Chapter 34 Pula Monstru
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Pula Monstru
HENRY
Her mouth fell open, and I wondered if that was the wrong thing to say.
“You are unlike any man I’ve ever known, Henry Baxter,” she murmured.
“In a good way, I hope?”
She reached for my face, her thumb brushing my lips. “In the best possible way.” She leaned in, taking my mouth in a languid kiss. I wondered if she could taste herself on my tongue. I wondered if she liked the way she tasted. I doubted she would enjoy it even a fraction as much as I had.
My dick throbbed insistently.
“You have my permission,” she whispered.
Stomach fluttering, I pulled back from her lips. “I do?”
A wicked glint lit her eyes, and she smirked at me. “Let’s bone, Hubby.”
A strangled laugh ripped its way out of me. “You weren’t going to let that one go, were you?”
Her fingers slipped under the hem of my T-shirt. “I’m not letting this go, either. If we’re having a no-rules night, I want the full experience.”
I let her drag the T-shirt off my head, my brain a fuzzy mess and my heart thrumming too violently for me to do anything but comply. Her fingers trailed over my abs.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Could we use a more manly phrase, please? Handsome … Statuesque … Built like a Greek God,” I suggested in a strangled voice because her fingers were grazing over my nipples.
“You know, the first time I saw you I thought you had the body of a man who should be immortalised in marble.” My muscles rippled as she dragged her nails lightly down until they were at the waistband of my pants.
She tugged the elastic away, and my dick jerked wildly as she stripped that last piece of fabric from between us.
Gazing at my erection, her brows lifted and her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip.
Only sheer force of will prevented me from spontaneously orgasming at the sight.
“But those statues never get dicks right. They’re always so … small.” She ran one finger from my glistening crown down to the base, and I gritted my teeth, willing my body to behave. “This is the opposite of small.”
“You do realise that I’m painfully erect, right now?” I rasped. “It tends to be much larger when almost every blood cell in my body is trying to fit in there.”
Her giggle was the most perfect sound in the world. “I’ve seen you flaccid too … well, the outline of you in those naughty little swim trunks, anyway. Believe me when I say, Henry, you’re a shower and a grower.”
“Condom?” I barked, because if she kept running that finger over me, she wouldn’t be getting this full experience she was so eager for.
Oh, don’t kid yourself, Baxter. She’s not the only eager one here.
“IUD, remember?” She straddled my thighs, and I grasped her hips, desperate to drag her up and onto my cock, but I forced myself to ask the other important question.
“STIs?”
Her hands pressed into the bed on either side of my face, and she leaned closer, breath warm against my cheek, my erection trapped between our bodies. Blissful agony. “I got tested recently, and I haven’t been with anyone since. You?”
A surge of warmth flooded my stomach and chest, and I curled my fingers around the back of her neck, thumbing her jaw, tilting her head back to kiss and lick the soft skin of her throat.
“I haven’t been with anyone since my last test, either,” I mumbled against her pulse.
Her little moan as I sucked a red mark into her skin had a growl rumbling up inside me, and I sucked harder, wanting to leave a lasting reminder that I’d been there, that I’d touched her like this.
She turned me primitive and possessive and feral, in a way nothing and no one else had.
The thought of having her bare … I’d never done that, not in four years with Cadence. But to do it with her … to feel her, with nothing between us …
“I need you,” I grated, pressing her back, gripping the base of my dick and angling it for her. She raised up on her knees, positioning herself. My eyes rolled back in my head at the feel of the heat of her as she notched me against her entrance.
“You’re so big, Henry,” she hissed, and I gripped her round backside as she lowered herself onto me, inch by agonising inch. “Not too big that I can’t take you, but … I’m just going to need to …” She blew out a breath and changed her angle, and I bit the inside of my cheek.
“Lucky I’ve been training myself on giant dildos for years,” she mumbled, “Pula monstru!” She tightened around me, and in desperation, I began reciting the districts of Panam and their industries.
District One, luxuries … District Two … she feels incredible wrapped around me. This is not going to work!
My hand slid over the top of her thigh, pressing between her legs, finding her swollen clit with my thumb. She gasped, and I inched deeper into her.
“Yes! God yes, Henry!” She lifted herself up and sank down again, each movement getting her closer to taking all of me.
