Chapter 41
I hesitated over whether to undress or stay clothed. I’ve never been with a virgin before, so in a way, this is a first for me too.
Then I came to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be a good idea, on our first day as a married couple, to start by pretending to be something I’m not.
She’s my wife now, and I’m not going to act like we’re living in the Victorian era. Jazmina has to get to know my body and learn to show herself to me as well.
Then I remember the day she slipped in the bathroom and the excuse she came up with just to be touched. She is a virgin, yes, but sexy as hell. I’m certain it won’t take long before she has me on my knees in the bedroom.
I’m almost thirty-seven years old and I’ve fucked a lot in my life, but I’ve never had this kind of reaction stirred in me by anyone. The brush of our bodies sets me on fire—an open flame, primal lust.
Madness, desire, hunger—I can call it whatever I want, but the truth is I don’t know how to define what Jazmina has become to me.
I went from reluctant guardian to worshipper of an uncontrollable girl.
From protector to a male starving for his female.
Her reactions when she’s in my arms are a chapter all their own. The moans of pleasure she gives me are tattooed in my mind. I can hear them when I lie alone in bed, aching to bury myself in her untouched body.
I’m rational by nature, despite my hot temper, but around Jazmina, I let the primitive part of me surface, the one I usually keep under control. There’s something about her, like a call I can’t ignore.
We’re opposites and complements.
Always, like a constant prayer, every time I saw her, a voice screamed insistently:
Mine.
I resisted. I didn’t want to possess or be possessed.
An empty life, but without pain.
She didn’t care in the slightest about my indifference. She only grew more beautiful and tempting by the day.
It would be easy to say I couldn’t resist, but the truth is I didn’t want to resist, because wanting her is worth any risk.
The bathroom door opens, but she doesn’t come to me right away.
I left the bedroom dim, only the bedside lamp on, because I sense she’ll be shy at first.
She stands a few steps away, watching me. It’s the first time she’s seen me bare-chested, and her face is a mix of curiosity and desire.
God, she’s transparent. Jazmina can’t hide her arousal.
Neither can I, because my eyes devour every inch of exposed skin beneath the short, white, silk nightgown.
I spread my legs and extend my hand to her.
She walks slowly, seeming unsure, but still swaying her hips.
Sexy. Fiery. Delicious.
Watching her is almost foreplay. Without even touching her yet, my cock reacts to the sight of the innocent goddess.
When she stops in front of me, I notice that at the height of her breasts the fabric is sheer, letting me see her hardened nipples.
I grab her by the waist and almost manage to close my hands all the way around it. That part of her body always drives me insane, a contrast to her wide hips.
At my first touch, her breathing turns loud.
She holds my face and takes the initiative to kiss me, but not on the mouth.
In a slow torture, I feel her lips on my forehead, my eyes, my jaw, until she finally gives herself over to a deep kiss—teeth, tongues, lust.
I pull her toward me, making her straddle me, facing me. When her chest presses against mine, I could swear I hear her heart pounding.
Our mouths won’t part. Any separation, any distance, is painful. Our lips are starving, desperate for contact.
I’m dying of hunger for her and need to taste her whole body. Nothing will be neglected, but for now, I content myself with her hot mouth.
She lowers herself, settling onto my cock, and I slide my hand from her waist to her ass.
I slip one strap of the nightgown down and bite her skin.
Jazmina lets out a long moan, and all the restraint I was working so hard to maintain is lost.
“I want you naked,” I demand, already off script, any plans to take it slow forgotten.
I expected I’d have to undress her, but I nearly die when I see her pull the nightgown over her head.
I lie back on the bed and pull her down to sit on top of me, gripping both breasts. My hands cup the full mounds, thumbs playing with the stiff peaks.
She grabs my wrists, maybe torn between asking me to stop and begging for more. In the end, arousal wins and my virgin surrenders—arms relaxing, giving herself over for me to do whatever I want.
Her skin is hot, almost feverish, and she sways, straddling my legs.
