Major Marquez.
Thunder Cock.
Master.
Husband.
His manly scent in the warm cocoon of their bed filled her with unexpected need. It didn’t matter if he’d made love to her ten minutes or ten hours ago. Sometimes all it took was a look. A touch, or the way he smelled first thing in the morning, and she was throbbing with desire.
Asleep and in profile he made her heart flutter. Handsome didn’t do justice to the man. The shadow from his overnight beard looked spine tingling yummy. She enjoyed morning kisses that scraped her skin, especially when his raspy stubble abraded the soft skin of her inner thighs with a good lovely lick.
Unconsciously following his respirations as his manly chest rose and fell, she smirked and thought it was a good thing both hands were under her chin or she’d be tempted to run her fingers through the hair covering his torso. Her lip quirked with disappointment when gazing at the line of hair, and she stalled because the bedclothes blocked her prize from view.
That was okay though. Her lusty imagination was perfectly capable of filling in the blanks. She imagined his sturdy thighs and the mesmerizing muscled V of his lower abdomen and bit back a moan.
When they first got together he saddled with stiffness in his hips and back from the old injuries. Now, under her loving ministrations she’d realigned his center and restored almost all of the flexibility he’d lost. An unexpected benefit was what he could do with his hips when they made love.
It always turned her to jelly when he put his hands in the crook of her knees, pushed them up and back holding her open for him to roll his hips and fuck her in a way that stole her breath and sanity.
The man could move and good lord, what he did with those hips.
Meghan closed her eyes and shuddered when her pussy pulsed wildly. She didn’t know how to handle the constant hungry demands of her needy body. He encouraged her of course. She had a husband who gloried in both her greedy desires and enthusiasm for satisfying his carnal demands.
And usually, after indulging in slow sexy loving, it never seemed to fail that they followed up with an animalistic coupling. At least that’s what her body hoped for this morning.
He moved and his chest rose on a deep inhale. She admired his sleeping form one last time before he woke up. Meghan bit her lip when her body pulsed again. Every nerve ending and muscle in her body responded and readied for the fierce fucking she knew was coming.
She held perfectly still, curled up at his side. And waited.
Eventually her patience was rewarded when his head swung on the pillow and he looked at her. A raunchy scene was playing out in her imagination. His eyes narrowed. Was he reading her thoughts?
His hand swept the covers aside and revealed his perfect cock, lying half rigid on his abdomen.
Invitation extended, Meghan moved into action. He’d given her what she needed last night. Now, in the first light of dawn, she’d answer his desires.
Rising gracefully onto her knees, she gathered her mass of auburn curls and tossed the whole mess over her shoulders. Hands on her knees, she smiled softly and with her eyes down asked, “Master. May I tend to you?” She kept her tone playful but with enough respect to show she was also as serious as a heart attack. God. She really liked this role playing stuff.
His husky morning voice growled, “As you wish.”
Permission given, she sprang into action. With an impressive vault off the bed that she scored a solid nine, Meghan sped into the en suite, gathering things as she went.
A familiar task, she had the routine down to a science. From a small Spanish Colonial corner table she grabbed a stoneware pitcher from its bowl. A happy smile curved her mouth.
There was a veritable museum of antiques and vintage décor throughout the villa but in the renovated master suite, not so much. Some furniture sure, but objects and decorative touches were absent. Alex wasn’t the tzotchke type so the distinctive carved table with the functional looking vintage pottery struck her as out-of-place.
Eventually she asked about the deep, wide bowl and heavy handled pitcher. His explanation was eye-opening. The bowl, pitcher and table were part of the room, placed there by Cristián’s grandparents. He said his dad told him that no matter what modernizing he did to the room, the table and bowl had to stay. It was Abuelita’s wish that it always remained in the master bedroom. She said if you had to ask why, you’d never know.
