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“No! We shouldn’t…”
“Yes, we should. We’ll be married soon. Lie back, Frankie, let me bring you pleasure. I promise I won’t fuck you tonight… at least, not with my dick.”
Sucking hard on the right tip, he rubbed the left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Pinching it, pulling it, twisting it, he tested her pain tolerance. Her moans and squirms told him he found the perfect little masochist for him.
She might not know it yet, or perhaps she did… hell, he didn’t know.
It didn’t matter. He would play her body like a violin that had been perfectly tuned for his pleasure.
Spurred on by her guttural sounds, he reached down, fingering the edge of the shorts, and yanked hard. Running afinger down her soft, unruly hairy mound, he cleared the lust from his throat to speak.
“We’ll take care of this hair later.”
Continuing to the center of her mound, he didn’t stop until he found her swollen clit. Lingering there for a second, he circled the top of her clit with his finger, listening to her groan beneath him.
Driving her to the edge, he stopped only when her breathing sped up. Moving his fingers lower, he spread her wet pussy lips, the thick, sweet honey lubricating his fingers and confirming the level of her arousal. Her words were saying one thing, but her responsive body was saying another altogether.
Finding the entrance to her pussy, he rimmed it, teasing her, not entering her, not yet. Her soft moans were music to his ears. He inserted a finger, slowly thrusting in and out, then thrust two fingers in, letting them linger. Her hips circled under him, moving up and down, trying to get control. With his free hand flat on her pelvis, he held her down while the fingers inside her flicked upward.
Pleas for more came from her lips as she tossed her head from side to side on the pillow.
“Please, please!” she begged.
“Please? Please what, Frankie? Please do this?” He lowered his mouth to right above where his finger was plundering her insides and flicked her clit with his tongue—left, right, side to side—dancing over her nub in the same rhythm as his fingers pulsed in and out of her.
Her scream as she rode out the orgasm filled the room. His cock ached under him, wanting to be free, to enjoy some of what his fingers were feeling. He was impatient to taste her, to ride her, to claim her fully.
He would take her and own her pussy, but not tonight. Tonight was about something else altogether. Licking her pussy,lapping up the sweet honey, he barely let her come down from the first orgasm before he was bringing her to a second.
Moving lower on the bed, he positioned himself in just the right spot, then pressed against her rosebud with his thumb and entered her asshole. Her pure animalistic cry told him no one had done that before. In rhythmic succession, his fingers fucked her vagina and her ass as he sucked her clit. Her juices spilled over his fingers as he worked to fulfill his promise, her soft moans turning into breathless pants as he drove her to the top of the cliff.
“Ahhhhhh.” She writhed beneath him. “Oh my God!”
Her body trembled under his fingers as he increased his speed, faster, almost violently, pushing inside of her, adding one more finger. Three of his large digits filled her, stretching the skin, and he knew she couldn’t take anymore without tearing. He flicked his fingers up as he thrusted, lapping at her swollen nub with his tongue, push her as close as he could without allowing her to cum.
“I own you, Francesca. You will be my wife. Say it.”
“Please!” she gasped out.
“Say it.” He knew she needed his tongue to fall into the sweet orgasm just beyond her reach.
“Oh! Oh! Please!” She gasped again, writhing violently, thrusting her hips to meet his fingers.
Leaving his fingers inside of her pussy and his thumb seated inside of her ass, he commanded again.
“Say it, Francesca. Say you will be my wife.”
“I will be your wife,” she gasped out.
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Good girl.”
With renewed energy, Shane restarted his ministrations. Three fingers went in and out of her vagina, pulsing, fuckingher, and one in her ass, moving alongside them. His tongue massaged her clit until her screams filled the room, but he didn’t stop. Her screams turned to soundless, open-mouthed thrashes of bliss.
Watching her come down from the second orgasm was a beautiful sight—her eyes glazed over, the drool on the corner of her mouth, the wild hair across the pillow—he could get used to this.
