“Where are we going?” she asks, startled, wrapping her arms around my neck, afraid I might drop her.
“I’m going to give you a bath to get you nice and clean, wife. But don’t you worry. You won’t remain that way for long. Or do you want to end tonight’s lesson here?” I arch a brow.
She shakes her head and then cradles it into the crook of my neck.
“I told you I want to learn,” she whispers, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at how fucking trusting she’s being right now.
I could do whatever I wanted to her at this very moment, and she’d let me.
It’s as much a turn-on as it is aggravating.
But instead of revealing my thoughts to her, all I do is tip her chin up with my knuckles and stare into her warm earthy-brown gaze.
“Be careful what you wish for. Some lessons you can’t take back once you’ve learned them.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.”
The next morning, I wake up with strands of hair in my mouth. I brush them away, my eyes landing on the woman lying beside me, blissfully asleep, using my chest as a pillow.
I replay in my head all the things I did to her body last night, my cock hardening at reclaiming my wife again this morning.
“Good morning,” she coos, her voice dripping like molasses.
“Hmm.”
She raises her head and places her chin on my pec to look at me. I brush away the errant locks that keep straying to her face and gently tug them behind her ear.
“I must have fallen asleep after the second shower we took,” she says shyly.
To my cock’s bitter disappointment, she did.
After I had my way with her against the bathroom vanity after our bath, and put her on her knees so I could cum on her breasts, I had no alternative but to give her a shower. Of course, I didn’t waste the opportunity and fucked her from behind, but that last fuck took its toll on her, and before I had her wrapped up in a towel, she was already half asleep in my arms.
“Did you sleep well last night?” she asks, tracing the Kelly family crest tattoo I have on my chest with the pad of her finger.
“One thing you have to learn about me is that I don’t do small talk in the morning. I don’t do small talk, period.”
“Then what do you do in the morning?” she asks innocently, as if last night’s sex-fest didn’t give her any clues.
I gently run my knuckles up and down her bare back until her skin breaks out in goosebumps.
“It all depends,” I reply.
“On what?”
“On whether or not I have a beautiful woman lying naked beside me in bed.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” she preens, as if no one has ever uttered those words to her before.
Instead of stroking her nonexistent ego, I ask her a more pressing question. One that me and my cock are both far more interested in.
“How sore are you?”
Like clockwork her cheeks blush crimson.
“I’m okay.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“A little sore.”
My frown is instant.
“Why?” she asks curiously, pulling her finger away from my tattoo in favor of running it over my frowning lips.
I slap her finger away with more force than was needed and grip her wrist in my hand.
Her eyes widen in alarm, her whole body going tense at my knee-jerk reaction.
To soften the blow, I pull her wrist to my lips and press a tender kiss on its inside. This makes her melt into my body, as if the silent apology is enough for her.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I tell her in earnest.
“You don’t.”
I arch my brow calling bullshit on that statement.
“Okay, you do. But just not now. Not after well… you know.”
“You mean after we fucked?”
“Yeah. After that.” She blushes again, and I think a part of me is becoming a full-fledged junkie when it comes to her shy smiles and flushed cheeks.
It’s fucking addicting.
So much so that I want all of them just for me. Not wanting to think too hard on why that is or run the risk of getting angry so early in the morning, I turn her over to lie on her back until my body is looming on top of hers.
“How sore are you?” I repeat.
“On a scale of one to ten?” she teases.
“Aye.”
“Eleven.”
“That bad, huh? Shame. I was hoping to school you some more before we went to church this morning.”
“You’re coming with me?” she asks, surprised.
“Do you not want me to?” Her bewilderment chafes at my resolve to escort her.
“No. I do. Thank you,” she replies with such sincere gratitude that for a moment I’m at a loss for words.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I groan once I’ve recollected myself. “And if you really want to thank me, then I can think of better ways to do it.”
“Such as?”
I smirk at the way she tries hard not to bite her lip as she gazes into my eyes. Using my knee to push her thighs apart, I crawl down her body until her delectable pussy is a hair’s breadth away from my mouth.
“Let me show you.”
“You mean, teach me,” she taunts, twirling a lock of my hair with her finger.
I slap her pussy, eliciting a loud shriek from her.
“Lesson number one. Never interrupt me when I’m about to have my breakfast. Now open your legs and put them on my shoulders. I’m a sloppy eater.”
The sound of her giggle dies the minute my tongue laps at her slit.
The woman is too fucking sweet, inside and out. I’m pretty sure I’ll become a diabetic in no time with her around.
“Look at me,” I order between licks.
“Okay,” she mumbles breathlessly.
“Don’t you dare fucking cum until I say so. Understood?”
She nods shyly, only amping up my determination to eat her out like no man has ever gone down on a woman before.
And like the good girl she is, she only cums when I order her to.
Chapter 12
Rosa