It took her a while, but after a lot of consideration Meghan was sure she’d decoded the relevance and importance of the antique display. As she hurried into the bathroom and turned on the tap, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped. A sly smile played around her lips. How many Marquez brides had filled this pitcher with water? Had they all been naked and filled with passion for the husband waiting nearby? When she thought of washing Alex’s body and connected the loving ritual to Abuelita’s cheeky riddle, she felt part of the female lineage.
The pitcher filled with hot water, she turned off the tap and gave her reflection a quick visual once over. Wearing a sleep tousled look, she made the snap decision not to bother with her hair. Alex liked what he termed her love-fucked look. Plus, why bother? He was going to be fisting her curls into a lovely mess anyway.
A small shadow on her collarbone made her lean closer for a better look in the mirror. The sly smile turned to a naughty grin. He bit her. Her husband knew how fond she was of being mauled and took great pains not to mark her up. Evidence of a loss of control, no matter how small or brief, made her fiercely pleased.
Gently touching her breasts, she groaned slightly. They were crazy sensitive and ached like crazy when Alex was around. She stared at them in the mirror and marveled at the noticeable changes from her pregnancy. Blessed with a bodacious set of ta-tas to begin with, courtesy of the bosomy side of her mother’s family tree, she was shocked by how heavy and full they were now.
And man, did her husband ever like this particular side effect to being pregnant. He could spend hours worshipping her boobs and made an art of seducing her nipples. The man had a wicked mouth and an oral fixation. Yay.
She studied her belly, unable to prevent the inevitable eye roll. Since there was no sense in whitewashing the obvious curve-a-luscious size of her body, it wouldn’t be a surprise to find a well-fed middle staring back at her. Good genes, luck and a long-time adherence to yoga had served her well though. She wondered how long before the twins bumped her tummy out.
Truthfully, she couldn’t wait.
Turning to the side, she contorted to get a good look at the tattoo on her ass. Seeing the griffin from the Marquez crest that effectively declared her the property of one Alex Marquez always made her smile.
“Not bad,” she snickered to her reflection. With one last quick visual she inspected the perfectly groomed cluster of auburn curls adorning what Alex teased was her mound of Irish womanhood. He liked a pretty little landing strip and as far as she was concerned, he got whatever he wanted. If a shamrock shape turned him on, she’d do it in a heartbeat.
From a basket overflowing with small bottles of essential oils she chose a blend whose scent evoked the essence of the hulking man sprawled in their bed. A warm note of vanilla plus fresh air mixed with the spiciness of clove and a hint of amber. She called the small vial Dominar in a cheeky nod to the snarky nickname her husband found so amusing.
Adding a few drops to the big pitcher, she tucked a few hand towels under her arm, tossed a plush washcloth into the warm water and hefted the heavy pitcher using both hands. Moving quietly from the en suite back into the bedroom, she placed the pitcher in the bowl along with the other things and looked toward the bed.
Dawn was just breaking and the bedroom was still cast mostly in shadows but she had an easy time making him out when her eyes moved to the bed. He’d thrown the covers back and kicked everything to the bottom of the four-poster. He was in the middle of the mattress, legs in a sexy man-spread and his strong hand slowly stroking his rig
id cock.
She inhaled sharply and bit her bottom lip as a need-filled groan tore from her throat. The temptation to run across the room and impale on his enthralling staff was strong.
But no. That wasn’t how this was going to go. She had a plan worked out in her mind. One that started with the equipment lugged to the bed stand.
The smoldering look he gave her made Meghan quiver. He glanced at the things she brought and leered when his eyes moved back to hers.
Something slithered along her spine, making her tremble with a heady blend of lust and butterflies. Suddenly questioning her ability to satisfy her man’s deep carnal desires, all those qualms vanished when he spoke.
In a voice tight with need he chuckled at her unease. “No thinking, slave.”
Slave? Oh shit. That’s right. She started this by calling him master. Meghan swallowed with difficulty remembering what her words unleashed. At the same time a fierce throb of arousal thumped in her core. Her gaze focused on the carpet as she struggled to remain composed.
