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I nuzzle at the inside of one thigh, brushing her soft skin with my lips and tusks. She tastes sweet, like the oil, but there's a hint of salt that coats her skin that reminds me that she's wet from other reasons as well. I rub my face against her leg, fascinated with how soft she is. "When a man tastes his bride, he puts his mouth on her, like I did with your knuckles. Do you remember?"
She makes a soft whimpering sound and shifts her legs. "I do."
"If I do something you don't like, tell me, yes? But my goal is to get you to chase that feeling again. That it's going to build up in your belly and—"
"Lower," she blurts.
I pause.
"It's lower," she tells me, and I can practically feel her embarrassment. Her hand steals down between her thighs, and she pats the mound so tantalizingly close to my mouth. "When it builds, it's here."
I lean in and kiss the hand charmingly hiding her from my gaze. Her fingers twitch, and she caresses my face before withdrawing. "It's going to build here, then," I correct, and press another kiss, this time to her mound. "And it's going to feel good when you burst again. Just let it happen, but if you get scared or if something doesn't feel right, you tell me, yes? I'm right here with you, and there's nothing wrong with taking it slower if we need to."
"I'm fine," Iolanthe promises. Her hand lifts, and she hesitates, then reaches out and brushes my hair back from my forehead, then skims along my cheek. As if she…likes touching me. As if she can't resist. My heart aches in my chest.
The luckiest. That's who I am.
"I'm going to taste you now," I tell her, and turn my face to press a kiss against her hand. "Any time you want me to stop, just say so, or tug on my hair if you don't have the words. All right? If you don't like it, we won't continue." I flick my tongue against her palm, loving the little surprised gasp she makes. "But I think you'll like it."
Iolanthe nods, and I can feel her body tense underneath me. That's the last thing I want, so I turn back to pressing kisses against her thighs, stroking her skin with one hand as I tug the other leg over my shoulder. When she no longer looks as if she's about to bolt, I move in and press a kiss to that damp mound of hers.
She sucks in a breath.
"It's just my mouth," I remind her, kissing again. "You squirmed all over my hand and I made you feel good. My mouth will, too. There's nothing here I haven't seen or touched already. And if you get wet, sloppy wet, that's even better. I want that, Iolanthe."
The breath shudders out of her, and I can sense she's trying to relax. Her legs twitch, and I rub a hand over one thigh framing my ear. Her hands are back in her dress, clutching it into fists, but that's all right. As long as she stays with me, mentally, and doesn't panic, she can tear that dress into shreds for all I care.
I kiss her mound again…and then dip my tongue deeper, brushing against her clit.
Iolanthe gasps, her hands spasming.
"It's just a kiss," I murmur. "Just my mouth. I'm going to make you feel good with it. You know that, right?"
"Y-yes."
So I “kiss” her again, repeating the action. She trembles slightly, but her thighs part just a little more, and I'm filled with triumph. My brave, brave lady wants this. I press deeper, dragging my tongue over her clit, and her body trembles. "You taste so sweet."
"I-it's the oil."
Startled, I lift my head and look up at her. "What?"
"The oil," she repeats, dazed. "The oil tastes sweet."
I chuckle. "You think this pretty cunt of yours can't taste sweeter than that?" I reach over one thigh and use my fingers to spread the pink folds open for my hungry mouth and then give her an obscenely bold lick. "Delicious."
Iolanthe makes a whimpering sound. My cock is agonizingly hard, but I love this. I love getting this response from her. I love how this is all new and yet somehow, she's not afraid. She's experiencing it all with me, willing to spread her thighs and let me touch and taste her as I please. Such a good, sweet woman—and she'll be an even sweeter wife. Of that, I have no doubts.
I lick her again, and I can taste a hint of the oil, but more than that, I can taste Iolanthe. The musky arousal that coats her flesh. I'm not just saying things to placate her—the taste of her on my tongue is mouthwatering, better than any dessert. I lick her again, taking my time and dragging my tongue over every bit of that exposed pink flesh, until she's squirming underneath me. "Such a pretty, tasty cunt," I murmur. "I could lick you like this for hours and never get enough."
