Chapter 59 Good Boys Get Rewarded
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Good Boys Get Rewarded
IRINA
As soon as we reached the bottom of the stairs, I pressed Henry up against the wall, my mouth desperately seeking his, hands scratching down his torso.
“What’s this for?” he asked, words muffled by my frantic kiss. He groaned when I palmed his cock through his trousers.
“That was the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever done,” I mumbled, nibbling on his bottom lip. His hands slid down, gripping my backside, kneading me.
“Punching Atlas?”
I moaned. “Fuck, yes, that, but mostly the ‘you fucked with me, and you found out’. That was so sexy, Hubby.”
Henry chuckled against my lips, hands working their way up under my dress. I shivered with arousal as his warm fingers trailed up my spine, lifting the dress with them.
“Are you sure you feel well enough for this, Catnip?” Henry asked as my dress bunched just under my breasts. “Morning sickness all gone?”
“I feel so good,” I purred. “But I know how you can make me feel even better.” I ran my tongue over the seam of his lips, squeezing his cock through his pants. He made a low, eager sound and took my mouth, hungrily demanding entry that I was all too happy to give.
When he tugged my dress higher, I lifted my arms, relinquishing his mouth for just long enough to get my dress off. My bra was the matter of one flick of his deft fingers, and I let it drop to the floor too.
“Are your breasts tender?” he asked in a rumbly voice, thumbs stroking my ribs just below them.
“Yes …” I moaned, then choked on a giggle when he immediately pulled back, concern furrowing his brow. “No! You silly, overprotective husband, they’re tender in a sexy way.”
I gripped his shirt and tugged him back to me. “They’re aching for your touch.”
His eyes darkened, hand sliding up, cupping me. “That’s fortuitous, because I’ve been aching to touch them.”
I gasped when his finger brushed the tightening peak of one nipple.
“I could touch you like this all day, Catnip,” he whispered, ducking his head to close his lips around it. I practically levitated off the floor. He growled around me, tongue swirling.
“They’re so much fuller already!” I marvelled, as he scooped the other breast into his palm, thumbing the dusky pink point. “Tick in the pro column for pregnancy—hot tits!”
“Hotter,” Henry argued roughly, eyes bright behind his glasses. “They were always hot, but God … they’re perfect!” his tongue traced damp lines over them. “Why do you think I’ve been so desperate to play with them?”
He met my eyes and sucked one nipple into his mouth. I choked back a gasp, desire pooling in my belly, soaking my panties. He toyed with my other breast, his free hand digging into my hip.
“Too much clothing in the way!” I moaned, earning myself a chortle that vibrated through my nipple and sent shocks of anticipation echoing between my legs.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and slid them down my legs and off, tossing them across the kitchen where they landed on the kettle, knocking over my little mug of teaspoons.
“I meant yours,” I complained, but that turned to a whimper when his thumb brushed my piercing, pressing the metal against my clit.
“So hot,” he growled against my breast. “And so wet for me, Catnip.”
“Haven’t you read in all that research you’ve been doing?” I panted, fingers tangling in his curls as he took the other nipple between his teeth. “Pregnant women are horny as fuck.”
He responded to that by circling my clit with a teasingly slow finger, pulling a frantic, wordless plea from me.
“Apparently my wife gets horny as fuck when I swear and get violent.” He nibbled up my chest and along my collarbone, bracing himself against the wall as he slipped a finger lower, dipping inside my pussy.
“That too,” I moaned. “Don’t stop.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he rumbled, sinking a second finger into me.
His thumb never stopped its perfect rhythm against my clit; circling, then pressing, then flicking, just the way I liked it.
Up and up I soared, and when he kissed his way back down and sucked my nipple into his mouth again, I shattered against him, raggedly crying out my climax.
He worked me through it until I was a shuddering, panting mess, barely holding myself up.
“Such a good boy,” I sighed. His palm, pressed into the wall beside my face, clenched into a fist, and his cock, pressed insistently against my hip through his jeans.
“Catnip, unless you want me to come in my pants … you need to not call me that.”
“But you are my good boy. And good boys get rewarded. Take me to the lounge.”
“Why?” he asked, fingers leaving damp circles on my thigh from my arousal. “Do you need a nap?”
I giggled, shuffling closer, his erection nudging against me. “No, Hubby. It’s been too long since I bounced on your boner.”
“Well … that is a reward,” he rasped, wasting no time in scooping me up and striding across the room. When I was straddling his lap, I unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them and his boxer briefs down his legs with my toes. His cock jerked as I lifted his shirt over his head.
“No clothes. No secrets. Nothing between us anymore,” I told him, giving his cock one long stroke before I notched it against my entrance.
“I love you,” I whispered, wrapping my fingers around his neck.
“I love you too, Catnip.” He kissed me deeply, tongue dancing with mine.
I started to move, letting my slick pussy slide down on him, inch by inch.
I tangled my fingers in his curls. He broke away from my mouth, jaw tight, gripping my waist and lifting me, tugging me down, using my body to find a rhythm we both craved.
He knew just what angle to take to hit all the right spots inside me.
“Thank fuck you started a Tickle account, Ri,” he mumbled as waves of pleasure began to overtake me once more. “I could let go of everything I’ve gotten from that app tomorrow, except you.”
“Even your billions of dollars?” I bit my lip to hold my orgasm off just a little longer.
“I’d give up every cent if it meant I could keep you, could love you forever.”
“There you go again, one-upping me!”
I lost control with a cry, my pussy clenching around him as he pumped harder into me, then groaned as he found his own release. I collapsed against his chest, sweaty and sated.
“If that’s what it takes to prove that you’re the most important thing in my life, then consider yourself one-upped,” he mumbled against my damp skin, stroking my hair as I basked in the afterglow of making love to my husband.