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Now I feel even guiltier. Have I been putting too much pressure on him to be somebody he isn’t? I want him to tell me everything but that isn’t the kind of person he is and it’s not the kind of person he has ever been. I’m being extremely unfair to him. Of course he should tell me his issues, but it should be on his terms, not mine.
Fuck.
I have been a raging bitch.
I feel like sobbing. Yes, I know it’s not all entirely my fault and I have every right to give him a few prods, except I haven’t been prodding; I’ve been shoving and that’s not fair on him. It isn’t fair on us.
So when I roll in from work, later than anticipated, and find him sleeping on his back in bed. I slide the blanket down to his knees as gently as possible and trail gentle kisses from his sternum to his boxers.
I feel him shudder and tense in his sleep as my tongue sweeps across the skin above the elasticated waistband. Tiny little bumps break out over his arms and he groans in his sleep. The sound is extremely erotic. When I finally suck as much of his delicious, swollen length into my mouth as I can, he jolts awake and lets out the most feral, lusting moan I’ve ever heard.
“Gwen,” he pants after a moment and his hands go to my hair. Fingers clench and I can tell he’s torn between ripping me away and forcing his hips up to my nose. I smile; I can’t help myself. I love how receptive he is to my teasing. I love how easily I can please him because I’m the only one who knows how.
His breath leaves him. It sounds ragged and heavy as I swallow him to near gagging.
“I love you,” he groans, still holding onto my hair. His hips buck as I continue to slowly glide my lips and tongue up and down his cock as my hands explore his body and remaining inches of him. He feels so hot. “You need to stop soon.” Fingers tap me on top of the head. “Babe… Gwen…” Hands try to gently pry me from him but I shrug him off. “Please… I… God… Gwen.”
“I want to taste you,” I whisper after releasing him from my mouth and caressing the delicate apex of his thighs with my tongue.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
He knows what I mean and I know he’s going to try and stop me, so I quickly suck him back into my mouth in a way that I know will render him speechless for a moment. As expected, he falls back onto his pillow and groans loudly. His hands grip the headboard and I hear the wood squeak under his tight grip.
“Enough,” he whispers through another moan. I know he doesn’t mean it. He just doesn’t want to finish before giving me the chance. He has always been a generous lover. It has always been about my pleasure before his own. “Gwen…”
I bat away his hand, working his cock eagerly with my warm mouth and swollen lips. I’ve yet to taste him, yet to swallow his essence, because the thought of it doesn’t appeal to him like it does most men. His extremely tough upbringing made sure to ruin such desires for him.
I just want him to experience it, just once. Mostly for my sake, but also for his.
The thought of it is so erotic. I bet he tastes as good as he looks.
“Gwen,” his tone is pleading, though for what, I doubt even he knows.
“Let me make you feel good,” I beg when he manages to pull my head up. Our eyes meet and his dilated pupils stare through the darkness and into mine. My fingers trace the trimmed hair around his solid length as we silently communicate. When his eyes close and his grip on my hair loosens, I get back to it, smiling around him when he whispers my name with such intensity my womb clenches. The need to bring myself to my own release using his body is unbearable. Every time he tenses, every time he groans, every time he whispers my name, tingles burn through my veins like lava through the grooves of a rock.
“I’m nearly there,” he warns as he always does and usually I’d allow him the reprieve. On any other evening, he’d flip me over and take me from behind, his favourite position and one of mine. Not tonight. “Gwen.”
I slap his hands away.
“Gwen,” his voice is more urgent this time. His hands grip my hair almost painfully and his legs tense. “Come here.”
“Nuh-uh.”
He hisses through his teeth and thrusts upwards. “Christ.”
This is it, I can feel it. His balls tighten as I roll them between my fingers. His hands tighten to the point my scalp aches. It only seems to make me feel more alive.
