37. Alexis #2
“Come on my face,” Gabriel rasps, the words buzzing straight through me. “Soak me, sunshine.”
He scrapes his teeth over my clit, and I explode into pure sensation.
My head drops back against the pillow, a hoarse, low cry spilling out of me as I arch and twist. He follows every movement, keeping his mouth locked on my pussy, and I work to keep my eyes open so I can watch him keep lapping at me, a look of pure hunger in his expression.
When he finally releases my legs and draws back, I realize I definitely gave him what he asked for.
The entire lower half of his face is wet, his chin glistening with my arousal.
There was a time I probably would’ve been embarrassed by that, but right now, I just feel possessive, slightly proud, and so turned on.
“You’re wet,” I point out, grinning.
“Thanks to you.” He chuckles, licking his lips before wiping at his chin. “God, that was fucking incredible. I love how hard you come for me.”
He sits up and moves back against the pillows, sitting next to me with his hard cock jutting up toward his stomach. Reaching over, he grips my waist and lifts me easily, guiding me up and over him until I’m straddling his lap.
“How was the chapter?” he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.
I laugh. “I didn’t finish it, obviously. Something got in the way.”
“Well, that won’t do.” He reaches for the book where it landed and thumbs back to find our place, then props it open against his chest. “I’ll read you the rest while you ride me. Get yourself off again on my cock, sunshine.”
Holy shit. When he puts it that way…
My heart thrums as I brace my hands on his chest and lift onto my knees, and he reaches between us to line himself up, holding the base steady as I lower onto him. He slides in, and even though I’m controlling the pace, the familiar stretch of him still sends all the breath rushing from my lungs.
“That’s my wife.” His eyes glint in the low light as he adjusts his grip on the book, his other hand splaying against my hip. I sink all the way down, taking every inch until our pelvises meet, and his gaze darts from the place where we’re connected back to my face. “Good girl.”
My skin tingles with awareness under his ravenous attention and praise, and I brace a hand on his chest, squeezing him as I rise up partway. He groans, then finds his place on the page.
“He thrusts into me, deep and consuming, and I feel like I’m floating away,” he reads in his deep voice. He rolls his hips up to meet me as he speaks, driving into me, and just like the words say, I feel like I leave my body for a second, every nerve lighting up at once.
He keeps reading, and now that I don’t have to focus on putting a sentence together, I can allow myself to get swept up more in the story, allowing the filthy scene to play out in my head alongside the equally filthy sight of my husband fucking me from below.
I can tell from the way his voice turns rougher and rougher that he’s getting lost in it too, the chemistry and attraction between us building into something white-hot.
“I didn’t think one person could make me feel this good. This man is going to break me. Ruin me for anyone else.” His words turn a bit choppy as I ride him harder, and the last sentence ends on a groan. He lowers the book just enough to find my eyes. “Is that how you feel about me?”
I don’t answer with words. He already knows what I’d say.
He might be the only man I’ve ever been with, but that’s because I don’t want anyone else.
The premise of me asking him for lessons was so that I wouldn’t be shy and inexperienced with my “next husband,” but I’m miles past being able to convince myself that’s what this is anymore.
Holding his gaze, I reach up to play with my nipples, letting him see the pleasure in my eyes as I rise up and then drop back down, rolling my hips in an undulating motion that has us both panting.
“Fuck,” he chokes out. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I find a new rhythm, bouncing up and down on him as I lose myself to the overwhelming sensations. He tries to keep reading, but he ends up repeating the same sentence three times as he keeps losing his place.
Finally, he tosses the book down on the mattress, both hands coming to my hips, all of his focus on me now. He grips me and helps me keep up the intense pace I’m setting, pulling me down to meet the drive of his cock, and every time we come together, the sound of it fills the room.
I shift my weight, finding an angle that hits just right—and when I find it, when the base of his shaft drags against that perfect spot, I gasp out loud.
I do it again, working myself on his cock exactly the way I want.
I use him just like he told me to, taking my pleasure without a shred of hesitation, because it feels too good to do anything else.
“That’s it, sunshine. Just like that.” His hands flex on my hips, his neck muscles straining. “Take what you need. Fuck, I love watching you like this.”
My head falls back, and I roll my hips faster, harder, keeping him deep and grinding against the spot that makes me see stars until the heat spreading through me crescendos into something I can’t hold off.
“Gabriel!”
My whole body goes rigid as the orgasm sweeps through me, every pulse of pleasure making me shudder and shake. I barely register him sitting up, his arm banding around my back before he flips me onto my back without ever breaking the connection between us.
“Christ, you’re perfect.” He fucks me at his own pace now, taking over where I left off, driving into me so hard that the headboard smacks against the wall.
I cling to him, his name spilling from my lips on a shaky moan with every thrust. His movements turn rougher, more focused, as he grunts against my ear, dragging his mouth over my throat and my jaw and my lips.
Then he buries himself deep and lets go, dropping his head to the crook of my neck as he fills me with his release.
“Yes. God, yes…” I whimper, my arms locked around his neck and my legs around his waist, holding him close.
He keeps moving, a few last thrusts that wring out the last bit of his cum, until he stills with a final press of his hips and lowers himself over me.
I can feel his cock still throbbing inside me as we both fight for breath.
After a moment, he gathers me close and rolls us again so that he’s on his back with me draped over his chest. He’s still buried inside me, softening now, but he makes no move to lift me off him. Instead, he brings a hand to the back of my head and draws me down into a languid, indulgent kiss.
When it breaks, I slump against him, my cheek resting on his upper chest. I can feel the thud of his heart, and I lie still and listen to it pound.
“Stay here. Just a little longer,” he says quietly, his hand stroking my hair.
I nod against his chest, swallowing past the tightness in my throat.
It’s an easy request to agree to. Because there’s nowhere else on earth I’d rather be than right here.