I switch our positions, but before fitting myself between her smooth thighs, I strip off my boxer briefs.
Her hungry stare flatters me. I can also see hesitation there, and I don’t want her to be afraid.
I settle back between her legs. My large body forces her thighs wider.
I trace them with my fingertips.
She shivers, murmuring my name.
I lower myself, kissing the outline of her beautiful face, her collarbone, and when I move toward her breasts, I see her throat bob as she swallows hard.
Her undisguised desire flips a switch in me. My cock throbs with need.
I lick one breast, my tongue circling the pink peak. I open my mouth and suck, nursing, savoring her, and she writhes.
One of my hands slides between our bodies and touches her secret paradise—the place where I want to be.
When my thumb brushes her clit, she gasps, mouth opening as if she can’t draw enough air into her lungs.
“I want to go in here. Make my way into this virgin pussy.”
“I’m scared.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“Not on purpose, I know, but we’re so different,” she says, blushing. “You’re so big.”
I lift myself, take her hand, and kiss her palm. Then I place it on my cock. The idea was to let her explore, to learn—but when I feel her warm skin on my flesh, I have to close my eyes for a second to regain control.
When I look at her again, her pupils are dilated, her tongue sliding over her lower lip, probably unconsciously.
I guide her hand, making her stroke me up and down my thick erection. She doesn’t pull away, watching closely, attentive to my reactions.
“Does it feel good?” she asks.
“See how hard I am? That’s because I want you like crazy.”
I hover over her without touching her body. Jazmina is right: our physical difference is enormous. The triangle between her thighs looks impossibly delicate to take me, but I’ll teach her not to fear me.
Knowing she’s paying attention to everything, my hand moves decisively to the shelter of curls.
I brush our lips together to calm her and don’t move my fingers at first, just cup her pussy, letting her get used to the contact. Her legs fall open, wide.
I deepen the kiss, and she pulls me to her, clutching my back, anxious, as if afraid I might stop.
While I devour her mouth, my fingers work endlessly in her soaked cunt.
Her folds drip with arousal, honey spilling.
Her hard clit is so sensitive that she arches when I touch it. Her hips roll in silent circles, tempting me, inviting me to follow.
Her body opens, and my finger slips halfway inside her. Jazmina is hot and tight, and I ache to feel her squeezing my thickness with her narrow walls.
“Rodrick . . .” She clamps down on my finger, convulsing.
Needing more of her inside me, I suck her breasts, biting and licking, feasting on my wife’s body.
She spreads her thighs completely, giving me unrestricted access, and my resolve to go slow disappears entirely.
I’m starving for her taste, and lifting her legs onto my shoulders, I eat her virgin pussy with my mouth wide open.
I lick, suck, thrust my tongue, thirsty for her honey.
I trap her clit between my teeth, and my goddess cries out: “I . . . Ohhhhh . . .”
“Come in your husband’s mouth, Jazmina.”
She grabs my hair. Wanton. Filthy. Conquered.
I suck her sex, nibbling the rigid crest without restraint now. My finger fucks her gently but steadily, stretching her for me.
She screams in ecstasy, her restless body reacting to her awakening as a woman. She fills my mouth with her desire, feeding me pleasure.
I tease her hardened nipples, letting her lose herself a little more in her orgasm until the spasms finally subside.
My cock is like heavy wood between my thighs, pre-cum leaking from the tip.
“I need you. Touch me. Make me yours.”
She doesn’t have to ask again. I’m dizzy with pent-up lust.
I lay myself over her, not sparing her my weight.
“Mine,” I murmur, letting my cock brush between her slick lips.
She drenches my length with her fluids, showing me she’s more than ready.
Jazmina doesn’t take the pill. It goes against the customs of the women of Rheadur. I don’t usually fuck without protection, both for safety and because I’ve always avoided children, but I don’t want to use a condom—even knowing I won’t be able to come inside her.
An animalistic urge drives me to take her without any barrier. I want my thick veins stretching her body, for her to feel me carving my way inside her every time I thrust deep.
