Tentative fingers touched the hair on his legs and then moved to his belly. The hardness of him jutting upwards, throbbing, and waiting for her touch. When her fingers made contact, Riley exhaled into her neck. “Yes, I like that,” he told her as her fingers encircled his manhood. “Stroke me, Amanda. Love me with your hand,” he said.
As her grip tightened, his fingers roamed her body, touching her legs, her thighs, massaging her breasts. Amanda wasn’t prepared when his mouth closed over her nipple and his finger rubbed the nub of flesh in her womanhood. “Whoa...wow, that feels so good,” she said. Opening her legs wider to give him more access; her hand stroked him faster. Her body turned slightly so her other hand could grip the sack of flesh underneath. Riley nearly came off the rug.
“Damn, do that again, Amanda,” he whispered huskily.
His wife did as she was told; she massaged the nodules inside of the loose skin, enjoying the rough textured of the sack as his breath rasped, his hips moving faster along with her hand. It was feeling entirely too good, and if she didn’t stop, the wedding night was about to be over.
He removed her hand and lowered her back to the rug. Riley moved over her, taking his time to run his tongue over her nipples while his fingers separated the damp curls between her legs. As his mouth devoured each breast, his fingers were preparing her for more. She was so tight; he had to loosen her up a bit or his entry would be too much for her.
He rolled over to his back. “Come here, baby, put it right here,” he said as he motioned for her to climb on top of him and straddle his face. Amanda could feel the roughness of his tongue as it rolled across her delicate flesh. It felt so good. Riley made her feel so wonderful. Her hips began to move, and she felt his beard on her inner thighs. His right hand massaged her breast, squeezing the nipple between his fingers.
“Riley, that feels so fantastic,” she said. Amanda leaned forward, bracing her hands on the floor as she rode his face to the point beyond reason.
“Not yet. I don’t want you to finish yet,” he said with a mouthful of her still on his face.
He didn’t want to hurt her too much on her first time, but he was beyond the point of ready. “On your back, baby, open wide and let me see you,” he said as he added lube to his fingers.
“Damn, you are magnificent,” he said, his fingers applying the lube to her and to himself. “Look at me, Amanda,” he demanded. Her eyes, heavy with passion, gazed at his face as she saw him use his hands to guide himself. He pushed forward, making his first attempt to enter her.
“Wait, it hurts,” she winced.
“It will until we can get some friction going,” he said. “Look at me, Amanda,” he demanded of her.
Without warning, he thrust forward hard, ripping through the barrier, shredding the hymen. “Owwww,” she cried. Her face contorted in pain. “I don’t like this. It hurts.” She pushed at his chest. “Stop. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Riley lowered his head and kissed her. “The pain will go away, you have to relax,” he whispered in her ear. It had been nearly 20 years since he was with a woman with no experience, but he had a lifetime to teach her more. Tonight, he wanted her to understand that he was an aggressive lover. He wanted her to be that way with him as well.
“I am going to move and I want you to try to match what I am doing,” he whispered, “Don’t think; just feel.” He could feel her. She was so tight around him. Squeezing him. Loving him. Pulling him into her. He was getting off on it.
Riley started with short even strokes, allowing her body to adjust to him. Somewhere in the middle of his idea to take it slow, Amanda was loving the sensations of her husband inside of her. The more he moved and deeper he went, the more she found herself being sucked in to the pleasures he was giving her. It felt so wondrous.
“Riley...” she mumbled. He pulled back his hips then slammed into her. He started panting like a dog. He slammed into her again.
And again.
And again.
Deeper each time until she could not believe she could take any more. He asked her as he planted small kisses on her neck and jawline, “Do you like what I am doing, Amanda?”
“Yes,” she mumbled, biting her bottom lip.
His lowered his chest so the hairs could be felt against her breast. In her ear, he asked, “What’s my name, baby?”
“Riley...” she whispered as he thrust his hips forward, lifting her butt from the floor.
“Say my name, baby,” he said again as his hips thrust forward, going so deep it felt like it was coming out of her pooper. She was no punk. Amanda’s hands went into his hair, tugging at it to bring his face to hers as she wrapped her legs around his hips. She thrust hers upwards, rolling her abs.
