He swallows, his eyes so deep I could drown in their darkness. “Yes,” he answers. “What do you need?”
“I need you,” I admit. “I need you to not treat me like I’m broken. Be bossy. Tell me what to do. Push me a little—just not as much as you did the first time.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful I’m scared to touch you. I don’t want to break you.”
“You won’t,” I whisper. “I’m not fragile. You won’t hurt me. You can only heal me.”
I reach for the towel again, slowly pulling it open. I swallow hard before slipping my hand around his cock, hot and damp from the shower and straining against my palm.
“Eliza,” he says, his voice rough as I kneel up and crawl back down the bed. “You don’t have to—”
He breaks off when I flatten my palm and run it along the shaft of his cock. It throbs against my palm, and a tremor goes through me. I shift my position to press my knees together against the ache growing there. But I won’t pay attention to that. I’ll pay attention to servicing my husband. I want to satisfy him.
I know I’m not great at this, but it feels good, exciting and dangerous but not too scary. I swallow hard at the size of it, my pulse fluttering in my throat. It’s so big, and so hot in my hand. Suddenly, a thrill of anticipation goes through me at the thought of it inside me, bare and straining to fit in.
I slide my hand back down it to the base, until I feel the lump of his balls. I stop, still not sure how much I’m supposed to touch them. Something about them feels embarrassing, like I went too far. Obviously I know guys have balls, but even when I saw porn, I don’t remember them. I never paid any attention to them, and now I’m not sure what to do about them. They’re so…visceral.
King clears his throat, running a hand over the back of my head and lifting my face. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, his voice low almost choked. If I couldn’t tell by the hardness against my palm, his voice lets me know exactly how much he wants me to do it, even if he’s giving me an out.
Our eyes meet, and I gulp down my trepidation. There’s so much in those eyes, but I can’t read what it all means. I want to, though. I want to know what’s mixed into that longing in his gaze. “Let me?” I ask. “I liked it last time.”
He looks like he might protest, but I slip off the side of the bed before he can. I sink back on my heels to admire the raw beauty of his naked body, all chiseled angles and lean muscle as he stands. I want to trace the V of his hips, run my fingers along the sculpted muscles of his abs. But most of all, I find myself staring at his cock, standing tall and proud against his lower belly, straight and deeper in color than the rest of his skin.
A hot thrill races through me, adding pressure to the ache between my thighs. His cock is so… Animal. It looks rough and brutish and wild, so unlike the calculating, reserved man it belongs to. It makes me tremble with fear again as I lean forward and gingerly wrap my fingers around it.
He sucks in a breath, his hand circling the back of my head, stroking my hair. I tense, expecting him to shove his cock down my throat and fuck my mouth again. But he doesn’t pull me forward, instead letting me look at him, explore him with my fingers at my own pace. I wrap my hand around his shaft, sliding it down his thick length. Part of me wants to pull away, to turn and flee, like I’ve done before. But another part is fascinated. I thumb the thick vein that runs the length of his stiff cock, then run my fingers over the ridge around the head. His skin is velvety smooth, but beneath it, I can feel the steely muscles straining for relief.
I almost wish he’d be a dick about it again, just force me to do what he wants whether or not I want to so I don’t have a choice and can’t back out. It’s hard to deal with his kindness, especially when it’s so undeserved. I’ve been a horrible wife. A horrible person. I hardly gave him the time of day since our wedding, and he’s been nothing but respectful of my need for space since he took my virginity. And yeah, okay, he was barbaric that night, and sometimes he’s cold and haughty, but compared to the other men my father could have given me to?
There is no comparison.
I’ve met a lot of made guys, and if I’m honest, King’s the best one I know. Yeah, he’s new and low ranking, but that means he hasn’t had years to become a hardened, heartless brute like a lot of mafia men. I don’t know of a single one who wouldn’t have demanded I fulfill my wifely duties on our wedding night, that’s for damn sure. He could have made me service him every single night, could have overpowered me from my wedding day onwards, but he didn’t. He did it once, and he showed me how sorry he is for that even though he had every right to demand that I become his wife in more than name. I recognize that, and I’m more than willing to thank him for his patience in this way.
I lean in, angling my head to kiss along his shaft from the base to the tip. He’s breathing hard by the time I reach the head, and I feel a swell of pride rise inside me. His cock throbs against my lips, demanding more, and I open and lower my mouth over his salty tip. He lets out a soft groan, his fingers tightening in my hair. I’m not sure what to do next, so I begin to lick and suck gently.
I keep going until my cheeks start to ache from the work. When I slow, King begins to move his hips a little, keeping my rhythm going.
“Let me take over,” he says after a few minutes. “Just relax your throat and keep your teeth off. I won’t hurt you.”
I remember the last time, when he threatened to knock my teeth out. We’ve come so far.
I nod, but when he grips my hair and starts to move my head, I tense up. I still get nervous about losing control.
He pulls out, his hard cock slick with my saliva, bumping against my cheek as it stands up straight again. King takes my chin and lifts it, his dark eyes searching mine. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb across my wet lower lip. A shiver goes through me, and I press my knees together. “If it gets to be too much, pinch me, and I’ll stop. No questions asked. Okay?”
I have to admit, I have no clue what I’m doing. I’ve only done this once and he said I was bad at it. If I let him show me, I can see what he likes so I can do better next time. I nod, and he grips his cock and lowers it back to my mouth, pushing it between my lips and over my tongue.
“Fuck,piccola, I want to cum down this pretty throat,” he purrs, his smooth voice so seductive I don’t care what he’s saying to me. I think he could say he wanted to murder me in that tone, and I’d agree. I wonder how many other girls he’s gotten to kneel for him by using that voice.
Stroking the side of my throat with his fingers, he begins to move my head in rhythm with his hips, rocking them forward and back, his cock sliding deeper with each shallow thrust. My pulse flutters against his fingertips, and a burst of nerves shimmers through me, making me quake. I raise my eyes to his, holding his gaze while he slides his cock deep into my mouth. Another tremor goes through me, clenching in my core.
I feel… Powerful. Somehow, even though I’m on my knees just allowing him to do as he pleases, I feel alive and excited and… Sexy. I can imagine myself through his eyes, on my knees at his feet, my mouth open for him to fuck while my eyes hold his, begging for him to have mercy on me as he takes charge. But that’s the key. I’mallowinghim to take control. I see the complete surrender in his eyes, that he’s lost to his lust while I’m still in control of my senses, even as he uses my mouth for his pleasure.
After a minute, I adjust to the new sensations, spreading my knees on the floor and arching my back, taking hold of the base of his cock and adding a little suck with each thrust of his hips. He knows what he’s doing, so I let him do it while I take note of what he likes. It also lets me pay attention to the things I was too absorbed to notice when I was worrying about what I was doing wrong. I cup his balls in my hand, moving them inside his soft skin. He groans quietly and thrusts harder, hitting the back of my mouth, his cock straining against my throat.
Tears spring to my eyes and I gag, pulling back. He slows, stroking the back of my head, but he doesn’t pull out this time.
“Baby girl, your mouth feels so good,” he says, gliding in and out slowly until I recover. I can taste salt and a musky flavor, and saliva fills my mouth as his soft skin slides against my tongue. I want more. I kneel up higher, wrapping my hands around his thighs and pulling him closer again. I suckle greedily at him, and he moans and pumps deep into my mouth again, his thick cock throbbing as salt spreads over my tongue.