“Are you ready for me?” I know she is, but I need her to be certain of what’s about to happen.
“Take me, Rodrick.”
I lace our hands together, pinning hers to the bed beneath mine, just like her body.
I focus on not hurting her as I push my hips forward. The thick head of my cock fits into her tight entrance, invading her, and she tenses.
“Shhh . . . Stay with me the whole time, my princess. Trust me to make you a woman.”
I kiss her mouth, and little by little, she relaxes. The way she submits, so unlike her combative temperament, drives me insane.
Our lips move in harmony with cock and cunt, synced in the rhythm of our desire.
I force my way in, thrusting halfway, and she squirms, nervous.
I bite her swollen nipples, and when she melts, surrendering to pleasure, I push deeper into her sex.
She cries out, startled, but one leg hooks around my waist, her heel pulling me closer.
I deliriously savor the feeling of her stretching to accommodate me.
“Look at me,” I ask. “Don’t look away, Jazmina.” I can tell my commanding tone excites her because her pussy tightens.
I push a little more, eyes fixed on her beautiful face as I move inside her heat.
She moans, distressed, but doesn’t ask me to stop.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes, but I want to be your woman. I trust you.”
I touch her clit and thrust again, testing. “You were born to be mine, Jazmina. We fit perfectly.” I’m rambling, not even sure what I’m saying, caught in her web, intoxicated by my wife’s scent and heat.
Each time I enter, she seems more receptive. I’m sweating, tense, trying to make it as painless as possible, but I’ll have a stroke if I don’t fuck her.
“Kiss me,” she asks, as if she senses I can’t wait any longer.
Our mouths devour each other again, and I sink fully into her.
She lets out a sharp cry, wanton, female, and starts rocking softly. I should tell her to wait, but I can’t resist thrusting deep. My balls ache with need.
Her pussy clamps around me, her body lifting to meet mine in sweet torture.
My hips rock against her pelvis, my large frame dominating her delicate silhouette beneath me.
I deepen the penetration, my mouth touching everything within reach—neck, jaw, earlobe, breasts.
It’s not choreographed—it’s liberated desire, wild in its yearning.
For her. With her.
My princess. Wife. My delicious woman.
Her moans grow louder, and I slow the pace at which I fuck her. I’m insane with lust, but I want her to come on my cock.
Minutes pass and our bodies keep seeking each other, insatiable. I no longer know whose moans are whose.
“I think . . . I . . .” Even in delirium, she still feels shy.
“Come for me, Jazmina. Surrender.”
The contractions intensify, squeezing and releasing me until, with one final cry, she comes, soaking me.
I fight to keep a shred of lucidity so I don’t spill inside her. There’s nothing I want more, but I can’t risk it.
Pleasure spreads through every cell of my body. I want to come buried inside my wife, see her sex leaking my seed, but not even for her—for the only woman who’s ever touched my soul—will I risk bringing a child into the world.
My head is fucked. Reason and emotion at war, and I fuck her harder, needing to prove that even denying myself this pleasure, we belong to each other.
“More,” she begs.
My thrusts grow long, almost pulling out completely each time.
I look down between us, and seeing the way our bodies fit is my trigger.
She screams and this time warns me she’s going to come, embarrassment replaced by a desperate need to surrender to pleasure.
With my mind clouded by conflicting thoughts, I pull out and stroke my cock. She’s lost in her own orgasm, while I watch every reaction closely.
I touch her wet sex, spreading the swollen lips from our fucking, and the urge to push back inside her causes physical pain.
Jazmina opens her eyes, and the connection, briefly broken by the separation of our bodies, snaps back with force; I come on her thighs.
I spread my semen over her skin, marking her, claiming her as mine.
I lie down and pull her into my arms. Our breathing hasn’t steadied yet, nor have our hearts, beating wildly out of sync.
We don’t speak. Words are unnecessary.
I knew that the day we finally fucked would be different from anything I’d ever experienced, but nothing prepared me for the feeling of being home.
I never imagined that once inside Jazmina, I’d never want to leave.