Mr. Beautiful (Up in the Air #4)(46)

Bianca took a deep breath, as though inhaling it.

I was fully erect, swelled to my full size, the broad head of my c**k stretching toward her parted lips.

She licked those luscious lips and stared like she was starving.

My balls tightened, hard length jerking restlessly, then bobbing with the bounce of its own weight.

She gasped when a drop of pr**cum spilled out the aching head, glancing up at me, as though asking for permission.

I pushed my h*ps forward that last little bit.  "Lick it," I ordered her roughly.

With happy sigh, she lapped at it with her soft pink tongue.  The look of bliss on her face was gratifying, to say the least. She continued to lick it clean with slow, concentrated zeal until I told her to stop.

She pulled back, staring at my cock, another spurt of liquid rewarding her attention.

She bit her lips and looked up at my face, as though asking for permission.

I nodded.  "Go ahead.  Lick it clean again."

She obeyed with long, slow swipes of her tongue.  I clenched my jaw, hands made into fists.

She pulled back, and more pr**cum dribbled over to tempt her.

"There's more," I said roughly.  "Lick it all up.  Every drop."

With a moan, she lapped it up.

"Good, love, now suck on the tip."

We both moaned as she slid her soft lips over my engorged head.  Her eyes looked up at me as she sucked, her tongue stroking the underside of my tip with each hungry pull.

"Take me deeper," I gasped, "I want to feel the back of your throat."

Tipping her head forward, she slowly drew me deeper, her tight throat hugging my tip, her tongue moving busily along the underside of my shaft.  We'd been working on her deep-throating skills.  She'd come far in a short amount of time.

I shoved deeper, and she sucked greedily at every added inch.

I grunted and reached down to grab my base, squeezing hard, trying to hold back my release for a few more torturous, blissful moments in her mouth.

She moaned around my length, taking me still deeper.

With an instinctive jerk, I shoved myself down her throat.

She started to gag, and I pulled back, cursing out an apology.

"You can use your hands now," I told her, and she did, taking me back into her hot little mouth while her hands twisted and squeezed me until I felt my seed rolling up my shaft

I stroked her face and praised her as she milked a quick, powerful orgasm out of me and down her throat.

I pushed her down and knelt between her thighs, lapping at her, sucking at her little piercing, stabbing my tongue against her clit, until she came, screaming.

I climbed on top of her, taking her mouth, sliding my tongue inside with a low moan.  We kissed like we needed it to breathe, tasting ourselves on each other's lips.

We were supposed to leave the island that night.

We said f**k it and stayed another five days.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

MY MARRIAGE

Marriage isn't easy.  It's not meant to be.  It is picking a partnership over a solo venture.  It is choosing to consider another person in every decision you make for the rest of your life, instead of just doing what feels right for you.  It is choosing to be selfless over selfish.

And like all marriages, ours had its challenges.

Neither of us had ever even attempted to have a committed romantic relationship with another person before.  I'd had copious amounts of sex with too many partners to count, but that in no way equipped me for a lifelong partnership with a woman I adored to the point of insanity.

We needed a learning curve, I figured.  We deserved one.

And so we learned together.

There was more good than bad, much more, always, even at the hardest times.  More things I loved than things that I couldn't bear, so many favorite things about her, about our life together that I couldn't pick even a dozen that were definitively ranked into the top spots of my hit parade.

I loved waking up next to her, pulling her na**d body close, feeling it warm in sleep, then thrum awake in awareness as I touched her.  And I loved touching her, in any way at all—sexually, chastely.

Possessively.

Covetously, tenderly, wonderingly.

Reverently.

I loved the way she looked at me.  She devoured me with those gorgeous eyes, swallowing me whole, eating me alive, her loving soul peeking out at me with no filter.

The way she studied me like she was memorizing my movements.  Watching me put on a suit was like Bianca- p**n .  With each piece I put on, she got more worked up.  It was a wonder I ever left the house dressed.

She was completely taken with my looks, and I couldn't help but enjoy that.

"You have a perfectly even skin tone.  I've never seen anything like it," she said one day, as I got ready to go in to work for a meeting.  Her tone was thick with lust, her eyes on my na**d torso just before I shrugged into a shirt.  That distracted me.  Her preoccupation with my flesh, her lusting for my person, always seemed to have that effect.

I was two hours late for that meeting.

I was late for a lot of meetings.

I loved dominating her sexually, craved it, needed it on a steady daily basis, even while I happily surrendered to her the total ownership of my soul.

I had so many things I loved, things I would not, could not, do without.