Page 27 of My Weakness

“River…” she exhales.

“Shh, you don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know. I want you to understand where I’m at in this relationship. You’re it for me, you’re my whole fucking world.” She just stares up at me, complete shock written across her face.

“Now, what do you want to do for dinner?”

***

I ended up cooking for us. It’s one of my first steps in getting her to fall for me, and something I’ve never done for anyone else. Cooking has always been private, something I don’t share with others. This is different, though. This time I’m cooking for my future wife.

“That was so good,” she moans from the barstool next to me.

“I know you love Italian food, which is pretty convenient.” I’d cooked us spaghetti carbonara, the original Italian recipe. My Nonna would find a way to bring herself back just to shoot me if I ever cooked it differently.

“I forget you have Italian heritage. What other hidden talents have you kept from me?” I spin my stool to face hers, my hands grip her slim hips and lift her onto the island counter.

“Let me show you,” I smirk as I push her sundress up her body, exposing her lacy thong to my eager gaze.

She shivers as my pointer finger runs along the lace edge. She’s soaked through the material, a beautiful wet spot glistening at me through the lace, enticing me to taste her.

“Lie back and let me taste you, baby. It appears I’m still hungry.” I push my fingers through the flimsy material and shred it, pulling it from her body in one move causing her to gasp.

“River,” she cries as my tongue spears into her.

I don’t build up to it, and I don’t ease her in, I fucking devour her. I’m addicted to the flavor of her; she’s the best damn thing I’ve ever tasted and I’ll gladly spend the rest of my life with my head buried between her thighs.

“I want you to give me two, pipsqueak. Two before I take you to our room and fuck you like you need.”

“Your room,” she whines.

I can’t help but laugh against her cunt; she’ll fight me at every turn, even when I’m bringing her pleasure, she still has to argue with me. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with my little firecracker. She certainly lives up to her fiery red hair.

“Ourroom, baby, it’s our room now. You’re mine.”

“No,” she whimpers as her clit trembles under my tongue.

“Yes.” I increase my pace, pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

She rolls her lips together, refusing to give me anything.

Not fucking likely.

I get her right to the edge of her orgasm, the walls of her cunt pulsing around my tongue, and then I pull back. I let it fade, let her come down from her near high and then work her back up again.

“You don’t come until you say it. Now fucking say it, pipsqueak.”

Three times.

I edge her three times, and she still refuses to say it. She will, though, she’s close to breaking. I can see it in the flush of her skin, see it in the sweat that’s beading over her body, see it in the tears that are tracked down her cheeks, and see it in the desperation of her gaze.

I add a finger this time, thrusting deep as she clenches around me, her body desperate to find the relief it needs, that relief that only I can bring her, and I will, all she’s got to do is say it.

“Come on, baby, say it and I’ll let you come.”

“Please,” she begs as her watery stare meets my own.

“You’re mine, pipsqueak. Tell me you’re finally mine and I’ll let you come so fucking hard you’ll still be feeling it next week.”

“River,” she moans.