Baz runs his fingers down my arms at the same time dragging the tip of his nose along the curve of my shoulder. My pulse thumps in my ears, in my neck, and in my sternum.
"Did my father touch you like I do, Stevie?"
My eyes fly open, the serene moment shattering.
"Baz-"
"Just tell me," he presses.
"No, he didn't." I turn my head to look at him. "It was nothing like it is with you."
"How so?" He nearly salivates for the answer.
How do I say this without sounding completely idiotic? "You . . . share the pleasure. With him, I always had to find my own."
Time seems to stand still as he absorbs this information. It was always one-sided with Benny, from the very beginning. I had to learn what I liked. Learn how to get off. And he enjoyed watching the show.
Baz seizes my face suddenly, slamming his lips down so hard against mine it feels like I was hit by a Mack truck. And he doesn't just kiss me, he claims me.
I moan into his mouth, draping my arm back around his neck. This is what I wanted. What I needed. My husband on our wedding night.
"Tell me you love me." His voice is husky.
I don't hesitate. "I love you. From the moment we met, I loved you."
A small smile breaks through Baz's rough exterior.
"I love you." His hand travels south, cupping my breast then landing on my stomach. "Both of you."
"Show me how much," I plead.
"All night." His fingers walk the rest of the way until they disappear beneath the silk of my seamless panties.
"Oh." I nip at his bottom lip as he massages my clit. Fast, hard, demanding. He wants me wet. And he wants me wet right fucking now.
"Baz," I breathe as he slips one finger, then two, inside me.
"I'm not going to stop until you come." He pumps his wrist, his palm rubbing relentlessly against my already tingling clit. I inhale harder, the familiar pulse between my legs pounding faster and faster. "Say my name, Stevie. Say my name while you let go," Baz rasps in my ear.
I sink my nails into his thighs as I climb higher.
"Baz, oh, fuck." I jerk my hips, the ache becoming unbearable. "Baz, fuck! Baz, fuck!" My body stiffens a second before I nose dive off the edge. I come all over his hand, no longer able to form words. I just shake and choke as the orgasm utterly annihilates me.
"Baz," I whine as I sag against him, my limbs heavier than rocks.
"That's my girl." He kisses my cheek, then brings his hand to his mouth. He sucks my arousal off his middle and ring fingers, moaning as if he just tasted heaven.
"No one else will ever taste that pussy again."
"No one else ever has," I confess. Baz was the first. On the table in his cabin. I'm almost ashamed to admit it. "Lots of firsts belong to you."
"I'm perfectly fine with that."
"I didn't think you'd have a problem with it."
"Nope. Now lean forward so I can make you come again. I want to fuck my wife."
My pussy twinges from his use of the word wife. It's so fucking erotic.
I plant my hands on the mattress and support myself on all fours. I'm soaked. I'm needy. And I'm ready for my husband to make me his.
Peeling my panties away, Baz slides his erection through my slick slit, oiling up before he sinks slowly and deeply inside me. I moan and arch from the outrageous pressure. The fullness, the stretch. He moves fractionally, with his cock planted deep within my pussy. Keeping the compression constant.
He's so fucking thick and long and powerful, I crumble beneath him. My body responds, my mind screams, my soul aches.
My muscles clench as another orgasm begins building momentum. But the sensation is different this time. It bubbles from within and gets trapped in my core.
"God, you're fucking squeezing the shit out of me, baby." Baz grinds his hips, his syllables strained.
"You feel so good. I don't want you to stop." My syllables don't sound much better.
"I won't stop. Not until you come." His fingertips dig into my skin. "You're mine, Stevie. Every part of you. My woman. My wife. My angel of death."
His thrusts start to become erratic, but he never pulls out more than a few inches. He wants me yearning, he wants me desperate, he wants me to know he's the only man who can bring me the purest form of pleasure. And I do know.
I also know this isn't just a fucking, it's a claiming. It's Baz's substantiation. It's our consummation.
Baz forges a path farther into my channel than he ever has before. He pushes past the breaking point, finally penetrating the bubble that's entombed within me. It spontaneously pops, and I clutch the comforter rigidly as I cry out, "I'm yours. God, I'm all fucking yours." My words are barely intelligible, but I know Baz can decipher them.