32. Pippa #2
He runs soap across my body, then rinses, pressing his lips to my shoulder as he does. I reciprocate, washing him, feeling him, gripping him. When he grows hard again, I look at him and smirk.
“Pippa.”
I lower to my knees and take him into my mouth.
“Fuck,” he growls.
When his fingers grip my hair, not too tight, but just enough to feel the way he’s unraveling, I smile around his shaft. He cups my cheeks in his palms. “Wife,” he groans. “If you don’t stop now, I’m going to lose all control and fuck your throat like I own it.”
His words make my insides feel like a volcano of lava ready to erupt. I want him to own me. To take pleasure from me. I want to imprint a part of myself onto him. I won’t ask for his bite on Solstice, but I will ask for this. For him to take every part of me and remember it forever.
I release him from my mouth just long enough to say, “Do it.”
He hesitates for a moment, studying my face as I stare up at him with sincerity, silently begging him to destroy me. His hold on my cheeks tightens. “Hold on to my legs, open those pretty lips, and breathe through your nose, wife.”
I barely have time to register his instructions before he’s slamming all the way to the back of my throat.
“Pinch me if you want me to stop,” he grits out.
I won’t be doing that. Instead, I move one hand to cup his balls. When he hits the back of my throat, I gag, and he immediately pulls out.
“No,” I mumble, shaking my head and stretching my mouth wide.
My perfect husband listens, taking what I’m offering. His thrusts turn ruthless. All I can do is hold on as tears stream down my face along with the water.
Shemaiah always treats me like something fragile—everyone does—and I love that tender care he shows.
But I don’t want to just be the dying sick girl to him, and I don’t want just his tender side.
I want the raw, intense need of the monster.
Right now, he isn’t my thoughtful friend or my careful lover. He’s a man obsessed, and I love it.
I need it.
I increase my hold on his balls, and with a squeeze and a suck, he swears and slams all the way to the back of my throat.
I swallow around his length, trying to take in every drop, but he just keeps spilling into me until his release overflows out the side of my mouth.
As if he’s coming out of a trance, he suddenly sinks to his knees in front of me, still cupping my face.
His expression is filled with worry and care and something like awe. “Fuck, Pippa. Fuck… fuck. I’m sor—”
I don’t let him get out the rest of the word before I’m kissing him. “Don’t you dare apologize for that,” I whisper against his lips.
We kiss until the water turns cold, then laugh, trying to get all the soap off without freezing.
As soon as he turns off the water, Shemaiah grabs a towel and wraps it around me, rubbing over my body.
He doesn’t dry himself until he’s satisfied I’m adequately warm.
I love the way he takes care of me just as much as I love the way he just dominated me.
As if he knows what I’m thinking, his eyes darken with that savage intensity, but rather than act on it, he steps back.
I hold the towel close to my chest and watch as he gets dressed.
“I’ll get us something to eat,” he says after donning clothes.
“Alright.” I move toward my suitcase to pick out an outfit for the day. “You aren’t allowed to get dressed.” He grins, then grabs the towel from me and smacks me lightly on the backside with it. “I want you naked while you wait for me.”
My cheeks and chest warm at the implication. He kisses my forehead, then leaves to get breakfast.
He isn’t gone long before he returns with a tray full of fruit, porridge, sausage, pastries and juice.
“I thought I told you to keep your clothes off.” He sets the tray on the small table near the window, then turns to face me. His gaze drops disapprovingly to the robe I’m wearing.
“I can’t just walk around naked.” I cinch the tie at my waist.
“You can.” He crosses to me and tugs on the belt. “Are you at least naked underneath, Mrs. Roan?”
“You gave me an order.”
“And you listened?” He unknots the robe, and it falls open, revealing my naked body. “Ah, such a good wife.” He licks his lips, laughs, and pulls me toward the breakfast tray. “Be good again for me and eat something. We need to keep up our strength.”
I sit down, eyeing the tray filled with food. He smirks as he kneels in front of me, spreading the robe and pushing open my legs.
“W-what are you doing?” I ask. “I thought we were going to eat.”
“Oh, I’m going to do more than eat.” His tongue scrapes against one fang. “I’m going to feast.”
Before I can protest more, he’s kissing between my legs, dragging his lips over my clit, tracing his tongue over my lips, nicking my thigh with his fangs. My breath comes in heavy pants as I squeeze the armrests.
He stops and looks up at me. “Be a good girl and eat, or I’ll stop.”
“I can’t eat while you’re…”
He scoops some porridge onto his fingers and shoves them into my mouth. “Suck.”
I whimper as he puts pressure on my tongue, swallowing the sweet taste down.
He does it again before returning his attention to the area between my legs.
I suck off every drop as he laps at my center, flat tongue scraping over my clit again and again.
His fingers drag down my chest to tease my nipple, and I cry out. “Y-yes! O-oh!”
Pleasure crests into something euphoric, and just as the wave is receding, he pierces my skin, taking one long draw of blood that sends me right over the edge again. “Maiah!”
I’m still shaking as he kisses his way up my body to seize my mouth. “You taste so good, wife.”
He picks me up and repositions me on his lap.
He holds a spoonful of porridge to my lips, and I’m too content and exhausted to protest as he feeds me.
I match him bite for bite, a spoon to his mouth and a berry to his lips for every one to mine.
Another intimate experience that feels like so much more than friendship or sexual desire.
Hope swells inside me. I try to temper the buoyancy of my floating heart, but selfish and needy, I don’t have the will to return to more solid ground. Not while I’m in Shemaiah’s arms.