Page 63 of Urgent Vows
"What if it is Carlotta?"
"She'll call again."
"She could need help." I give him a beseeching look. "Please."
He surges to his feet and stalks over to my phone. "It is your aunt. She can wait."
Maybe I'm being selfish, but I agree. Zia Lora will want to talk about my father, about funeral arrangements. I'd prefer not to have to attend the funeral at all, much less have to help plan it. I will call her later, but now? I want to revel in the way my husband makes me feel.
Severu settles between my legs again, and his hands go back to the way they were, both holding my thighs immobile and his thumbs on either side of my clitoris.
His penetrating gaze sends a shiver of anticipation through me. "Play with your tits, wife."
The order jolts me with a zing of arousal. "I…" I've never done that, but I want to. For him.
And for me.
"Cup them with both of your hands,mi dolce bellezza."
I do what he says, marveling at how soft my own skin feels to me. My breasts are heavy in my palms and spill over my fingers.
"Yes, just like that," he says, his thumbs keeping up their steady rhythm on my clitoris. "Now squeeze."
I do and it's not exactly like when he does it. His hands are bigger, his fingers firmer, but I still enjoy it.
"Perfect." He watches me squeeze and release my boobs rhythmically for several seconds, then says, "Now pluck at your nipples."
I pinch both my nipples, not hard, but enough to feel it and moan a little. Then I pull and release. Oh, gosh, that is good. I do it again and again.
"You've got me so damn hard, Catalina."
I tilt my head so I can see and gasp. His penis is jutting straight out from his body, red with the blood rushing through it.
"Keep playing with yourself," he demands and then his head is back between my legs and his tongue thrusts deep.
He thrusts in and out of me, my swollen, over sensitized flesh clinging to the slippery appendage. When he pulls out and swipes his tongue up my labia and over my clitoris, the ecstasy shatters inside me.
I cry out his name, "Severu!"
He coaxes me through aftershocks that should be measured on the Richter scale until I can't take any more and my body jolts with every caress of his tongue against my clit.
Severu lifts his face, but doesn't move his hand. "Good?"
I nod, too pleasure addled to speak.
His thumb swipes over my too sensitive bud and I cry out. He smiles and does it with the other one.
"Please, Severu."
"Who do you belong to, Catalina?"
"You. I belong to you."
"You are my wife."
"And you are my husband." It goes both ways, even if he is the dominant partner in the bedroom.
"I am."
