He was so dense. It was adorable. “And why didn't you do that when you found out?” I said.
He seemed to think about this for a long time. “Because... I suppose because I didn't want you to leave,” he said, and surprise colored his voice. He pulled me close, his arms around me tightening.
“Felicia,” he said. “Don't leave.”
“Ugh. Don't get all sentimental on me,” I told him, and kissed him.
Our lips met, for the first time as equals, and yet the fire that had consumed us was undimmed. Even more, it now had a sharp, sweet edge to it, an edge that sliced right through my heart. Urgently I kissed Anton, and he responded eagerly. His hands, rough and hungry, roamed my body, warming me, filling me up even as my heart spilled out. I parted my lips, and his tongue slipped inside my mouth, tangling with mine. No longer did we fight for dominance, but together we stroked and licked, dancing. The desire I had held for him the entire time we were apart flared up, embers reigniting with his breath.
"Anton," I whispered. "Anton, please."
I didn't know what I was asking for, only that it was out of my reach without him. Then he was pulling me into his lap and we were a jumble, hands and arms and legs, lips falling where they may in fevered kisses, and his hard, warm chest against mine filled me with anticipation. My greedy mouth ran over his throat, and his pulse hammered out of control. My legs hooked around his waist and I moved over him, restless and starving for him. His cock, already hard as a diamond, pushed up into the soft, hot hollow of my pussy. We fit together, sweet and hard, and I wanted to sob with happiness.
Anton lifted me, my legs still locked around his waist, and carried me out of the gallery and up the stairs as my teeth found his earlobe and bit down. I wanted to devour him, wanted him to devour me. I let my tongue wander the folds of his ear and he groaned and trembled, sagging against the wall of the foyer when at last he reached it. His hands on my ass gripped me with bruising force, opening my pussy lips and parting my buttocks, exposing my empty places. I needed to be filled, and quickly. Pushing away from him, I climbed down and grabbed his hand. Together we ran up the stairs to his bedroom. Each step rubbed my thighs together, and my pussy, wet and slick with desire, shivered with the friction.
We barely made it in the door before Anton fell on me, and we went down to the floor. The hard wood jarred me, and I was trapped between two hard things. Above me Anton bent his head to my throat, his hands moving the hem of my sweatshirt up over my stomach, his thumbs stroking the muscles there, and I moaned and bucked against him. I needed him inside me. I needed all of him.
His hands found my breasts, covered them, squeezed, and I cried out. My eyes unfocused with the strength of my desire, my whole body a clinging, wanting thing, with no reason, no inhibitions at last. I wanted to love Anton. I wanted to know him. And he had let me in, just a little bit. The first step.
It was enough for me for now. We were married, after all. We had the rest of our lives to figure it out.
We wrestled on the floor, Anton flipping me over onto my stomach. The control that had always been there had loosened, and he was a man run wild, his hands everywhere, hooking into my pussy through my jeans, his erection grinding against the swell of my ass. I groaned and pushed back into him, begging him to take me however he wanted me, but he couldn't seem to get enough of touching me. As if he had been starving for a month, lost without being able to hold me, fuck me, do with me as he pleased. I reveled in it, in the proof of his need for me. He was in deep, and so was I.
Reaching back, I ripped my shirt off, leaving it on the floor, and his hands unhooked my bra in record time, letting my breasts bounce free. His hands were on them in seconds, rough and possessive, my nipples scraping over his palms as he squeezed, pain and pleasure mingling inside me. He nudged my ass with his hips, his erection working its way between my ass cheeks.
"Fuck me," I moaned. "Please, Anton."
"Felicia." It came out as a grunt, and then he was hooking his arms around me, between my breasts and under my thigh, lifting me up from the floor. The world tipped and turned, and then I was landing on the bed, the softness reaching up to embrace me.
He slipped my shoes and socks off before his hands fell to my waistband, ripping the button from its hole, unzipping my jeans. With a quick, sudden tug I was only in my panties.
"I want to tie you up," he said. "I want to do so many things to you."
"Do them," I said. "I trust you."
A pained look crossed his face. "Thank you," he said, and he lowered his face to mine, capturing my lips in another kiss as his hands wandered to my panties. He moved the fabric aside, dipping his fingertips past my pussy lips, exploring my slippery cunt. His skin burned through his clothes, and I reached up, running my hands up over his hard shoulders, down his chest, crooking my fingers and catching his nipples through the soft fabric of his sweater. He hissed as I tugged at the hem of his undershirt, and the hand that wasn't probing my pussy came up and grabbed my hair. "Felicia," he said, his voice hoarse. "You don't know what you do to me."
His scent filled my nose--warm and rich, the smell of fine fabrics and expensive aftershave, and under that the wild smell of a man who wanted nothing more than to lose control.
He flipped me over onto my stomach, his hot mouth descending on my spine. Frantically he sucked and nipped his way down my back, and I writhed under him as his hands squeezed and worked my ass through the cotton of my panties. When at last he reached my waist, I felt the scrape of teeth over my skin and he was tugging my panties away with his mouth.
I lifted my hips to make it easier for him, and he dipped his tongue into the crack of my ass, making me gasp. Reaching up he worked my underwear off the rest of the way as he rimmed my tight asshole, his tongue dipping and probing inside me. Embarrassment flooded me, but also arousal. He didn't care. He wanted me completely, no matter what the cost. His fingers found my pussy, and then he was pumping away at my cunt as he tongued my asshole.
My hands gripped the comforter, twisting the cool fabric into bunches as he fucked me with his hands and his mouth. It had been so long, so many nights spent thinking about fucking him, spent trying to please myself and failing, that I was already quivering around him, my body galloping toward a violent release. I was no longer in control of myself. I was completely and utterly his, and I never wanted it to be otherwise.
"Anton!" I cried into the comforter. "Anton, please, Anton, Anton, Anton--"
"Fellicia," he murmured into my skin, and inside me he curled his fingers and pulled.
My orgasm flowed over me in waves, pulling and tugging like a riptide, sucking me under. I shrieked into the mattress, my whole body thrashing as his fingers fucked me and his mouth sucked at the tight ring of nerves between the full mounds of my ass. He held onto me, his free hand snaking over my thighs, keeping me still under his ministrations as I came. But even as the pleasure subsided and my orgasm retreated, I felt unsatisfied. I needed him in me. I needed him to come in me, to reclaim me.
"Anton," I said. "Anton, do whatever you want with me."
He withdrew, and the cool air hit my wet, tight entrance, making it quiver. His fingers still pumped inside my pussy, and I just wanted to follow them wherever they went. "Are you sure?" he asked me.
"I'm your wife," I said. "And I trust you. Please, take me."
His free hand smoothed over my stomach as he rose up and curled his body over mine. "Felicia," he said, and his voice quavered very slightly. He was touched by my trust. I knew he wanted to be with me, and only his fear of losing me, of losing what we could be, had caused him to keep secrets from me. But it was okay. It was okay.