Page 32 of The Spare

All I care about is coming.

‘I’m— Shit,’ I gasp out, and then I am, in fact, coming, my orgasm slamming into me like a tsunami, a wave of utter destruction that picks me up and has me spinning through the air as pleasure pumps through every vein in my body like hot treacle, rendering me weightless and boneless and totally fucking useless. Ben’s laps gentle as if he can read my mind, as if he knows I’m growing more sensitive. It’s a fair few seconds before the fog of ecstasy begins to clear, making way—instantly—for doubt and shame and self-consciousness to creep in.

Oh my God, I was so unhinged. How embarrassing. Ben must have been laughing at me down there, if he wasn’t completely horrified. He withdraws his fingers and kisses my pubic bone. I feel his absence like a slight, even if my body can’t take any more. I’m lying here like a total tool, and suddenly I feel so exposed and mortified and⁠—

Quick as a flash, he crawls up between my legs and covers all this bareness with his body, its weight as welcome as a security blanket, as he finds my mouth and kisses me. He tastes like me. The kiss is hot and hard, the kiss of a man who’s desperate, and, sure enough, the dick notched right where his mouth has been is every inch as hot and hard.

‘I’ve never tasted anything so fucking delicious in my life,’ he growls against my mouth. The declaration may be outrageous, but he accompanies it with a thrust that tells me he means it.

I need to give him something now, something in return, so he doesn’t think I’m selfish and greedy and a waste of time. Besides, I find I want to. I really, really want to. My clit is still super sensitive after that onslaught, but my actual insides feel achy and empty after his fingers. I need him to fill me up in a way I can’t quite explain.

‘I’m on birth control,’ I blurt out. It’s an inelegant way to approach the obvious next topic of conversation, but I’m in a hurry. And I really, really want him inside me. The only question, given I’m about to sleep with one of the biggest fuckboys in Europe, is whether he’s been tested, but I don’t know how to⁠—

‘Good,’ he barks out, pulling some mystery manoeuvre that flips us over so I’m lying on top of him, his hands trailing lazily over my back, my bottom. ‘Fuck knows, we don’t need any little heirs crawling around the place just yet. And I’m clean. Took myself off to a very dodgy clinic in Oxford between Christmas and New Year.’

I giggle, relief overcoming self-consciousness as I put my palms on his pecs and push up a little. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’ He gazes up at me. He is so fucking hot that I don’t even know what to do with myself. ‘I don’t mess around with this stuff. Besides, you’re about to make it worth my while. Get me inside you, woman.’

CHAPTER 15

Benedict

Beneath my hands, she freezes.

‘You don’t want to?’ I ask. Fuck. Maybe I misread the situation, but there’s no blood flow left in my brain. Her glossy brown hair hangs over her face, and I remove a hand from her arse so I can push it back, gratified to note that her eyes are still glazed as fuck after that epic orgasm I gave her.

Take that, Rollo, you useless fuck.

‘I do. I’m just not sure about… being on top.’

A lightbulb goes off in my blood-deprived brain. Got it. I’ve been assuming that missionary was too caveman for the first time and that what I’d like to do—flip her over and plough into her from behind—was too caveman for the complete opposite reason, so I figured her on top would be a good compromise for her. But she’s self-conscious. Makes total sense. This is Slinks we’re talking about. I may have loosened her up right now, but she’s not about to writhe around on my cock for me like some porn star when we’ve only just got naked together.

‘Got it,’ I say, reaching down and hooking a hand under one toned thigh. ‘Give me a sec—sit on me.’

She frowns but does as I say, and I push myself upright, bracing on one hand behind me. She’s watchful and so fucking beautiful I’m almost speechless. I can’t quite believe she allowed herself to let go like that, but it was a miracle. Turns out my very own little ice queen is hot as hell beneath that icy exterior. Fuck, is this worth the wait. All those years of flirting and observing and wondering idly how she’d taste, how she’d feel from the inside out…

Like nectar. Like heaven. That’s how.

I kiss her again as my poor, neglected dick thumps needily against her belly. ‘Now will you get on my cock?’

‘Yeah.’ She rests one hand on my shoulder for balance and raises herself up on her knees, wrapping long, slender fingers around my dick. Fuck, that feels good. My eyes dart all over her as she positions it at her entrance, her wetness and my precum providing ample slipperiness. I’ll eat my hat if she needs that lube she was worrying about.

I take in her face, still flushed, the plumpness of her lower lip as she bites down on it, my gaze meandering down past her perfect tits and flat stomach to the neat line of hair and the place where my dick is slowly disappearing inside her body. She’s wet, but she’s tight. I discovered that when I finger-fucked her, and now, as her inner walls clamp around my cock, I’m discovering it all over again. My wife’s cunt is definitely the sexual Garden of Eden.

As she impales herself carefully upon me, I kiss her again. Her breathy little moans of effort—and hopefully pleasure—aren’t doing my ability to hold myself together any favours. I’ve been hard since she kissed me, ready to blow since I tasted her, and am now hanging by a thread—although the prospect of fucking Slinky bare and then blowing inside this tight little channel is marvellously galvanising.

This is a pretty shit position for either of us getting maximum friction, but it’s good for intimacy, and I suspect that’s what she needs in this moment.

Besides, my hot little bride is naked and sitting on my cock a mere eight days after our wedding, which in my view is a massive win. I was worried it would take weeks, or even months, for her to come around. If she hadn’t erupted so spectacularly just now, if I couldn’t still taste the sweetness of her orgasm on my tongue, I’d be feeling seriously guilty that this really was a pity fuck on her part.

An hour ago, I was toasting the passing of my father. Now, my entire body is a live wire vibrating with need, an unexploded grenade thanks to this lovely creature and her magical pussy. I brace more firmly on my hand and kiss her again before murmuring, ‘Can you move?’

It turns out, she absolutely bloody can. It also turns out, Slinky is the perfect nickname for her as she slinks her soaking pussy experimentally up and down my cock like it’s a greased pole.

Jesus fuck.

The only thoughts I’m conscious of are ones where I feel extraordinarily satisfied—smug AF, if we’re being honest here—at the knowledge that she’s mine.