At Her Husband's Command(7)

By: Lily Harlem



“I can’t help it. I do.” Her nipples were tight, and a pulse beat between her legs.

Sliding his hand down her throat, to her chest, he didn’t take his gaze from hers. “Would you like to be my virgin again?”

“Yes, Sir. Very much, Sir.” Of course it would be thrilling. But it was equally impossible.

“Then you can be.” Through her top he tugged at her nipple. Not gently, quite rough, the way she liked it.

Melody held in a moan and locked her knees. “Sir.”

“Those months of frustration,” he said, “waiting for our wedding day, do you remember?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The amount of times I had to give myself relief, thinking of you, always you as I worked my cock with my hand.”

“You did that?”

“Of course, how else do you think I survived?” He slid his hand lower still, over her belly and the waistband of her skirt. He gripped the material and rucked it upwards.

The air breezed against her bare thighs, and then over her pussy.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed.





Chapter Three





“Yes, Sir.” Melody spread her legs and held onto Ivor’s shoulder. What was his plan? They had four guests sitting in the next room, waiting for them. Surely he wasn’t going to…

“You were my sweet, young, naïve little virgin and touching you for the first time nearly made me come straight away,” he said, his breath hot and his voice low.

“You made me come,” she whispered. “I didn’t think I would, that first time, but I did.”

“Spectacularly.” He smiled and slipped his finger through her pussy lips and touched her clit.

“Mmm…” She groaned. It didn’t matter to her that they had guests waiting. It was Ivor’s decision; if he wanted to finger her then he could. He was in charge.

“This sweet little cunt,” he said, “all mine, only mine.”

“Yes. Oh, please…”

“Please what?”

“Make me come.” She gripped the material of his shirt and angled her pelvis toward him.

A smile tugged at his lips and he increased the pressure on her clit, setting up a fast little circular motion.

She fluttered her eyelids shut. He was so damn good at generating pressure that erupted in bliss throughout her body.

“Ah, yeah, baby, that’s it, feel the tension building, the need for release, the need for a big hard cock to make you come over and over again. Imagine you’ve never had cock in your pussy. But it’s here now, about to plunge into your virginal depths, stretching you, breaking its way into the very core of you.”

“Yes, you, just you, Sir.” She kept her eyes closed and remembered their wedding night—a luxurious hotel room in London, black carpet so deep her toes nearly disappeared into it, red silky sheets that were cool and smooth on her skin—her new husband naked, his erection thick and dark, and a look of lust and love on his face.

She recalled his touch, the first man to touch her there—his mouth on her breasts, between her legs, his cock filling her then bringing her to orgasm with the expert roll of his body in and over hers.

Panting now, she clenched her internal muscles. Soon an orgasm was going to erupt within her. While club members sat hungry and waiting for their dinner, she was going to come in the kitchen. She’d dampen her master’s hand, grind against him, try to hold in her cries of release.

He worked her harder. The tension was about to spill.

She held her breath. Her pulse thudded in her ears.

“Hold that thought,” he said, stepping away and allowing her skirt to float down to cover her pussy and thighs.

“Ivor…” she gasped, her arms flailing for him. She opened her eyes. “I was just about to… Sir… I…”

“I know.” He bit on his bottom lip. “You were just about to orgasm.”

“Yes, but…?” She was frantic and furious. What was the point in that? What was he doing?

He raised his fingers to his nose and inhaled. “I want…” he said, “for us to remember the sexual frustration we had when you were a virgin and I was waiting for us to be married before I touched you.”

“You want that again? But why?” It had been so hard.

“Yes, just for one night.” He shrugged, then walked to the sink and ran the tap. He washed his hands. “Maybe I’m just being melancholy, thinking about us when we were young and everything was new.”

“New.” Melody pushed her hands through her hair. Her brow was a little damp. Her pussy was hot, her heart rate still clattering along at a fast rate.

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