Sold to the Hitman(44)
He wants it, too.
Uncertain but totally determined, I lean forward, close my eyes, and take his member in both my hands as I softly lick his crown. When I look up, Andrei is still watching me with his lips parted, breathing shallowly as though almost holding his breath, waiting for me to go on.
So I do.
Opening my mouth as wide as I can, I take as much of his massive shaft between my lips as possible, stretching my cheeks and letting my tongue flick along the underside of his member. I begin to suck him, bobbing slowly up and down on his shaft, groaning into the sensation of having yet another one of my orifices filled with my husband’s glorious manhood. I am so wet now, my body clearly hungry to taste Andrei’s seed, to swallow him down and feel him shudder with pleasure.
He cries out as I pump his shaft with both hands while my mouth sucks him in as deeply as I can manage, moving up and down with a quickening rhythm. I am surprised at how good I am at this, especially considering the fact that a month ago I would have gone pale with offense at the mere mention of this sex act. I can hardly believe how impetuous I’m being right now. How dirty I am. But… though I should be ashamed to admit it, I love this feeling.
I love knowing that I can bring such bliss to my handsome, powerful husband, causing such a strong and imposing man to tremble with the magic of my touch.
“Ohhh, malyshka, I’m almost there,” Andrei moans. His hand starts to press more urgently at the back of my head, yanking my braid slightly in the process. This causes a minimal shock of pain which, instead of deterring me, only adds to my fervor. I am discovering that sometimes pain exists on a plane very, very near to pleasure.
I groan as my mouth sucks his shaft harder and faster, relaxing my throat to allow the head of his member to brush against the back of my throat. Even though my eyes water and I start to feel like I might gag, I refuse to relent — not when my husband is moaning and rocking into me with such authentic bliss. I can’t stop now. I need to taste his seed on my tongue…
And with that, Andrei cries out and presses both hands against the back of my head, forcing me down on his shaft, hard. Just as I start to choke, I feel a hot, bitter spurt of come spill down my throat and I am forced to swallow it. He thrusts into my mouth a few times, his hands clawing at my hair, stroking the side of my face while he calls my name.
“Cassie! Oh, printsessa!”
When he finally releases me I stand up and look at him with rosy cheeks, hoping he will tell me how good I was, how well I performed.
He kisses me on the forehead and caresses my face fondly, peering into my eyes with genuine surprise and awe. “You are… a natural.”
“I did good?”
Andrei nods and pulls me in for a kiss, and I wonder if he can taste himself in my mouth.
“I apologize for being a little rough toward the end. I lost control.”
“I — I don’t mind,” I tell him, and it isn’t a lie. Not in the least. I’m finding that I rather like being pushed to the limits. It makes me feel alive.
“Well, I hope you’ll let me return the favor,” Andrei says, reaching down between my legs to rub my slit. I gasp and collapse into his touch, letting him stroke me in his arms, bringing me to climax again and again, while the hot water slowly ran out.
* * *
Later that day, Andrei surprises me yet again, this time with tickets to a ballet.
We have spent the day in bed, exploring each other’s bodies, drifting in and out of pleasurable, delicious sleep. We only took a break to eat a late brunch of pancakes and bacon, supplemented by homemade mimosas, which we brought back to bed with us. It’s been another glorious day in my newfound marital paradise.
And now we are going to a ballet! I can hardly contain my excitement as we dress for the evening, both of us trying to look sharp and sophisticated for the kind of high-class crowd that attends such performances. He dresses in a navy blue suit and dark red tie, his black hair artfully tousled. I wear a sapphire-blue, satin dress that falls to my mid-calves. It has an embellished Peter Pan collar and pearly trim. I pair it with sparkling white tights and scarlet kitten heels, then twist my hair back into a fairly elaborate French braid.
Daring to be brave, I put on a small amount of mascara I picked out on a whim at a department store last week with Andrei, and find that I actually like the way it looks. My eyelashes are naturally quite thick, but since I am blonde, the tips of my lashes are nearly invisible unless you look closely. But with the pitch-black mascara, the entire length of my lashes is visible, and it gives me a glamorous, dramatic look befitting the ballet.
We head out to the show, find our seats, and when the curtain lifts, I immediately feel grateful that my mascara is waterproof. I am utterly, completely amazed by the beauty of the show. The costumes, the lighting, the orchestral music, the elegant and graceful movements of the dancers — all of it is entrancing and bewitching in a way I’ve never experienced.