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He says it with utmost seriousness, but something tells me he’s not wholly convinced. I reach out and palm his erection through his tuxedo pants. “Your cock seems to disagree.”
“He usually does,” Dmitri grunts. “But you don’t have to do this.”
“I know that. But I want to.” I lick my lips. “Now, are you gonna let me give you your gift or not?”
His silence is all the answer I needed.
I unbuckle him and free his length. It’s slow at first. A teasing kiss here, a light squeeze there. A touch and a breath before I’m gone again. I can feel his groans as much as I can hear them, like little tremors running below the surface of the earth in advance of the earthquake that’s yet to come.
Soon, though, I’m dripping wet and little teases are as torturous for me as they are for him. So I take him in both hands and massage slowly as I twist and pump, twist and pump. Those groans grow in volume and number. When he twitches, I grin.
No one else gets to see him like this. Not a single other soul alive. He’s an iron-masked titan to every last person on this planet except for me.
But when I’m on my knees and he’s filling my mouth like this, I get to see that mask fall and I get to know that I can make Dmitri Egorov fall to pieces.
That’s just one more gift he gives me.
I let his head pass my lips and then I keep going. More and more and more of him, until my throat is full and his taste is thick on my tongue and my jaw is straining to open any wider. When I peek up, Dmitri’s eyes are rolling back in his head and he’s spluttering my name, barely able to get past the first letter.
“W… Wr… Wre…”
It’s a blur of motion from there. I bob and suck and stroke. At some point, his hand touches the back of my head. I like feeling one more point of connection. His thighs pressing on either side of me as I milk him…
And then, as black mascara tears run down my cheeks and I can’t jerk him any harder, he finally erupts.
It’s a never-ending orgasm. He comes rope after rope into my mouth and I take it all eagerly. Salty perfection. Dmitri finally finishes my name right as it peaks.
“Wren!” Just a grunted, gasping, growling, perfect syllable.
I may be the one on my knees, but I’ve never felt more powerful.
Especially when I glance up and look at my future husband. He’s lying limp against the chair with sweat dotting his forehead. His chest rises and falls heavily and his eyes look like he’s seen heaven and found it suitable.
“Holy fuck,” he murmurs at last, looking at me with awe. “Where did that come from?”
I blush, suddenly shy. “I guess I wanted to say my vows with the taste of you on my tongue.”
Those gray eyes of his spark up again. “Well then, it’s only fair that I have the same experience.”
Before I can stop him, he’s on the floor in front of me, pushing me down onto the carpeted floor. “Dmitri,” I gasp as he disappears under my dress. “Dmitri… w-we don’t have time…”
He answers by going down on me like the world is burning to ashes around us. He doesn’t stop until I come as hard as he did, and then a few more times for good measure.
There’s a moment right near the end of it when something occurs to me. A revelation I guess, if that’s even a real thing.
It’s just me realizing that, as far as vows go, we can’t do any better than this right here. There’s something beautiful and sacred and symmetrical about giving each other this kind of pleasure before we commit ourselves to one another for the rest of our lives.
It’s the best kind of promise. The best kind of reassurance. The best kind of vow.
What can I say?
We were never gonna be a traditional couple.
34
WREN
“I pledge to protect you with my life, moya ledi.”
