Page 60 of Ceremony of Lust
“I hardly see you,” I moan. The only proof I have of Zev is home these days is the lingering scent of his cologne and the dirty clothes piling up in the laundry.
He kisses me hard and presses his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry to burden you with so much, but I promise you, it will all be worth it. All of our sacrifice will be rewarded once we are settled in our new home.”
His kiss stokes the fire inside me. When he’s gone, I miss him. I crave his touch. Normally, when we’re in bed together, Zev doesn’t hesitate to take what he wants, and I more than willingly give it to him. But whenever he is home for longer than a few hours, he’s been distant.
My hands wrap about the buckle at his waist to tug it free. He reaches down, stopping me. “What do you think you’re doing?” he rasps out.
“You’re finally home,” I whisper against his lips. “It’s been weeks since you’ve touched me.”
“It can wait,” he insists.
I shake my head and continue to pull on his belt until it’s free. When I look up, I hold my gaze steady, and say, “You’ve changed me. You’ve made me want, and you’ve made me desire. Don’t push me away.”
He says nothing, but there’s a slight flare of his nostrils. He’s not happy. But he knows I’m right because he wants me, too. It’s right there, in his dark, golden-brown eyes. They’re so full of lust.
Slowly, I drop to my knees and undo the button of his trousers. This is still new territory for us. His mouth has been everywhere on my body, but he’s been content to give and rarely receive. As I slowly tug his pants down, I suddenly feel ravenous. My own mouth waters as thoughts of tasting him again enter my mind.
My hand moves deliberately over the hard bulge and then dips inside the waistband of his boxer briefs. I grasp him loosely in my hand, pulling him free. My tongue darts out and swipes across my lips. One glance up at him reveals a man torn. Weariness is etched in his face, but his own smoldering desire for me burns in the depths of his eyes.
“Tell me what you want from me,” he almost snarls as he watches me take my first taste.
“Just you,” I say after swiping my tongue along the tip.
“Do you want my cock, Yael?” I nod my head. “Then say it,” he hisses.
I sit up straighter, grasping his shaft in my hand. “I want your cock,” I repeat, letting my hand slowly stroke him.
He smiles seductively before letting his head fall back. With my hands firmly grasping his thighs, I devour him whole.
Every day I’m married to Zev, he teaches me something new about myself, about my body, about the world. Every sexual encounter we share pushes my boundaries further and further. When he looks at me, I feel seen. When he takes me, I feel like a woman and not a girl. He gives me the confidence to explore my desires without shame, and right now, kneeling in front of him with his cock in my mouth, my heart swells with emotion because I am bringing him pleasure.
My mouth, my hands, my body, and my actions make Zev’s eyes roll back in his head. Make his fingers dig into my scalp and tug at my hair as I feast on him. Make him moan with pleasure. Make him explode inside my mouth and vibrate with pleasure.
“Jesus Christ, Yael,” he grinds out. I sit back and look up at him with a hopeful smile. One hand grasps my chin, and his thumb brushes my bottom lip. “I’ve missed being close to you.”
His hands slip down my arms and slide under them as he lifts me to my feet. We turn until I’m pressed against the wall in our bedroom. His hands and his eyes roam across my body, inspecting it with excitement that’s reflected in his wicked grin.
“So many things I’d like to do to you,” he murmurs as he steps forward and brushes his lips along my jaw and down my neck. One large hand skims my belly and travels up until it palms my breast. “You test my patience, Yael. I don’t want to hold back with you, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
He flicks his gaze upward so I can see the lust burning brightly in his gaze.
“You told me once I’d benefit from your experience,” I whisper, teasing a kiss from him. “Teach me to be like you. Show me how to take what I want freely. I don’t want to hold back anymore.”
The hand covering my breast moves back down toward the center of my body. His fingers brush against my core, teasing me as he continues to watch me. I have no idea what he’s waiting for, but the more he touches me, the more heated I get.
He takes a step back to remove his clothing. I reach for the hem of my dress to remove it, but he stops me. “Let me,” he rasps out.
I marvel at the sight of my husband’s body. The hard planes and chiseled edges create a masterpiece designed purely for sin. He’s so breathtakingly beautiful from the dark hair on his head down to his trim waist and finally to his powerful legs. I’m so caught up in his beauty I don’t realize he’s practically on top of me, the hem of my dress firmly in his hands. In one swift movement, my dress is up and over my head.
He makes his displeasure for my choice in undergarments known with a cluck of his tongue. “What are you wearing?” he asks as he examines the boring cotton set I put on this morning.
“I didn’t think you’d be home,” I admit. “Why wear the pretty things you bought me when no one will see them?”
He takes a step back, my dress still in his grasp. “Don’t you look at yourself in the mirror?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then you see yourself.” The dress falls from his hand, and he reaches out to loop a finger under the strap of my bra. “You’re a beautifulwoman, Yael. Not a little girl. You need to see yourself as I do. All the time, whether I’m here or not.”