Chapter Ten #2
She laughed, the sound filling the space between them as she caught him staring at her mouth, as if there was wonder written on her face. As if he was desperate to be part of her joy.
Jerking her hips up, she grabbed the band of her trousers and began tugging them down. More laughter spilled from her mouth as she had to jiggle them over her wide hips—her curviest part.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Constantine lazily murmured, “I love how lush you’ve grown in certain areas, Aliyah.
” His devouring gaze moved to her breasts, and it lingered there, burning her skin, branding her.
“I dream about burying my face in them, and other inconvenient parts, until I find release. Would you let me do that too?”
“Anything’s on the menu, husband,” she said, licking her lower lip, the anticipation thick in her voice. “As long as you look at me like that.”
He thrust a hand through his hair, the motion not quite as graceful as usual.
Grinning, she pushed her pants down her thighs, her knees, feeling the fabric slide off her body. It pooled at her ankles, locking her legs. Still, she scooted down to the edge of the chaise longue and managed to spread her knees as far apart as the trousers locking her ankles would allow.
“Jesus, you’ve gotten really good at instructions, huh?” Constantine said, biting into his lower lip. His eyes shimmered with naked lust as he looked at her, as if she were some kind of goddess, and he was an acolyte come to offer his devotion.
“I see the reward in your eyes. Of course I will follow your instructions,” she said, her own desire coating her words.
His thumb notched down on her lower lip, then he dragged it down the column of her neck, down to where her jacket was buttoned. “Undo the jacket and sit back. Let me see what my feast looks like.”
She popped the single button on her jacket and pushed it back on her shoulders, the movement making her breasts shift subtly, her nipples pressing against the fabric of her bra. The bright red of her underwear stood out vividly against her golden-brown skin.
Constantine’s gaze dropped to the sight, and he muttered, “Fuck, look at you, yineka mou.”
Aliyah followed his eyes down her body, the weight of his desire pressing against her skin like a live flame she ventured too close to.
His breath became labored, his gaze stopping at the curve of her waist. The look on his face was enough to make her shiver.
She ran her palms over her thighs, needing some kind of stimulation, gliding back and forth on the chaise longue beneath her. At her center, she was already a buzz of sensation. “You do know this isn’t going to put a baby in my belly, right? Remember our biology lessons?”
Constantine smiled but said nothing, rough palms covering hers as he slowly pushed her hands away. His fingers moved up and down her thighs, making slow, deliberate progress toward her center with each upward sweep. The abrasiveness of his palms made the touch a hundred times more arousing.
She felt like she might burst out of her skin if he didn’t touch her core soon though.
“Aliyah,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. “I promised you,” he continued, his voice dark, “that I would make you scream while I did it. This baby will be conceived in pleasure, agapi,” Constantine whispered, his voice thick with some unspoken emotion.
Aliyah swallowed, the hidden thread of emotional ache still beneath the physical ache. “Whatever else happens later, right?” she said.
She didn’t need an answer though, because his fingers were already there, at the fold where her hip met her thigh. She looked down, watching his long, elegant fingers tap against the wet patch of her thong.
Her breath hitched as he pushed the fabric to the side, and his thumb notched down into her folds, finding her center and penetrating her in one swift, small thrust.
Aliyah closed her eyes, the better to take in his touch. His clever fingers danced over every inch of her, tracing, probing, pinching—and finally, finally circling her swollen clit.
But he didn’t stop there. He didn’t keep her waiting, because on her next breath, she felt his hot breath over her empty core, and then he dove in.
His breath became labored as he swept his gaze down her body, ending already at her breasts, every inch of her yearning for his touch, enough to make her shiver under it.
She ran her palms over her skin, needing some kind of stimulation, gliding back and forth on the chaise lounge, her center now a buzz.
“Constantine,” she murmured, voice thick with lust. “I might burst if you don’t touch me. ”
He smiled, his hands rough and steady as he slowly pushed hers away. His fingers moved up and down her thighs, making slow, deliberate progress toward her center with each upward sweep.
“I promised you,” he continued, his voice dark, “that I would make you scream.”
Then suddenly, his thumbs were there, pressing against the spot that made her stomach tighten. His fingers dipped lower, teasing, as he pushed the fabric aside. His touch was a shocking contrast to the fabric between them, a sensation that left her breathless.
Aliyah threw her head back, unable to stop the moan that escaped her lips. His touch—slow and deliberate—had her body singing. He didn’t disappoint. He didn’t keep her waiting.