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“You like that?” I murmur, increasing the pressure.
Her throat contracts and she nods.
Grinning, I nip again, setting her down as I slide lower; I shift, pulling my arms around her thighs so I can drape them over my shoulders, dropping to my knees on the shower floor. Her pale pink panties are soaked through, doing nothing to hide the outline of her swollen sex to my hungry gaze.
I lick my lips, glancing up at her as my hands glide up her thighs and slip a thumb beneath the fabric on her hips. They’re lace, so they tear with little effort, and I toss them aside, taking a moment to admire the silken flesh between my wife’s thighs.
One of her hands comes up to her breast, kneading softly. With each move I make, she watches, eyes blazing. I inch forward, coasting my lips up the expanse of her thigh, and she never removes her gaze.
I pause, seeing the new cut from whoever accosted her at the bus station; a sliver sliced into her skin by an amateur knifeman, hooking on the end of the K I put there.
Elena blinks down at me, emotion welling in her irises, like my hesitance is making every bad memory flood back. Gritting my teeth for a second, I move in and score my teeth over the wound, reopening it.
Blood beads in the cut immediately, and I cover the area with my mouth, slowly running my tongue over the coppery fluid.
I swirl back and forth, letting her soak my tastebuds, reveling in her lack of resistance. In the look of awe that shines in her gaze.
She shivers, scratching at my scalp as I suck at the site, desperate to memorize the taste, but she never breaks her stare. Like I’m the actor in a play put on for her own viewing pleasure, and she can’t bear to look away in case she misses something important.
She wants a show, I’ll give her fireworks.
Skimming my way past the wound, I drift inward, smearing her blood and loving the way the crimson complements her creamy skin, like a field of red and white poppies.
My gut clenches tight as I reach her glistening pussy, brushing my nose over her lips, inhaling the tang of her arousal. Wrapping my arms around her thighs, securing her in place against the wall, I slowly dive in, parting her with my tongue and flicking at her clit with the tip.
She cries out at the first lap on her sensitive flesh, legs already shaking against my ears, like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.
It spurs me on, sending a shock wave down the length of my spine, and I redouble my efforts, fusing my mouth to her sopping core, licking and swirling and teasing until I’m groaning into her, high on her sweet taste.
Before the night we shared together, it’d been years since I’d been with anyone else. After a bit of a chaotic, post-heartbreak phase, I threw myself into work and tried to establish a relationship with my sister, denying myself the basic carnal pleasures in life.
Until last Christmas, I hadn’t known that anything was missing.
Didn’t realize that I was practically living without one of my limbs, trying to navigate life as though nothing was wrong.
I’d been frantic, desperate to sink inside of her after wanting her from afar for so long. She’d been just as frenzied, matching my energy with each thrust, eager to obey my every command, and our time had been short. A spark that ignited quickly, and burned out before it could fully expand.
I have no intentions of that being the case now.
“Kallum...” she chokes out, jutting her hips, pushing herself tighter against me. “Please.”
Her clit throbs beneath my tongue, and I suckle greedily at the bundle of nerves like she’s the antidote to a life of misery. Her gyrations send electricity surging through my veins, and I lap faster, harsher, trying to create more friction against her.
“Please what?” I ask, without removing myself from her pussy; the words vibrate against her skin, and she trembles violently, on the precipice of release.
Shifting my efforts, I angle my tongue slightly and switch to counterclockwise motions, slowing the speed until she’s tossing her head back and riding the movements.
Pausing when I don’t hear any words on her part, I raise an eyebrow, pulling back. She grunts, yanking at my hair, trying to get me to go back in.
“Please what, Elena?” I repeat, my voice thick.
She frowns, her eyebrows knitting together. “You already know what.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Releasing the stress on my scalp, her fingers go slack, and she glares down at me. “You’re joking, right?”
“I’d never joke about making you come.” My cock is rock hard just thinking about it.
