26. Emily

We stumble upstairs together. I'm kissing him, mindless, needy, stripping off his jacket and throwing it aside, stripping off his shirt and tossing it on the floor. We reach his room—our room—and my black dress comes off. It puddles around my ankles as I step backwards out of it. I'm in black panties, a black bra, and my lips are kiss-bitten, my pulse juddering like crazy as he looks at me like he's barely keeping himself from devouring me whole.

"Tell me you want this," he says, grabbing me roughly and pulling me against him. His skin is so warm against mine and I'm reminded that I'm alive, so fucking alive.

"I want this," I whisper.

He kisses my neck and I whimper as his hand palms my breast over my bra. My nipples peak, stiff as hell and aching for him to tease them. "I don't want you to do this just because you're emotional. You lost someone important."

"I'm doing this because I want you to fuck me." My cheeks turn pink and I'm surprised I had the courage to say that out loud, but it's true. "I've wanted it for weeks."

It's his turn to groan. I trace the divots between his incredible muscles then dig my fingers into his massive arms. I'm trembling, and I feel so small in his arms, and I want him to shut up and keep going.

His mouth peppers kisses along my throat as he unhooks my bra. I feel like I'm being unwrapped. His palms squeeze my breasts, kneading them as he buries his mouth on mine, tongue flipping against my tongue, his taste flooding me. Then he's kissing my throat, my neck. His hand pulls my hair as he reaches down to latch his mouth onto one stiff nipple. He bites and sucks hard, and I moan as I curl into him, wanting more.

His other hand reaches between my legs and strokes over my panties. "I can feel you're already soaked, baby," he whispers. "And your nipples are so fucking hard right now."

"I already told you what I want," I groan, tilting my head back. I think I've lost my mind in my grief, or maybe I'm just beyond giving a shit, but I'm saying what I want now. I'm not holding it back and I'm not worrying about repercussions. I'm here, in this moment, with my husband.

"You want me to fuck you." He slides one hand down the front of my underwear. I gasp as his big, rough fingers spread me apart then tease up and down before slowly plunging inside. Bliss hits me and I bite down onto his shoulder, wanting him to keep going as he pulls back out, rolls his thumb around my clit, and plunges in again.

"I want all of you. Every inch of you." I kiss his shoulder, bite down again, and throw back my head when he licks my nipple and fucks me with his fingers.

It feels like heaven. Pleasure rips into my core as he roughly pushes me back onto the bed. I lean up on my elbows in time to watch him rip my panties off, his expression lost in passion, like he's a completely different man.

"And I've been dreaming about this since the day I made you my wife." He buries my pussy with his mouth, his tongue lapping me up. He sucks my clit and eats me, my back arching, one of his hands reaching up to squeeze my breast as he glides his tongue in and out then kneads around my sensitive bud. "Fuck, you taste good, baby." His fingers plunge inside me, sliding in and out, as he licks my clit. I'm on the edge of orgasm, my brain a melting sludge of bliss.

"Don't stop," I pant, back spasming.

"Let me taste it, baby," he says, and it's the pleading tone in his voice that tips me over the edge. He wants this, he's as desperate for this as I am, and it's his desire that kills me. I come on his mouth with his fingers sliding in and out and it's like a revelation, like I'm finding out what it really feels like to orgasm for the first time in my life. I'm tingling and explosive, and I'm gasping for breath when he puts his fingers in my mouth and makes me suck them clean.

"Good girl," he says, then I'm sitting up and he's standing, and I'm desperately clawing at his pants. Why the fuck are men's slacks so complicated? They come off, and I yank down his briefs, my stomach flipping as he holds his hard cock in one massive fist. Fuck, he's big, he's long and thick, and I grab his ass and pull him to my mouth.

I want him. I want him so fucking bad. I look up as I lick his tip, tasting his precum, and he groans with bliss as I guide him into my mouth. I suck, licking, tongue swirling, moaning as I do it. My legs are spread and I feel so damn exposed and so fucking aroused. I'm dripping wet, and I go deeper, deep enough to gag.

"Fuck, baby," he moans as I pull back, gasping and stroking him with both hands. The man is freaking thick and studded with lovely veins. "You're a goddamn dream. Your mouth, your tongue, your fucking body. Do you have any idea what you do to me? I want to glide my cock into your lovely throat until I come on your pretty tongue, and I want to watch you swallow it, baby."

I moan as I suck him, his hand in my hair. I'm losing my mind, but it doesn't last long, because he pulls me back and shoves me down on the bed.

Then my legs are spread and I'm sitting up on one elbow as he kneels above me, and my heart's going haywire. He leans down over me, and I feel his cock rubbing against my aching, soaking pussy. He kisses me softly.

"Tell me to fuck you," he whispers, biting my lower lip ever so gently. "Come on, baby. Say it. Tell me to fuck you." But before I can speak, he puts one hand around my throat. Not hard, but firm. "Then tell me to come between your legs. Tell me to fucking fill you until you scream. Say you want this."

"Fuck me," I say and pull his hair. He grunts, grinning. "Fuck me hard. Fuck me however you want. Come wherever you want. But fuck me, Simon."

He growls his delight and buries himself inside me.

Bliss and pain stagger down my spine. I laugh and tears fill my eyes as he slowly strokes in and out, letting me get used to his massive size. He talks dirty the whole time, whispering how good my tight pussy feels, telling me how badly he wants to fill me, over and over, to fuck all my wet holes, to come on every inch of my beautiful body. I try writhing my hips, grinding into him, and soon we're fucking properly, fucking like it's the last day of our lives. He licks sweat off my tits, sucks my nipples, strokes into me with a long, rough motion, and I'm taking all of him, stretched and spread and going crazy.

He pins my hands above my head. I'm his, completely his, and I'm so damn close I could scream as he kisses me hard and grinds himself deeper.

"I'll give you whatever you want for as long as you want it, my beautiful wife. I'll fuck you senseless. I'll fuck you raw. I'll make you bury your own fingers in your pussy as you suck my cock and swallow my cum. I'll parade you through endless parties filled with the rich and famous, and all I'll want to do is drag you somewhere dark and quiet and fuck you into submission. You're mine, Emily. Your pussy is mine, your moans are all mine, and I need you now, baby. I need all of you."

It kills me. That finally ends my suffering. I reach back and press my hands against the headboard as an orgasm burns through me, tunneling my vision and leaving my ears ringing with how fucking good it feels. I'm a mess and he doesn't stop, fucking me through it, stiffening as my orgasm reaches its peak, and he fills me with his warmth, fills me to the brim, just like he promised.

Then we're a sticky, gasping mess lying together on the covers. My leg wraps around his hips. He pulls me against him and kisses me, his eyes still roaming my body like he can't help himself. The attention is intoxicating, and his cock is still half-hard and pulsing, like his heart's hammering.

"I just want you to know something," I say, not looking at him, because I'm afraid of how he'll react now that we're not mid-sex. "I meant what I said. And I don't hate you."

I close my eyes as his arms wrap tighter. "I meant what I said too," he whispers, voice husky. "And maybe you should."