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She tensed. “I-I can’t.”
“You can,” I told her, the warning clear in my voice.
Aoife shifted restlessly on the bed, and I moved away, knowing she was fighting several urges.
I had no doubt that she needed to come again. I also had no doubt that she was fighting my dominance.
Some women were born submissive. They just didn’t know it.
Aoife was, but she undoubtedly had a lifetime of women’s lib being deep-throated down her fucking gullet, and she thought she shouldn’t like the way I bossed her around.
I’d show her differently.
Unlike many men in my line of work, I didn’t actually want a totally compliant wife. In the bedroom was one thing, in other aspects of our life, it was another.
Women in this world needed backbone. Grit. I figured Aoife had that in spades if she’d felt strong enough to try to fight Acuig’s purchasing of her lot. It was there, but she was still being cautious.
I had time to show her how I wanted her to be.
Before she could complain anymore about the cum on her face, which had her skin gleaming like she’d put some of that shitty highlighter stuff I’d seen my bed-warmers in the past apply to their cheekbones to make them gleam under the light, I maneuvered to the foot of the bed.
This time, I got to my knees as I moved to the floor. I grabbed her legs and dragged her toward me. She released a squeal, but settled down with sobbing breaths that escaped her as she realized what I was about to do.
I pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her clit.
“Did I fuck your little cunt too hard?” I rasped.
She shuddered. Didn’t answer.
I nipped the bud, making her yelp.
“Well? Did I?”
A moan escaped her. “N-No. You fucked me just right.”
“Does your pussy want me again?” I asked before I slipped my tongue through her tender folds, moving down to the sensitive area I’d penetrated earlier. She wriggled on the bed, and I knew she was experiencing both discomfort and pleasure at the touch. Her breaths turned from small pants, to harsh ones as I reached up and began to rub her clit.
“O-Oh, God.”
I pulled back and tapped her clit. When she jerked at the sting but released a throaty moan, I knew she liked the bite of pain. “Blasphemous girl,” I chided. Not that I gave a fuck, but I liked punishing her.
So, fucking sue me.
She whimpered. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry to me,” I told her before I pounced once more, slurping up her clit, sucking down on it hard and fast until she was screaming, her body one big rictus of pleasure. Her legs came up to cup my head, but because her thighs were rounded and soft, it felt good instead of like being in a stranglehold.
I didn’t mind. I loved her passion, and I rewarded her, letting her orgasm and find her pleasure, loving how it seemed to flood her. She didn’t hold back, didn’t try to contain her desire to make sure she looked beautiful. It ripped through her like the tide, and I fucking loved how unpracticed she was.
And her taste?
Fuck me, it was better than fucking whiskey.
Earthy and musky, to be sure, but like honey, too.
I growled, not having sated myself enough on her taste. I tongue fucked her, sucked her clit until she found her release two more times. I only stopped when she was begging for me to stop, begging to be released from the crest of ecstasy I’d taken her to.
And because she asked so sweetly, I gave it to her, but it didn’t stop me from climbing back up, from pressing my lips to her ear, and whispering, “You’re going to be begging me to stop every fucking night from now on.”
