He keeps his gaze on mine for a few moments while I stroke him. I know he’s thinking about how he wants to fuck me. The anticipation I always feel while I watch him think works its way through my veins. Sex is the only time I hand over control fully to King, and this is why. I love how the power fuels him. How it brings out his darker, dominant side that makes the kinds of demands on my body that I feel for days.
“I want you sitting on my face,” he says, his voice husky with desire. Then, without waiting for my response, he lifts me over his shoulder and carries me to our bedroom.
He strips out of the rest of his clothes, not removing his eyes from me. A minute later, he’s lying on the bed, pulling me to sit over his face with my knees either side of him.
I grip the headboard while he grips my ass and tongues me.
“Oh God,” I moan, riding his face. I fucking love how much my husband loves eating me out.
King could do this for hours.
I’m convinced of it.
He loves using his tongue, his lips, his teeth, and his fingers to fuck me.
And often, like he does now, he brings my fingers in on the job too.
He guides my fingers inside me and orders, “Fuck yourself but stop right before you’re about to come and let me finish the job.”
I look down at him and do as he says, keeping my eyes on his as he watches me finger myself.
I grip the headboard tighter as my orgasm teases. “I’m about to come,” I say as I rock my hips above his face.
Pulling me back to his face, he fucks me with his tongue and fingers, growling deeply, sending the very best kind of vibrations through me.
“Oh God, oh…fuck, King,” I moan as I come.
I’ve barely orgasmed when he grips my hips and moves me off his face so he can sit. A moment later, I’m on my hands and knees on the bed and he’s slamming his dick in me.
“Fuck,” he roars, thrusting in hard and fast, wiping all coherent thought from my mind.
We’re all skin slapping together, fingers bruising, hearts joining as we both chase the release we need with each other.
My first orgasm stretches out into multiple orgasms as King fucks me. He doesn’t come quickly, and by the time he finally does, I’m completely lost to the pleasure.
When he pulls out of me, I collapse onto the mattress, spent. Exhausted.
He lies next to me and pulls me into his arms. I need to go to the bathroom to clean up, but first I need this moment with him.
We lie quietly for a beat and then I say, “I never want to do this with anyone else.”
His arm tightens around me possessively. “Trust me, I won’t fucking allow that. Ever.”
I look up at him. “I wasn’t referring to sex, King. I meant I never want to do life with anyone else.”
He keeps his hold tight on me as he looks at me. “I won’t allow that either.”
I smile, tightening my arm over him too. Then, exhaling a long breath, I say, “Raising kids is hard work. I’m not sure I can make it.”
He frowns. “Make what?”
“All the years we still have left to go. Also, Christmas is hard work. And so is summer. I’ve run out of energy for it all.”
He contemplates that for a few seconds. “I’ve got you covered.”
“How? I mean, seriously, King, you’re always so busy with?—”
He presses a finger to my lips and silences me. “I’m home for a week. You can put your feet up.”
