nineteenth birthday.”
I lean up a little more. “When you came with Zan to meet me?”
“Exactly when you scolded Zan for bringing me there.”
I chuckle. “Of course. I didn’t want to see you then.”
“And now?” he mutters, his smile fading.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I say, looking away.
He removes his hands from my ass and wrap me into a tight hug. “No. Not until you tell me.”
I roll my eyes, teasing him. “And here I thought I married a smart man.”
He chuckles, his hands moving slowly up and down my back. I bury my face in his neck again.