The Kiss Thief(80)

“Sweetheart.” His eyes crinkled as he looked at me. “As I said before, the dates don’t add up.”

“Screw the dates.”

“Can I screw you instead?”

I laughed. “Fine. I’m taking your word for it.”

“As you should.” He chucked my chin again.

“Stop doing that, Wolfe. I told you. It makes me feel like a kid.”

He stood up, completely naked, and hoisted me over his shoulder, careful not to touch my ribs, then carried me to the master bedroom, planting a teasing slap on my butt cheek, before biting on it softly.

“What are you doing?” I laughed breathlessly.

“Some very grown-up things to you.”





We spent the night in the same bed, going through three condoms. The morning after, we checked on Artemis again. She was happy to see us, and I took her for a quick ride, surprised with the minimal discomfort having sex four times last night had caused me. We gave her food and water and sat by her side in the barn. That morning, in the barn with Artemis as our audience, Wolfe taught me how to perform oral sex on a man. He lowered me to my knees, stood up, unzipped his dark Diesels, and took himself out. At first, he taught me how to stroke it, then how to squeeze it. When I felt comfortable enough, he asked if I wanted to put it in my mouth.

“Yes.” I looked down at the hay, swallowing down my shame.

“Look at me, Francesca.”

I looked up, blinking at his gray eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with what you’re about to do. You know that, right?”

I nodded, but I didn’t actually believe it. I was pretty certain every single person I went to church with, including my own parents, would have a heart attack if they knew what we were doing.

“What if people find out?”

He laughed. The bastard full-blown laughed.

“Everyone you know older than eighteen has had oral sex, Francesca.”

“I didn’t.”

“And thank fuck for that.”

Surely, he was just telling me what I wanted to hear. Wolfe probably read the doubt on my face because he stroked the side of my cheek and sighed.

“Do you think I’m a pervert?” he asked.

“What?” I felt my face heating. “No, of course not.”

“Good. Because I eat your pussy every day. Have been for weeks, now. And plan to do so for the rest of my life. You giving your husband pleasure is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“But you said oral sex is degrading.” I licked my lips, tossing his words from when we were engaged to the air between us.

“It’s degrading to kneel, in general. It is not degrading to kneel for someone who is worth your pride.”

I knew Wolfe was not one to talk lightly about pride. He was, after all, the Narcissus to my Nemesis. Whatever made him clutch to his pride like this had scarred him thoroughly. I wrapped my lips around his engorged head, feeling his hand guiding mine around the base of his shaft, before he put his hand over the back of my head and slowly dragged my mouth along his girth, until his crown touched the back of my throat. I wanted to gag but held back.

“Now suck on it.” He sank his fingers into my hair and clutched my roots, hard.

I was surprised by how much I enjoyed sucking his cock. I not only enjoyed the act and the velvety, warm skin, but also his unique, manly scent and the way he responded to it, jerking in my mouth and letting out desperate groans. My jaw and lips hurt by the time he held my hair and pulled out of me, tilting my head up and making me look deep into his eyes.

“You know I respect you,” he said gruffly.

“I know,” I murmured, my lips swollen and sensitive.

“Good. Because for the next five seconds, it’s going to look like I don’t.” He squeezed his length and shot his cum all over my face and breasts.

The warm liquid slithered down my cheek. It was thick and slimy but oddly enough, not degrading. All I could feel was more lust, and my womb clenching against nothing, begging for something that my husband had.

I licked the cum from the corner of my lips and looked back up to him, smiling.

He smiled back.

“I think we’re going to get along fine, my dear wife.”





I WOKE UP WITH THE same, terrible craving. A sweet tooth that wouldn’t go away.

I feel like a strawberry milkshake.

No. I need one. Bad.

I rolled from my side of the bed and bumped into hard abs, groaning as I cracked one eye open. Five weeks after our retreat to Lake Michigan, and I’d found out some interesting facts about my new life with Senator Wolfe Keaton. For one thing, I very much enjoyed waking my husband up with a blow job. For another, he thoroughly enjoyed my new role as his human alarm. I kissed my way down his stomach, following the happy trail of dark hair, and lowered his gray sweatpants with his college name on them. Once I had him in my mouth, he stirred awake, but unlike the other times, he flung the blankets off of us and pulled me by my hair, gentle, but firm.

“Not gonna cut it today I’m afraid.” He threw me back on the mattress so I was on all fours, retrieving a condom from the nightstand. I still wasn’t on the pill. I was supposed to book an appointment as soon as we got back from Lake Michigan, but I was embarrassed to go by myself, knowing I’d get checked down there. I didn’t want to go with Ms. Sterling, and knew that Mama and Clara did not believe in contraception, in general. I called Andrea three times, and she said that she’d have loved to come with me, but my father would kill her if she was seen with me in public.