Tess’s legs fold like my words were a hand on her neck forcing her to the ground. Her hands flutter hesitatingly, hovering over my chest and thigh before she ultimately decides she’s safer setting them down on either side of her legs. She gathers her hair in one hand and places it over her left shoulder, then slowly bends towards my navel.
I stop her before she gets anywhere near me.
“Other shoulder,” I grunt.
Startled by my gruff tone, she looks up. I repeat the same roughly ordered command, emphasizing it with a lift of my chin. “Put your hair over your other shoulder.”
With it gathered on the left side, it obscures her face when she leans forward, hiding her from me. My jaw is set, the muscles in my cheek twitching. I need to see her face, need to see her every microexpression when she puts her mouth on me.
Fuck, that reminds me of how she’d sucked my cock in the back of my Rolls. Eyes wide, tears slipping from the corners. Cheeks flushed, mascara running.
Beautiful.
I growl approvingly when she does as I ask and moves her hair over to her right shoulder. She flicks one last glance up at me before her lips close around my navel.
Her warm mouth on my skin shocks me. I suck in a sharp breath of surprise. Her eyes widen when the alcohol hits her tongue. My gasped inhale is followed by a hissed exhale when she darts her tongue into my navel and swirls it around, gathering the remaining liquid.
I hadn’t expected to be this sensitive.
My hand weaves into her hair, fingers wrapping possessively around the thick strands and staying there. It’s an act of dominance and one of encouragement at the same time.
Her hands come up to grip my thigh and rest on my chest. My head falls back as I groan. The pleasure is painful, verging on being agonizing. Her hand is so close to my thick cock that I have no doubt she can feel it throbbing violently against my thigh. My entire body shakes with need.
“Joder,” I groan.
This was a dangerous game to play.
Tess sucks the last of the liquid into her mouth and sits back into her hips. My hand falls from her hair and comes to rest lazily on the small of her back. But she’s not done, diving back in to lick the skin around my navel when she sees the excess wetness still remaining there.
When she sits back up and finally looks at me, her pupils are blown wide, the blue of her eyes snuffed out by smoky, lustful black.
The fierce expression on my face must have reality slamming back into her because her gaze shutters and she looks away, clearing her throat awkwardly.
“I was wrong. It tastes better in a glass.”
She wipes the back of her hand against her lips and starts to stand.
“Not so fast,” I command.
Then I grab her waist and pull her down onto the floor, rolling myself so that I’m on top of her, positioned between her now spread legs. It happens so quickly that I’m met with a pair of surprised, blinking eyes.
“I think I get an opinion,” I murmur roughly.
Then I yank the bottom of her blouse out of her skirt and shove it up over her breasts, revealing tight nipples straining against a black lace bra. My hands still clutch her waist, my thumbs nearly connecting in the middle of her stomach, and I run them unhurriedly up the expanse of her skin, reveling in being able to touch her like this.
Staring up at her, I bend my head and press my lips hotly against her lower belly. Her muscles tighten in response, goosebumps erupting across her skin before my eyes. Moving down, I press a kiss over her covered pussy.
She shivers, running her hands through my hair and grasping the thick strands tightly. I keep kissing every inch of her skin, moving from her lower belly up to her abdomen, to the area just beneath her covered breasts where I can feel the way her heart beats erratically for me.
“You taste so fucking good,” I purr, voice muffled against her skin.
She gasps in a breath, eyes closed, brow drawn down in rapture. “Focus,” she manages to rasp out.
Grabbing the forgotten liquor bottle, I pour a continuous stream into her navel and lick it up, tongue digging into her belly button and lapping up the liquid as if I was eating her out.
Tess thrashes beneath me, body writhing and arching up into my face, then away when the sensations get to be too much. It takes everything in me not to reach between her legs and plunge my fingers into her tight pussy.
Finally, I pull back and wipe my own mouth, looking down at my wife splayed out on the floor beneath me. Hair spread every which way, her clothes pushed up indecently, liquid glistening on her skin and covering the floor.
“I disagree,” I say hoarsely, licking my lips. “I think it tastes much better on your skin. I might have to exclusively drink it this way from now on.”
Eyes so innocent they seem overwhelmed by how turned on she is meet mine and undo me. Leaning back over her, I bury my face in the crook of her neck and lick at the mark I left there a few days ago. I’d been like some kind of animal with his mate, desperate to leave a mark that showed all other lurking predators she was mine.
Clearly I let my passion run away from me because the bruise is as vivid today as it was when I first bit her five days ago. I lap at it gently, soothingly, groaning as I do so.
“You’re so vocal.” She whispers it tremulously, voice uneven.
“I make my pleasure known,” I say, every word shaking with the force of my desire. “You have no idea the noises I’ll make for you, amor. Panting for you. Moaning your name. Gasping and cursing as I come in your tight pussy.” I murmur against the shell of her ear, “I’m not going to hold anything back.”
“Oh, God,” she moans back, her legs tightening around my waist.
“I can prove it to you right now.” Tess yelps when I bite her earlobe. “All you need to do is ask,” I coax.
Her hands come up to my nape, one tangling in my hair and pulling my face closer against her as I kiss her open throat, her collarbone, her shoulder.
“Do it,” she whispers, like she’s ashamed.
I growl angrily, moving lower until I’m between her breasts. I grope one in each hand, pushing them up and burrowing my face between those lush peaks.
So fucking close.
“Not until you ask.”
Come on, ask me to fuck you.
“Just do it.”
“No.”
She makes a frustrated sound, one caught between desire and refusal to give in to what her body wants. To what we’re both dying for.
“I won’t touch you until you own up to it, until you give up on this silly game of pretending like you don’t want it. When I finally fuck you, I won’t have any part of you hiding from me.”
She hesitates, eyes closed as she vacillates between two decisions.
I hold my breath.
Her lips part… and then shut.
Eventually, I feel her shake her head.
It’s the hardest thing in the fucking world to rip myself away from the warmth of her body, from the wide open opportunity of fucking her even if she won’t say the words, but I do. With an angry grunt, I pull back, abruptly cutting off all contact and standing.
Tess doesn’t understand what just happened, that much is clear by the adorably frazzled, confused expression on her face as she places her weight into her elbows. She pulls her blouse down with shaking fingers, comprehension dawning as she looks up at me. It’s clear she didn’t think I was being serious when I said I wouldn’t touch her.
“You’re only punishing yourself by being so goddamned stubborn,” I grit out, beyond sexually frustrated.
Letting loose a muttered curse, I turn and stomp out. I’m at the door when I remember. “We’re going to a gala at the home of one of my business associates tomorrow. It’ll be a good opportunity for us to show the world what a happy couple we are,” I add acerbically. “Black tie. I’ll send a dress.”
Then I walk out, slamming the door behind me.
