Those days are long gone, and I can’t help feeling an odd peacefulness about it. Maybe marriage really is a sacrament. Maybe it really is blessed by God, and once you’ve entered into it, you get to feel this thing I’m feeling.
Whatever it is that I’m feeling. I’m not entirely sure.
I do know it’s sexy, though. I want his flesh in my flesh, so we become one flesh, and I need it right fucking now.
“Come on,” I beg.
He reaches over to the nightstand, where someone—I presume him, because God I fucking hope it wasn’t Tino, and Nunzio would be even worse—has stashed a tub of Boy Butter. Usually I like this part over and done with fast, so I can get that dick in me, but Luca does everything with a purpose. I’m starting to find that out about him. He massages fingerfuls of the stuff onto my asshole, then inside, his clever fingers fucking me just like his tongue was a minute ago.
I’m lost. The only thing I can do is lie here and take it. Lie here and let this panther prowl around my nether regions. After a few seconds, I’m moving with him, trying to get his hand up in me so he can hit my buttons, but he sees exactly what I’m doing. He gives a knowing smile.
“Tonight, angel, you only have the pleasure I choose to give you,” he says. “I’m your husband, and you’re going to honor me. Your focus will be on me. You understand?”
I nod, but it’s like I’m in a dream. I’ve never felt this way before with any other guy.
Once. Once I felt like this. When I was five years younger and choking on the thick cock of a guy I’d picked up at a club and almost took a bullet for.
“I only want to make you happy,” I tell him, my words dripping out like honey, like my own pre-cum. It’s true. I want to blast, but I want Luca to have his pleasure more than I want my own.
“Are you ready for me?” he asks. He’s put the lube aside and he’s leaning over me, his blue eyes pinning me to the bed like I’m a butterfly with a fucking spike through my chest.
“I’m ready,” I whisper. He looks down to line up his dick, and his hair falls forward, brushes against my lips, moves gently when I breathe out. I feel hot flesh against my hole, and then he’s pushing in, slow like molasses.
Fuck, I say, or mouth, or maybe just think. He lifts his head, and his eyes find mine. He keeps my gaze as he pushes in, his head opening me up, breaching those barricades, burrowing into me. He’s big. I knew he was big, because I’ve had that dick in me before, and I’ve seen it flaccid and I’ve seen it erect, but knowing he’s big is another thing entirely from feeling it.
His cockhead pops all the way in and my hole clamps around it, sucking him in further, encouraging his dick deeper in. I want him so deep inside me that he’s part of me from now on. “Please,” I say, staring into his face, even though I don’t really know what I’m asking for, except for more of him inside me.
But it’s not just about his cock. Not this time.
Even though his cock is absolutely amazing.
I shift my hips, trying to get more of it without seeming like I’m trying, but he moves with me, and I end up with less dick rather than more. He shakes his head, smirking at my frustration. “What did I say, angel?”
“Tonight I focus on you.” I flutter my lashes as I say it; it’s something that usually gets me my own way.
“That’s right.”
“Then take your pleasure,” I tell him. “However you want it.” My words have the desired effect. He might pretend to have complete mastery of himself, but his clenching jaw and the thin thread of sweat that slides out from the hair at his temple shows me that he’s on edge. He’s seconds away from breaking, from just ramming home and fucking me till kingdom come.
I hold my breath, studying his face, and wait for the inevitable.
It doesn’t come. Oh, he begins to slide in, just not in one driving thrust.
It’s fucking torture. I’ve never felt every goddamn ridge and vein on a cock going into my ass before, and yet here we are. I guess I’ve never had a bare cock in me before, either. Maybe that’s what makes the difference.
He’s far enough in that he can lean on his elbow now, his face close, his lips a whisper away from my lips. “You’re a glutton,” he tells me. “You need to learn restraint.”
A sob wells up in me and I clutch at his arm, at the finch tattoo standing on the scar I gave him with my shitty sewing skills. “Is that what you’re teaching me?” I ask, when I can ask something.
“I’m almost in, angel. You like my cock?”
“Fuck.” It’s all I can say. He’s splitting me open but I want more. I want all of him in all of me. Doesn’t he see how perfectly we fit together?
Am I the only one having an epiphany right now?
I can’t be. I look into his eyes and I can see the same wonder that I feel, just hidden away a little better under his dominant act. Not that it’s an act. I can see that need he has: to be respected, feared.
Loved.
“Fuck,” I say again, surprised, and he looks wary then, like I’ve seen too much.
“Yeah,” he says, like he’s answering a question. His thick shaft slides right up into me, my ass opening up in welcome, and he hits home before I can blink.
“You’re really fucking big,” I whisper, while he takes a
