22. Sutton #2
“I wanted to get them a few new toys. They were kind of mad that we left them alone.” He points to the corner of the room.
“A few? That’s more than a few.” There’s at least five or six toys piled on the ground in the corner. A couple of balls, Ernie’s favorite, a couple of mice, Bert’s favorite, and a couple of others I can’t identify from here.
He glances up at me, the bashful expression back on his face.
This man.
Another piece of the wall around my heart cracks. I blink back tears. Not only does he take care of me, but he takes care of my cats. Without thinking, I lean down and kiss him.
He lets out a shocked squeak and then tugs me gently into him as he moves to sit on the floor. I nestle into his lap, and he wraps his arms around me.
“Thank you for being so sweet to me, to my cats.”
“Always.” He nuzzles into my neck, and my eyes flutter closed.
This is perfect.
He’s perfect.
Him doing this, buying my cats toys, a house, caring about them, is so fucking sexy. I want him, and not just in bed, although I do want that. My goodness. I wiggle in his lap, letting out a whimper as he grows hard under me.
“Feel what you do to me, wife,” he says as I grind down against his hardness.
I tip my head so he has more access. “I need you, Bash. So badly. I want to change the rules of our agreement. I want you to fuck me.”
He pauses. “You do?”
“Yeah. That is, if you didn’t change your mind.”
“I didn’t, and I want you too.” He thrusts his hips against me, and I moan.
“Good. Now I need you to touch me.” My voice is breathy, and I hardly recognize it.
He doesn’t answer, simply stands up still holding me—how, I don’t know, but I’m not asking questions—and I hook my arms around his neck. He makes his way quickly into his bedroom, where he pushes the door closed with his foot before setting me gently on my feet.
“Hi.” He reaches down and cups my cheek with one of his hands, the other one coming to my hip.
“Hey you,” I whisper, fisting the front of his shirt.
His tongue darts out, and he licks his bottom lip. It’s all I can do to contain my groan as I track the movement. He smirks, and my face heats at being caught.
“What?”
He leans closer to me. “I’m going to kiss you, wife, and then I’m going to slowly undress you and make you come at least twice before I sink inside your pussy and make you come on my cock. Are you good with that?”
“Yes.” I nod vigorously. “Yes, to all of it.”
He wastes no time in bridging the gap between us and kissing me. We’ve kissed before, but there’s something different about this time. It starts off slow and sensual and then becomes urgent as he slips his hand under my shirt.
“Off,” he says as he pulls it over my head.
I reach behind me and unfasten my bra, letting it fall to the ground next to me before pushing down my skirt and underwear.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.” I tug at the hem of his shirt.
He quickly tugs it over his head, and I ogle his muscular tattooed chest, that is, until he pushes his shorts and boxers down and his thick, hard cock bobs out.
“Is that?” I stare at his piercing.
“A Jacob’s ladder,” he says, stroking himself.
“Holy shit.” I reach for him, wanting to touch and explore his piercing. I’ve read about them in books, but I’ve never experienced one firsthand. I squeeze my thighs together. I bet it’ll feel amazing.
I run my fingers along the five barbells, a shudder racking through him, the silver chain he wears bouncing with every movement. Fuck, that’s hot.
“Stop,” he husks, and I pull my hand away. “If you keep touching me, this is going to be over quick.”
Before I can respond, he drops to his knees in front of me.
“You’re beautiful. You’re glowing.” He looks up at me reverently, running his hands over my calves and up my hips before leaning forward and feathering his lips against my barely there belly.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach at his words, his actions, at the fact that I have him on his knees in front of me, looking at me like he’s going to destroy me for all other men.
I slide my fingers through his hair.
“What are you doing down there?”
“Enjoying the view.” He runs his tongue through my center, letting out the hottest sound ever, a mix between a whimper and a groan.
“So good.” His eyes flutter open, expression heated. “Lie on the bed. I’m starving.”
“Bash …”
“Bed. Now.” He gets to his feet, and I do as he asks, lying down on the bed. He pauses, gazing at me. “Do you not want me to make you come with my tongue?”
I swallow, suddenly self-conscious when I never have been around him.
“I want you to. I know some guys don’t—”
He cuts me off with a searing kiss. “If I didn’t make myself abundantly clear, I want to taste you, love.”
Goosebumps form over my body at his words. “Yes, please.” I widen my legs, putting my arms behind my head like a pillow so I can watch him.
He kisses my cheek before kneeling at the foot of the bed, then he moves me so my legs are hanging off it. He winks before diving between them. I groan when his mouth makes contact with my pussy.
Holy shit.
I clutch the blankets, needing something to anchor me, unable to look away.
Have I died and gone to orgasm heaven? Because it sure feels like it.