Captive Bride - Alta Hensley Page 0,46
away.
“I want to please you,” I say against the kiss. “I want to please you in all ways.”
I lower my hand to the button of his pants and boldly unfasten. I wait for him to stop me or tell me I’m doing it wrong, but he only deepens the kiss. When the pants are loose, I lower my hand and touch his hardness. I take hold of it and feel the weight against my palm. I’d never been so daring before nor sinful—but is it a sin if he’s my husband?
I fight against the awkwardness of his clothing and the restriction. As if reading my mind, he lifts up enough so that I can lower everything down, freeing his sex. I glance down, but then feel my face heat.
“This isn’t wrong,” he rasps out.
I know he’s right, and I fight the feelings of sin threatening to suffocate me. Instead, I lower my mouth and kiss the tip of his penis. Unsure, I look up at him. “Is this all right?”
He closes his eyes and leans back. “More than all right.”
Feeling a sense of accomplishment that I have brought a smile to his face. I kiss a trail from the head all the way to the base and then lick my way up. The salty musk sends a shiver down my spine. My own sex pulsates in need for him to enter me. I want him again. I want to feel that level of closeness and connection again.
On exhale, he says, “Put me in your mouth. Suck me up and down.”
His command forms moisture between my legs, but I do exactly as he asks. Opening my mouth wide, I crawl up on my knees to get a better angle so that I can take all of him.
His hand grips my hair, and he guides my head down and then tugs me back up. We repeat this action several times with his moans growing in intensity with each time. I drag my tongue along his flesh and love the power that I have. I’m giving him pleasure and I know it. I love it. I love the control.
I realize I can tighten my lips and he groans. I can go deeper into the back of my throat and his hips buck. His actions are the result of mine. I’m finally feeling like a wife who can please my husband.
“Ember,” I hear Papa Rich call from the tunnel.
He doesn’t usually give warning, but thank goodness he is. I jump up and when I see that Christopher isn’t moving in the slightest to pull his pants back on, I panic. He’s going to push Papa’s buttons. I can see it in his eyes.
“Please,” I beg, tugging his pants up the best I can.
Christopher sighs, rolls his eyes, but pulls up his pants right as Papa Rich enters from the tunnel.
He stops and looks at me, then Christopher with that suspicious eye I know of his. “Christopher, it’s nice to see you look as if you’re getting comfortable in your new home.”
Christopher smirks and remains leaned back on the mattress. “Very.”
Papa Rich looks at me and I know my face must be several shades of red. “And are the two of you getting along good?”
“Extremely,” Christopher says with a twinkle in his eye.
I see Papa’s jaw tighten and his eyes narrow.
I hold my breath. I don’t want Papa to think we’re sinners and feel we have to pay penance for our actions. Christopher doesn’t seem concerned at all. His hardness is still very visible beneath his pants, and I wonder if tossing a blanket over him will be too obvious.
“I’m running into town,” he says to me as he clears his throat. “I saw your usual grocery list on the fridge. Is there anything else you need?”
“Yes, actually.” I say softly. “Is it possible to pick up a razor for Christopher? In case he wants to shave his beard.”
I figure that Christopher should have the option, and I know that him borrowing anything from Papa was out of the question and even angered him. At least this way, he will have something of his own.
Papa Rich nods. “Anything else?” He actually looks at Christopher and waits for him to answer.
“Yeah. How about a bottle of Jack?” Christopher says with a cocky grin.
Papa surprises me when he says, “I don’t see why not. I’ll add it to the list.”
I see the cocky look on Christopher’s face disappear and something unfamiliar takes its place. He’s angry. He