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I gasp when he slips his finger into the waistband and tugs them down before crouching to peel them down my legs. He slides them into his pocket, and I should probably stop him. I’m not about to go to the stage with no panties on and my sex trembling from the memory of my husband’s touch.
But there is no stopping Luca.
Whatever it is he wants . . . he gets.
And it seems he always wants me. I gasp out loud, slapping a hand on my mouth when he grabs my right leg and lifts it over his shoulder, bunching up the skirt of my dress around my hips.
“Luca!”
“Shhh,” he says with a smirk. “Let me take care of you, princess. Clean up your pussy, so you don’t go out there all wet and horny.”
“Oh, God!”
My knees buck when Luca presses his face between my thighs, and the strong stroke of his tongue almost sends me sliding down the door. I bite back a sob as he drags his eager tongue over my slit, licking me up like I am his favorite dessert.
I drop my hand to his hair and grab a fistful, tugging hard and pulling his face flush against my sex. I cry out as I ride his tongue like a crazed woman, but I can’t get enough.
I can’t get enough of this man. My husband.
Six years of marriage, and I still want him as much as I did the first day I met him, if not more.
“Close,” I pant as he licks at my arousal, my knees beginning to shake as I grow closer to an orgasm, and when his mouth closes around my clit, sucking the bud gently, I lose it.
I come with a sob, biting into my arm to curb the sound before it makes its way to the crowd patiently waiting for my performance. His tongue laps me up through the orgasm until I am practically melting against him.
There is a satisfied grin on his face as he rises to his feet. “Feeling better?” he says, and my eyes follow his tongue when it peeks out to lick his glistening lips.
“Much.” I smile, eyes dropping to his tented pants. “Don’t you need my help with that?”
“Later,” he says, pecking my lips. “Something to look forward to after the show.
Someone knocks on the door. “Katya, you have ten minutes.”
There is a satisfied look on my husband’s face as he leans in to kiss my lips again. “I told you I only needed five minutes.”
“We’re going to need more if you don’t back up,” I whisper, reaching up for a deeper kiss, but the tease actually moves back.
“I’ll go check on the boys. We’ll be watching and cheering you on.”
He pecks my cheeks before leaving the dressing room. My thoughts are on him and the little family we’ve created for ourselves, and when I walk on stage to start the show, I realize the nerves are gone.
My fingers are steady as I play the cello, and I can’t help but seek out Luca in the crowd, and when my eyes lock with my husband’s much darker ones, peace settles in my heart.
That rogue is my happy place.
And always will be.
~The End