“Look at me,” he demanded in a gruff voice. Her eyes instantly swung to his. Instead of power staring her in the face she found soft laughter.
“Get my jeans. Bring me what you find in the left front pocket.”
An odd request but she’d take it considering it’d give her a minute or two to snap out of it.
Locating his jeans, she held them up and slid her hand into the proper pocket. Pulling out what she found, her breath caught in her throat.
Oh my. The nipple clamps. She all but skipped with glee on her way back to the bed where she found Alex sitting on the side, one hand still stroking.
Stepping right up to him, she held out her hand and snickered. “Is this what you wanted?”
He arched a brow and she snickered again, this time louder. With snarky, playful panache, she pursed her lips, threw in a cheeky curtsey for shits and grins, and re-framed her question.
“Is this what you wanted…master?”
He laughed and reached behind to swat her ass. “Well done, slave. Now bring your master those beautiful tits. I want to hear the little bells pinching your nipples tinkle as you wash your husband.”
He took one of the sexy clamps from her hand. “Offer it to me, slave.”
She cupped one heavy breast and lifted, as he demanded, offering the peaked nipple for his pleasure.
He licked the aching nub and chuckled against her breast when she moaned. Suckling hard, he drew it into his mouth then released with a pop that made her flesh bounce.
Opening the clamp, he attached it to her nipple and tightened the knob until it pinched. He fingered the strands of tiny silver bells and grunted with satisfaction as they tingled. The sweet kiss he dropped on the vulnerable tip of her nipple made Meghan shiver.
After the same procedure on the other breast he leaned back and inspected his handiwork. Fingering the silver chains filled the air with gentle chimes and the sounds of her short panting breaths.
She jerked and let out a husky gasp when a sturdy hand shoved between her thighs and a finger pushed inside her. Before she could react he withdrew his hand and licked his finger.
“Just checking,” he said with a devilish smirk.
She slapped her hands to her waist, a defiant gesture that made her boobs swing and the bells twinkle.
“The water is cooling, master,” she said with flippant insubordination hanging off every syllable. “Please lie back.”
Ignoring the twinkling bells and the sexy bite of the clamps was going to be a challenge but she was determined.
Quickly laying out her equipment, she dunked the washcloth into the hot water and wrung it out, then began carefully wiping her husband’s big body starting at his feet. Working her way up his legs she ignored her swinging breasts, the twinkling bells and Alex’s beefy hand languidly handling his manhood.
Paying extra attention to his studly thighs, she washed him thoroughly while keeping an eye on his thick cock, taking extra pains not to go near it.
Each time she dunked the washcloth, he’d fondle her tits and adjust the bite of the nipple clamps.
Being a gentleman, her wicked master snickered and held his hard cock out of the way as she washed his abdomen, at one point angling the head to a swinging nipple as she bent over him. The twinkling each time his dick tapped her breast made her groan.
She tended to his torso, his arms, and finally his neck.
Dunking the cloth, she was about to tell him to roll over when he growled, “Slave! You forgot something.”
She answered quickly. “I was going to wash your back…”
“No,” he interrupted with a sharp bark. “Clean me, slave and then prepare for your throat to be well used.”
Her heart started to flutter with excitement. This is what she wanted. Being the means of his pleasure was a desire that refused definition.
Putting her hand on his forehead she leaned over her husband’s face and murmured. “Relax, master. Close your eyes and let your slave pleasure you.”
His soft, husky grunt made her pussy quiver with excitement.
Applying the warm cloth with slow movements, she started with his balls. It was her great pleasure to spend extra time on the lovely twin spheres because she believed they didn’t get enough attention.
From the sounds her hunky husband made as she washed him, Meghan assumed he felt the same.
Next she made a procedure of attending to the section of super sensitive flesh in the crease joining leg to torso. She washed both sides with delight because she couldn’t wait for a chance to drive him wild by licking him in the same susceptible spot.
