Rare and Precious Things

He groaned his response at my answer, the rough rasp of his beard stubble at my neck again, teasing and sucking over the spot with his lips, making me shiver with need.

“Do you know why I have to?”

“Yeees I do…”

“Then tell me. Say the words I want to hear coming from your pretty lips.”

“Because I’m yours, Ethan.”

My declaration caused him to act immediately. I was pressed back into the soft bed with him looming over me, blue eyes searching mine, hooded with the dark desire of sexual power. And it was all for me. I could see the love in his eyes, too. Again, all for me.

“Yes, you are,” he answered smugly, sitting back on his knees. “But I have to make sure you’re ready for me first, baby. Open up and let me see that spectacular pu**y I love so much. I’ve missed it.”

My voyeur was back.

I reached back and pulled the combs of my veil out of my hair and lifted it to the side, before pushing it off the bed to land on the floor with a soft swish.

Ethan’s eyes widened as he watched me, the front of his silk pajama bottoms tenting from his erect cock. I need that cock.

Slowly, I slid my legs apart, first one and then the other, keeping my feet flat on the coverlet with knees bent. The urge to squirm under his bold inspection had to be forcefully suppressed, but I managed it, understanding his fantasy to have me spread before him, ready to be taken, at his will and desire. The idea of it just served to make me even more of a wanton creature.

“So beautiful. So perfect. So…mine,” he said, bringing his face closer to my sex.

The intense hunger, the anticipation that had brought me up to this point, now had me burning up with craving and lust. If he didn’t help me soon, I might be dead in an hour from now.

“Oh, f**k, yes,” he growled on a fast descent, plunging his tongue inside me sharply.

I shouted his name, unable to stifle my volume, terribly grateful we were alone in this house tonight, because I couldn’t help what I said, or did, after Ethan put his mouth on me.

He devoured my sex, using his tongue to penetrate, and his fingers to build me up to the pinnacle of another explosive orgasm that would undoubtedly leave me screaming more than just his name in a minute.

To the point I was frightened of my ability to endure any more, Ethan consumed me, bringing me to the peak of climax again and again, just to draw back and make me wait. But he knew what he wanted, just as he was very skilled with what he was doing to me.

I felt him shift his body, and then the rustle of silk as he ditched his pajamas bottoms. I watched him position his heavy c**k at my entrance and slide in just enough to lubricate the tip.

Ethan paused, his beautiful straining c**k right at the edge of my gate, pulsing against me. I was delirious for it. For him. The pagan sex-god come to mate with me and take me to heaven. The sight of him, so erotically potent, nearly caused me to orgasm right then and there.

“Not yet, my beauty. You have to wait,” he warned.

“I can’t wait anymore.” I thrust my hips up to take him into me.

He dragged his hands up and gripped the sides of my head, fisting my hair, binding me to him face to face, eyes on eyes, as was his requirement.

“You want my cock.” Not a question. Just a simple truth.

“I want it.” I begged.

“Then, my beauty shall have it,” he grunted, as he buried himself to his balls and filled me up. Just like he’d promised.

We both shouted at the intensity of our joining, staring at one another for a second as he lay encased inside me, pulsing with heat. Our hearts melded together in that moment. I am as sure of it as my next breath.

He filled my mouth with his tongue as he started to thrust, both parts of him moving in tandem to take me. As our bodies connected in a frenzy of sex, and heat, and carnal lust, he told me all of the things I loved to hear from my man.

Ethan held me to him, hands cupping my face, and whispered words against my lips as he ravished me. How much he loved me, how beautiful I was, how much I pleased him when I gave myself up to him, how he intended to f**k me like this daily, how good my “cunt” felt squeezing around his cock…

All of the beautiful, dirty, things he’d said to me before, and would undoubtedly say to me again.

Ethan also kept the promise he’d made to me earlier, just as I knew he would.

My husband was a virile beast when he f**ked his wife for the first time.

CHAPTER 3

I woke up sharply, breathing in sucking gulps of air. Brynne. I hated that the first thought in my mind was what I might have done in my sleep, and what her reaction would be to it this time. Had I shouted out angry things that frightened her? Thrashed around in the bed, disturbing her sleep? Tried to f**k her like a madman as a way to bring me down?

My fears were very real. I knew they were real because I’d done all of those things before in front of her.

I dared a glance over at her lying next to me, trying to slow my racing heart. There she was, on her side in all her naked glory, hair spilling wildly over the pillows, and smelling of the floral perfume she used, combined with the unmistakable essence of sex and cum. Her chin tilted in my direction as if she was breathing me in. Peacefully asleep.

Thank motherfucking hell.

Disaster averted. Again. I didn’t remember anything about what I’d dreamt, but the sharp waking did happen from time to time, and I f**king hated it almost as much as the dreams I sometimes did remember.

I turned onto my side, facing toward Brynne and revelled in the gorgeous view she made for me. I loved to watch her sleeping after we’d f**ked each other senseless. And I had most surely enjoyed every pounding, orgasmic second of the f**king we’d done on our wedding night. The urge to get up and step out for a smoke tickled my brain, but I told myself that it was just my brain wanting the nicotine my addiction of choice delivered. My body sure didn’t need it, and neither did my wife and child.

My wife was beautiful when she slept. She was beautiful all the time, even though she didn’t flaunt her beauty like other women I’d known. Brynne was different from every single one of them. A subdued type of beauty. Not flashy to bring attention to herself, but naturally beautiful, drawing interest without any effort at all. I had known it the instant I’d seen her at the Andersen Gallery that night for the show where I bought her portrait. My mind knew she was special before my body did. Now, I held onto the first glimpse of her in my head. It was a defining moment in my life. The place where I returned to when I needed the leveling down from the demonic tortures living in my subconscious. I’d just remember that night when our eyes met across the room. It was a very safe place to go to in my mind when I needed to.