Amanda had made up her mind that she was not going to be the first to tap out. It hurt, it felt good, and he was handling her with skill. Too much skill. Riley Bishop had a lot of practice. It was a disadvantage for her, but she had a secret weapon. She had two and a half months of learning what he liked, even though he never actually said it.
Riley began to making cooing sounds, “What’s my name, Riley?” she asked as she slapped him on the ass. “Say my damned name, Riley!” She rolled her hips up against his, pulling him in, clenching her vaginal walls, milking him.
“Say my name!” She yelled at him. His eyes were wide at her transformation. She did say she was a quick study especially if she liked what she was learning.
“Uh....Uh....Uhh....Amandaaaaa....” She knew he was ready to explode. She rolled him over to his back. It hurt like hell, but she was on top. As she had ridden his face, she was doing the same thing to his body.
“Whose is this, Riley?” she asked as she rode him like bringing a horse to a canter.
She asked again, “Whose is it, Riley?”
His eyes had rolled up into his head. He was twitching as he gripped her hips and began to buck furiously against her. “It’s yours. I’m yours. I’m yours, Amanda. No one’s but yours.” His movements were a turn-on to her as she increased her pace to find her release.
She cried out loud enough to wake the half-asleep bear in the barn. Riley was grunting as he sat up and wrapped his arms around her body. “Dear Lord, you are going to kill me,” he said to her.
“You will die a happy man, Riley Bishop,” she told him as she held him close.
“As long as I go in your arms, I will be okay,” he said. He held her all night long while they slept in front of the fire. Amanda is my wife. That was for me only.
I am the only man that has given her this experience. His body turned on him again. He was ready to have her once more.
It was no surprise to anyone when they came to town in mid-March with the body of Cullen Mulroney in the truck bed, and a very attached bear who followed them halfway down the mountain. It was also no surprise that Amanda Bishop told Riley’s family and friends that she was almost two months along with their first child. Riley Bishop was a changed man from the sourpuss that rarely smiled or pretty much growled at everyone who came near him. His job as Deputy Sheriff was seasonal and he was due back at the station in May to begin his duties again. Right now, he was still on his time and behind in furniture orders. After checking in with his brother, allowing his mother to pet him and rub on Amanda’s belly, they headed up to his house.
Amanda was surprised at the size of his home. Their home. Our home. The photo Cullen had sent, when he had pretended it was his house, did not do the modern cabin much justice. There were in-ground propane tanks and city power. He even purchased her a new laptop the day they came back into town so she could start working on her second novel, the sequel to North to Alaska.
“I think this time, it would be more exciting if the two lovebirds were trapped in a cave and had to survive getting back to camp,” he told her.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked him. She was hanging the daffodil curtains in the kitchen. Next, she was going to put away the china. All of the items she had bo
ught to decorate this house, she had packed up from the cabin and was putting them to good use.
“I know what else I would like, Mrs. Bishop,” he told her as his hands encircled her waist, running his fingers over the slight pouch in her stomach. The two had managed to get to his house and stay quiet for a week as they reset up shop. Unlike the cabin, he had a freezer where he stored lots of big game that he hunted. Tonight’s dinner was going to be elk steaks as several of the townsfolks and his friends who were stopping by to meet her, and say congratulations. It wasn’t much of a reception, but it would do just fine.
“Cut it out Riley! Your friends will be here soon and that elk is not nearly ready,” she giggled as she pulled away.
“Who cares about the elk? I’m ready,” he grinned as he nibbled at her ear.
She pulled away to hit at him with the dishcloth, “You. Shower. Now.” she told him.
“Only if you come and watch,” he winked at her as he dropped his trousers.
“Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, then I am going to have to join you,” she said.
“What about our friends?” he asked.
“Can you send them a text to come 15 minutes later,” she said as she started down the hall.
“I may need to tell them to come in 30, Mrs. Bishop; I am feeling frisky,” he told her.
-Fin -
About the Author
Olivia Gaines is the author of numerous bestselling novellas and books, including Two Nights in Vegas, A Few More Nights, and has had several number one best sellers with The Blakemore Files including Being Mrs. Blakemore and Shopping with Mrs. Blakemore.
She lives in Augusta, GA, with her husband, son and snotty cat, Katness Evermean.
Connect with Olivia on her Facebook page at http://on.fb.me/1eorEAr or her website at http://oliviagaines.com.
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