Taking her time refreshing the cloth with the scented water, she ogled his erection and licked her lips in anticipation.
She stopped questioning the skin-prickling pleasure she got from sucking him. Her body responded with fierce need any time she took him in her mouth. And the sensation of being face fucked by her man’s big cock always turned her to a quivering mess. Unable to explain the ecstasy she experienced, it was easier to simply surrender to the way it made her feel.
He stretched his arms up and put his hands behind his head offering just enough leverage for him to have a front row seat as she turned her attention and senses to her master’s glorious cock.
Wrapping the warm wet cloth around his turgid length, she smiled when his cock pulsed and a droplet of precum moistened the tip.
“I love your cock, master.”
She wrapped her hands on top of the washcloth and applied firm pressure. He groaned and jerked his hips.
“Again,” he demanded.
She unwrapped the cloth and hurriedly dunked it into the very warm water. This time only wringing it halfway. Slowly and precisely wrapping it around his cock, just below the plump head, she used both hands this time to grip him firmly and squeeze. Warm water dripped from the cloth onto his balls, and slid into the crack of his ass.
Exactly as she expected, Alex shuddered and grunted his pleasure.
She bent over, thrilled at the sound of the twinkling bells, and lightly licked the fat tip of his cock, swiping away the tasty precum.
Then she got serious about washing him and doing it in the most seductive and erotic way possible.
One of his legs trembled. Knowing she made that happen was incredibly hot.
When she ran out of ways to tease him with the water and cloth, she wrung it out for the final time and hung it from the rim of the pitcher.
Alex was sitting up. As she caught the burning desire in his gaze Meghan trembled.
“What would please you, master?”
She wasn’t joking. This time when she used the evocative title and asked a question, the words came from a place deep inside her that belonged entirely to this man.
“On your knees, slave. Open your fuck goddess mouth and suck me.”
The bells twinkled when she sank onto her knees and looked up expectantly as he moved into position. She loved the view from her knees and
she wasn’t just referring to his dick.
Finding his hairy chest to be sexy as fuck she enjoyed the way the soft thatch on his chest narrowed and formed a direct path to the cluster of curls at the base of his cock. It might be a tired cliché but her husband’s sexy body—scars and all—were a goddamn wonderland.
Before getting down to business she took advantage of being face-to-face with the evidence of the horrific injuries that almost took his life. As she always did, Meghan took a moment to press her lips with loving tenderness on a particularly nasty looking section of scarred flesh.
His hand touched the top of her head and caressed down a length of hair. Her kiss was reverential. So was his caress.
And then shit got real.
Fisting her hair in a messy tangle, he grabbed his cock and brought it to her lips.
“Tongue,” he grunted.
She opened her mouth and obeyed. Tapping the head of his cock against her tongue she felt her mouth tingle and fill with saliva.
“Suck me, slave. Fuck my cock with your sexy mouth.”
He hadn’t said no hands so she reached for him and took over as his hands moved into her hair and he canted his hips for maximum pleasure.
With both hands holding his thick magnificence, she started by placing a moan and a soft smacking kiss on the tip of his cock. Flicking her tongue against the smooth knob, she lashed the yummy head over and over and took extra delight in teasing the bundles of nerves on the underside until the hand in her hair turned demanding.
No way was she letting him come that easily. Hell. They hadn’t even gotten to her favorite part yet.
Backing away, she studied his manly cock as her hands twisted and stroked his warm flesh. Her pussy’s demanding throb reminded Meghan that this beautiful staff, soft skin covering a hardness that stole her breath, was going to be inside her. She fondled his balls and stroked at the same time imagining the entire length of him stretching her desperate pussy.
She melted. A trickle of wet dripped down her thigh. Driven by passions stronger than her will, she had no choice but to worship his flesh and make love to him with her hungry mouth.
Unforgettable (Family Justice Book 5) Page 29