Viktor is lying on the king-sized bed when I walk out, shirtless and in only joggers that rest just below his hips, the most casual that I’ve ever seen him. His eyes skate over me with a sudden heat that startles me. I can’t get used to the idea that he could want me, seeing me in stark broad daylight, but as I walk closer to the bed, he makes a motion with his finger, encouraging me to keep going.
“Take the towel off,” he says, his voice gruff with that edge of desire that I know how to recognize so easily now. “I want to see you.”
“I—”
“Let me see you, Caterina,” he says, in a voice that brooks no argument, and I know exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to reinforce how he sees me, over and over, until I stop hesitating to let him see me naked, until I don’t feel self-conscious anymore. I don’t know how long that particular tactic is going to take to work, if it ever does, but I obey him anyway.
I don’twantto feel like this, like a stranger in my own skin, and if my suddenly thawing husband can help me with that, so much the better.
What I don’t want to admit to myself is that if sex between us is going to be the way it was yesterday, I could get used to this.
I couldwantit all of the time.
I tug the corner of the towel loose, letting it fall to the floor. The moment it falls away, I feel the slight chill against my bare skin. I feel my stomach twist, my heart pounding in my chest with a feeling close to panic. But nothing changes in Viktor’s face. Nothing negative, anyway. All I see is a growing desire, his eyes heating as he looks at my bare body and skin still flushed from the heat of the shower.
“Come here,” he says, beckoning again, and I hesitate.
“The sheets are white—what if—”
“Don’t worry. They can be replaced. Come here,” he repeats, and I know better than to make my husband ask a third time.
Slowly, I climb onto the bed, my hair still bound up in the smaller towel. As I kneel on the mattress next to him, Viktor reaches up, plucking the towel out of my hair and tossing it aside. The abundance of wet hair that was bound by the towel, now cascades down around my shoulders. He runs his fingers through it, wrapping some of it around his hand as he pulls me down for a kiss.
“I want you again,” he murmurs against my lips. “My wife. My bride.”
A small thrill of desire runs through me at that, and I can feel the dampness between my thighs, just at the feeling of his hand tight in my hair and the whispered words of desire. I’d never known that some of the things Viktor does to me could turn me on so much, and I suspect there’s much more that might if I gave it a chance.
I don’t know if I want to, though. I don’t know if I want to know how dark my desires could be, given space to explore. And I don’t know that I want to give in to Viktor so completely. I have some idea of the things he might want to do to me, the sort of submission he might expect if I gave in to it willingly. I feel a curl of excitement somewhere deep inside of me at the thought.
But I would have to be able to trust him, and I don’t know if I can do that. Not yet.
Viktor’s hand slides down, pushing his joggers off as he kisses me, and I catch a glimpse of his thick cock lying against his stomach, already hard and ready for me. “I want your mouth,” he groans against my lips. “If you can.”
I run my tongue over my lower lip, testing the spot where it was split, feeling for soreness. It’s not completely healed, but something about his concern for my well-being makes mewantto do it for him, to take him into my mouth and feel him against my tongue, taste him.
“I don’t know how much I can do,” I whisper. “But I’ll try.”
CATERINA
Viktor nods, letting go of my hair and groaning as I reach for him, running my fingers down the length of his shaft as I slide downwards, moving a little bit awkwardly as I try to find a position that doesn’t hurt me to lie in. I catch a glimpse of the healing wounds around my wrists, and I can’t help but wonder if he notices it when he looks down at my hand encircling his cock, how it can possibly be that it doesn’t turn him off. But the throbbing against my palm tells me that he’s anything but turned off. There’s already pre-cum pearling at the tip, and I rub my thumb over it, feeling the stickiness against my finger as I slide my hand downwards, leaning forward to brush my lips over him.
He groans when I purse my lips over the swollen flesh, running my tongue over the small opening where I can taste him, the pulsing vein that runs along the top of his shaft throbbing against my fingers as I slowly slide down, inch by inch. I can’t take him very far into my throat, but I make up for it with my lips and tongue and hand. Rubbing my tongue over that very sensitive spot just beneath the tip of his cock, stroking him firmly as I do, until I hear him groan aloud.
Viktor’s hips arch upwards, thrusting into my hand as I touch him, licking and sucking and stroking, feeling him throb and pulse in my grip, enjoying this little bit of power I have over him, to please him exactly the way I know he likes and draw it out for as long as I want.
Or until he gets tired of being teased, that is.
It’s a while. He lets it go until he can see me getting tired, his face taut with pleasure as he enjoys the heat of my mouth, my tongue lapping at him, and my hand moving in firm strokes up and down his thick length. Then he reaches for me, pulling me up his body.
“I don’t want to be on top—” I protest, as his hands rest on my hips, pulling me over him to straddle him with his cock brushing against my inner thigh.
“I want to see all of you,” Viktor insists, his gaze raking over me. “Can you ride me, Caterina? Or does it hurt too much?”
“Slowly, maybe,” I hedge, and I wonder if I really want to do this. I see the desire in his eyes, seeing me bare and atop him, and his cock lurches against my thigh, further evidence of how turned on he is by me. Can I be this vulnerable in front of him right now? Can I even manage to do this with my body still healing the way it is?
“If you get tired, we’ll switch,” Viktor says, his hands stroking my hips, and I nod, suddenly breathless. I don’t recognize this man, this isn’t the husband I married, and this is a man I could actually fall for. A handsome, caring man, one who is worried about my well-being, who doesn’t want to push me further than my limits. I would never have thought that this side of him existed.
I gasp when he angles his cock between my thighs, feeling the swollen head pushing at my folds, ready to impale me. I feel that rush of need, the memory of the pleasure that I feel every time he fucks me, intense and all-consuming, and I know that it’s so close. As he starts to thrust upwards, his hands resting on my hips as he slowly pulls me down the length of his cock, I can feel it beginning to flood my veins, sparks dancing over my skin as he fills me, his cock touching every nerve ending I ever knew I had and some that I didn’t.