23. The Gift of Trust #2
Yes. I want to be naked too, my body accessible to his talented hands.
It only takes a second to untie the bow holding the dress together and unhook the full skirt from inside so I can shrug it off like a robe.
The silky green fabric pools on the floor around me, leaving me in the bustier and thong.
My heavy breasts heave with excitement as Mick twists the cap off of a water bottle and pours it into a glass before bringing it to me.
"Open your mouth," he instructs me. "Keep your hands at your side."
I don't hesitate to part my lips and tip my head back.
He places the pill on my tongue and then presses the glass rim to my lips and tilts it to give me enough water to swallow down the pill. I do it, excitement shimmering through me while my ovaries start dancing to a heavy bass beat.
Mick goes to his nightstand and puts the still half full glass of water down onto it before using the discreet biometric lock to open the bottom drawer.
The drawer where he keeps my toys and the lube.
My black leather cuffs dangle from his fingers when he straightens. Something inside me settles. That part of me that worries, plans and protects goes silent.
The rest of the room blurs into nothingness. There is only Mick and me.
His strong masculine body crosses the room in sinuous strides, his erection long and thick, one hand holding the cuffs and the other curled into a fist at his side. He moves behind me and drops down on his haunches.
I don't turn to look. I don't have to. I know what's about to happen and I put my hands together at the center of my back in preparation.
"Such a good wife," he purrs, fastening a leather cuff around my right wrist. Pressing his fingertip between my wrist and the leather, he tests it for fit, like he does every single time. "Alright?"
"Yes." My voice is soft and dreamy.
A single fingertip traces a path down my spine from the base of my neck. "So beautiful."
He affixes the other cuff to my left wrist and I relax my arms, letting the chain between them hold my hands in place.
A barely-there kiss lands on my shoulder before his hands slide around to my front to cup my breasts. "I love these baps."
My nipples are already so engorged they ache with stinging pleasure as his thumbs brush over them.
"I love your touch."
"Good," he breathes into my ear. "Because I'm never going to stop touching you."
He squeezes my breasts and lightly pinches my nipples, pulling on them and exerting the extra pressure I like since I finished breastfeeding the twins.
I moan and let my head drop back against his chest. I don't know why I thought I would take the sleeping pill and then we would go to bed. This is so much better.
Mick plays with my breasts until I'm whining and canting my hips.
"You said I could suck you." He actually said he wanted me to be a good girl and do it.
"After," he growls, sliding his hand down over my curved tummy and into my panties.
He doesn't hesitate, his middle finger sliding between my already slick folds all the way into my opening. The heel of his hand rubs against my clitoris while he fingers me and I'm on the edge of climax in only seconds.
I scramble to grab his erection with my bound hands. He lets me, groaning when I jack him with the short, jerky movements necessitated by our position and my cuffed wrists.
Rocking my hips, I chase the cataclysm of pleasure my body knows it can find with his.
He slides a second finger inside me, thrusting deep, fast and hard. Over and over.
Starbursts explode behind the eyelids I didn't realize I'd closed as my muscles contract in sexual ecstasy.
Mick keeps touching me, driving the pleasure higher, not letting me come down until I'm sobbing with the need to have him inside me. "Michael! Please!"
He pulls his hand away and I mewl.
The sound doesn't embarrass me. Nothing embarrasses me when I'm like this with my husband.
He stands and comes around so his now leaking cock is right in front of my face.
I instantly lean forward, opening my mouth wide and taking him in as deep as I can. His earthy taste explodes on my tongue.
So good.
I suck and lave on his thick erection.
A litany of praise falls from his lips. He starts to thrust his hips and I swallow when his head hits the back of my throat.
"Kara!" he shouts as I take him deeper.
And deeper.
He grabs my head and pushes even deeper. "Such a good wife. So beautiful! My Kara. Mine."
The words end on a shout as hot, salty cum shoots down my throat.
I suckle him and swallow as he pulls out, and then inhale deeply as soon as my airway is clear. I can still taste him on my tongue. A little bitter, but Mick eats a lot of fruit and vegetables because I like to swallow and he likes it when I do it without gagging on the strong taste of him.