I swallowed, tasting blood from where I’d bitten my cheek to stave off my own pleasure.
She would come again on me, I refused to allow anything less.
I flicked at her clit, toyed with the little metal bar that pressed up against it.
Her arousal soaked my shaft, and her walls tightened around me.
“Take me deeper, Catnip,” I begged, finding a rhythm on her clit that had her mewling. And she did, her body meeting mine as she took all of me in that slick, tight pussy. She tossed her head to the side, flicking sweaty strands of hair from her face.
“Your cock is perfect … you’re fucking me just right, Henry.” Her voice was a breathy, staccato thing, and the sound of it was enough to trigger the start of my unravelling.
“I need you to come on me. Now.” I snatched at her hip, rocking her on me, circling her clit with as much control as I could manage when my vision was blurring, my balls were tightening, and heat was ready to explode into a tsunami of pleasure that God knew how I was holding at bay.
“Henry!” she cried, arching her back, stomach spasming, clit pulsing against my thumb. Her pussy squeezed me until I saw stars, and I groaned as my own release crested. I thrust deeper, pouring myself into her.
She collapsed, sweaty and sated against my chest. I clutched her tighter to me, burying my face in her hair.
She smelt like sex, sweaty and delicious.
Her heart thrummed against my ribs, and in a moment of post-orgasmic clarity, I realised that I would forever crave that feeling …
her heart, next to mine, both pumping hard because we made each other lose control.
I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted to hold her like this, naked, and wrapped up in me, forever.
But my erection was waning. And maybe she would want to clean up and …
I had no idea what I expected from her, now …
would she take herself to bed? Leave me in here to ponder the recklessness of what we’d just done?
I loosened my grip on her. She tightened hers, nuzzling her face against my chest. “You smell like … us.”
“We should clean up,” I suggested with a sigh. “I’m sure after that orgasm, I’ve left quite a mess inside you.”
She giggled, and said mess leaked out around my semi-flaccid penis. Propping herself up on her elbows, she grinned sleepily down at me. “Well. You made a mess of me … you should clean me up.”
Hope flared in my chest, that she wasn’t ready to abandon our night of no rules just yet. “I’ve never cleaned a woman after sex before, so I may make the mess worse. But I’m willing to try.”
She stroked her knuckles down the side of my face. “You’d also never fucked me before tonight, either, and you managed to smash that completely out of the playground. Multiple home runs—is that a thing?”
I flushed, her praise firing up the reward centre of my brain. “Let’s make it a thing.”
Carrying her to my ensuite, I ran the shower, checking the water was warm before stepping inside with her.
Positioning her under the spray, I stood back and just admired the sheer perfection of her form.
Swimming had kept her lean, lithe and strong, but she still had a feminine shape, in the curve of her breasts, the swell of her hips and thighs.
I’d seen her naked in many Tickle posts, had just had her naked and writhing on me, but there was something special, vulnerable … intimate, about showering with her.
She cracked open an eye, grinning lazily, her hair in wet, silky strands over her shoulders. “Soap me up, Hubby.”
I complied with pleasure.
Her body was squeaky clean, and my hands knew every inch of her skin, still tingled from the sensation of massaging bubbles over every curve of her.
Clad in a towel, she made herself right at home, rummaging through my underwear drawer and finding herself a pair of my boxer briefs.
I watched, entranced by the sight of her in my room.
And then, when she let the towel drop and bent at the waist to tug her chosen pair over her taut legs and backside, my cock stirred again.
I kept that information to myself as she strutted out of the bedroom with a wink back at me, covered to mid-thigh by one of my T-shirts.
“I’ll be back, Hubby. Just going to get something,” she said, ducking through the door. Her muffled admonishment of, “No, Abs, you can’t come in. Mummy and Daddy are having grown-up time,” had a smile bursting, unbidden onto my mouth.
It soon vanished as reality snuck back in. We’d just had sex. Consummated a marriage that, on paper, was real. It needed to remain real for at least two years, and what could happen in that time to people who were exploring new feelings?
It was a minefield of epic proportions, and she was a woman who was emotionally vulnerable tonight. That made me an arsehole for letting my control slip enough to allow it.
Where was she? It had been several minutes since she left. Seeking her out was out of the question. What if she wanted space, to have her own quiet freak out about what we’d just done?