MICK
I’ve been watching Kara sleep for the last 30 minutes. She fell asleep after her second orgasm. I was still inside her and she just dozed off.
Her faith in me is a miracle.
That I can feel the love I feel for her is one too.
The lust I feel? Not so much. It is inevitable. Her body is absolute perfection to me. Those big baps with their gorgeous pink nipples. Her wide hips and soft body. Thighs that cushion me when I fuck her. An ass that makes me salivate.
And a beautiful heart that makes my own beat.
I touch her now, my hands reverent on her skin, touching every centimeter of skin. Her face, her neck, her shoulders, her juicy tits. A thrill of arousal surges through me as her nipples bead into ripe red raspberries as my fingertips skim over them.
Mapping the body I know better than my own, I welcome the ache of arousal deep in my loins.
I arrange her limbs, so her arms rest at her sides and her thighs are spread wide, knees bent, putting her folds still slick and swollen from our lovemaking on display.
For long minutes, I keep my touch light, like I usually do when I'm trying not to wake her, but as she sleeps on, her breathing even while her pussy glistens with added moisture from the stimulation.
She moves and shifts onto her side. I maneuver her back into place and my cock throbs with atavistic desire when she is once again unaware and laid out just as I want her for my pleasure.
She gave me this priceless gift.
Her trust and her body. Mine to do with as I please.
The monster inside who has no conscience without Kara, the one who only submits to my rules of integrity because they serve him, wants to fall on her like a ravening beast. Grope her and fuck her and claim her in ways that prove how elementally she is mine.
But I do have Kara. Asleep, or awake, she is right here, my beautiful, generous wife who will never know harm or pain from my hand that she hasn't asked for.
Sometimes she likes her nipples twisted and pulled until the pain morphs into pleasure, but that's not what will happen tonight.
No, while she is unconscious and helpless before me, I will pleasure her. I will pleasure myself with her. when she wakes, she'll feel the results of a night of loving. Because I do love her with everything in my black heart.
The first climax I give her in her sleep is perfection.
That word again. But what other one can I use when it comes to my perfect wife?
My fingers are inside her and I feel not only the contractions of her swollen vaginal walls, but the gush of cum that soaks my hand.
The second one takes longer, because I'm careful not to take her over, waiting to see if she'll wake. She moves restlessly, canting her hips, her brow puckered in a frown. But her eyes remain closed, her face slack with sleep.
I'm suckling on her clit in start and stop rhythm that drives my wife wild when she's awake when she cries out my name in the same pleading tone. I lift my head, but she's still asleep.
Dreaming.
About me.
Unable to hold back any longer, I surge up over her body and plunge inside the sopping channel that grips me like a fist. I ride her hard, shaking her baps, telling her how much I love her, how perfect she is for me.
And her eyes open. Not all the way, just a slit, but she's there, not quite coherent, but aware.
"Come for me," I order her as my own cum bursts out of me into the heated depths of my wife.
Her cry is hoarse as she comes, calling my name.
"Thass so good," she slurs. “Love you, Michael.”
“I love you with every beat of my once dead heart, Kara.” I lean down and kiss her softly, gentling her until she's asleep again before I continue to fuck her with my still erect cock.
Her body is flushed with arousal and her pussy is clenching tight around my hardon when she wakes again.
She's more alert this time, her hazel eyes dark with love and need. "Sssooo mush." She's still slurring, in a state of semiconsciousness.
Not too much. So much.
I give her more, claiming her in every way I do when she's awake, except one. Anal sex is something we both love, but it is not an activity we will ever indulge in when she cannot tell me if I'm fucking her too hard.
I'm exhausted and more replete than I have ever been, the urges for violence and cold calculations completely silent inside me, when I carry her into the bathroom and bathe my wife.
She wakes for short periods, but then slides back into slumber as I do what I need to so she won't be too sore to walk tomorrow. After I dry her and treat her intimate flesh with a cream that will help with the swelling and soreness inside her, I sit her on the toilet and wake her up enough to pee.
Then I carry my beloved wife to our bed and wrap my body around hers before letting myself fall asleep.
At peace in a way I didn't know my sociopathic soul could be.