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always the top

Ayla

We’ve ushered the last guest out, promising dinner and drinks sooner rather than later. The cleaning crew has come, bussed the china and crystal, and are gone. Demo crews removed the tables and chairs and returned our furniture to where it belongs.

Fitz never returned, and Ren is still standing sentinel as if protecting our house from a crew of stealthy trained operatives.

I’m in the bedroom removing the studs from my ears when Christian slides in behind me, wrapping an arm around me to rest on my stomach. His pinky plays lazily as his lips hit the back of my neck.

“You never cease to amaze me, wife. From the first day I met you, that wild avenging angel—to today, smoothing over a situation that was disastrous to make it… Hell, you made it fun.”

He places another warm kiss to my neck before moving toward my ear. “Want to get in the hot tub with me?”

I nod, my breath catching in my lungs by the hunger pooling in my belly. “Is anyone still here?”

“Just Ren.”

“Disable the cameras?” I mean for it to be a statement but it comes out as a request.

His chin brushes against me in a nod. “Sure, Princess.”

Cool air meets my heated skin as Christian grabs his phone, fiddling with it until he tosses it onto our bed. His suit jacket comes next before his hands return to my upper back tracing the outline of my dress.

“All night. All damn night I’ve had to avert my eyes from you.” He places a kiss on my spine. “So fucking beautiful.” Another kiss. “So God damned tempting.”

He slides a hand to my breast and pinches a nipple.

I gasp and reach a hand over my chest to the opposite shoulder to peel the dress off that side. His hand settles over mine firmly as he tsks .

“My present. I want to unwrap it.”

He’s killing me. His words, his tongue, his fingers. His dominating control.

I exhale and nod.

“Good, baby. Mine to unwrap. Mine to touch.” His left arm comes under my breasts and lifting as his other hand peels the dress over my right shoulder, kissing the top in an open-mouthed kiss that’s so sensual my knees want to buckle.

His left hand pinches my right nipple and tweaks it before his right arm joins under the fabric of my covered left one.

I gasp and buck. I can’t remember my nipples having this direct connection to my clit like they do now. Leaving his right arm across my chest, he removes his left to peel the sleeve off my left side, repeating his warm, wet kiss there as well.

Warm rough hands slide from my armpits to the ridge of my hips where the sleeves and bodice of my dress hang. With a soft whoosh of fabric, the gown puddles at my feet, and I’m left bare, except for my strappy heels.

“Fuck. So glad I didn’t know…” It’s as if he’s talking to himself as he pulls the pins from my hair. “Had I known, Princess, tonight would’ve gone very, very different.”

The thick heat of his erect cock presses against my ass through his trousers as his fingers roughly tug at my tresses, dipping my head back to expose my neck.

His tongue slides along the shell of my ear before his teeth take the lobe and pinch.

At the same time, he sneaks a hand around to pinch my aching nipples.

“My stunning wife… teasing me in that dress. Her wild na ture hidden and tamed like her hair. Commando. Tell me, baby, is that pretty pink pussy weeping for me to touch?”

I nod, feeling the tug at my scalp from where he holds me.

“Yeah? Want me to relieve that ache?”

I nod again.

“Not yet.” He reaches around me to strum my clit once, causing me to mewl in protest. He releases my hair and drops his hand from between my legs to slide them down as he squats, his face right near my ass.

He begins unbuckling the strap of my heel, all the while his mouth teases the back of my thigh with warm wet kisses. He lazily fingers my ankle and the top of my foot after the strap is undone, before moving to my other shoe.

The sensual play is so erotic I could explode.

Hell, I might orgasm from where my mind is taking me.

He is efficient on the other side, all the while rubbing and placing slow circles on my ankle.

When I finally step out of the only thing I have on, he slides his warm flat palms up the inside of my legs to my thighs.

I instinctively open wider for him.

He places a kiss to my left ass cheek before biting down. His hands part at my center, one pressing into my pelvis, the other sliding up the seam of my ass from my pussy to that forbidden area.

A tremor wracks my body as I feel everything—the warmth flowing to my core, the cool breath on my ass, the phantom fingers moving across my legs, the hunger swirling in my belly.

Need.

Lust.

Desire.

The sound that comes from me is neither ladylike nor practiced. It’s carnal and desperate.

I’m carnal and desperate.

“Christian.” His name is a desperate plea on my lips. It’s the first thing I’ve uttered in our sensual tango.

“So close, Princess. That’s so close to how you say my name when I’m inside you.”

I repeat it, and he moves. He lifts me in a bridal carry and places me on the mattress, kneeling between my legs on the carpet at my feet, and pulls my ass to the edge of the bed.

I’m teetering and could slide off at any time, except his shoulders come in to bracket my thighs, holding me wide.

His tongue laps my center, spearing into me, before finding my clit to suck and nibble.

All the while he holds my eyes. Watching him, seeing his desire as pleasure is unleashed on me, I get why men love to watch.

It’s two senses. I’m at his mercy, a boat on the choppy seas during a nor’easter, thrashed about, only in exquisite sexual bliss.

I try to squeeze my thighs together but am denied when he focuses his attention solely on my clit with suction and vibration. His shoulders bow wide, and he burrows closer. But it’s the nip at my clit that shocks me. Teeth scrape down my sensitive flesh.

“Ohhh, God.” The scream rips from me as I struggle to get closer and get away at the same time. Neither are possible. We’re as close as two people can be without being connected and my escape is futile. Besides I don’t want that. At all. “I’m so close. So close.”

He stops. The fucker stops and peeks his head up from my legs. “How many times do you want to come, Ayla?”

What the hell? I want to explode, not discuss.

“No chatting. More licking. More sucking.” I hope my eyes communicate the fire that is close to combusting in my core.

He laughs and warm air pulsing against my core is a tease when I need relief. His warm tongue barely enters me and flicks. And he hums.

It’s so good. And I’m close, but this isn’t cutting it. “Are you torturing me? Is this fun for you?” I use every bit of upper body strength and slide away from his mouth, but I only make it as far as he allows.

He flips me over, face down on the bed and butterflies me wide.

He slides over my body on all fours, hands bracketing my shoulders as his hips press his impressive erection to slide between my ass cheeks.

His words come from very close to my ear when he says, “Wife, eating you and fucking you is the best thing in my life. It is fun. It is delicious. It is everything. Trust me, I will make this so good for you, that you’ll wonder how you lived without it for three months. ”

Fingers play lazily down my right side, near my breast, over an ass cheek and under my hip. I lift in desperate invitation.

“You want control, baby? Come ride my face. Take what you want.”

He slides off me and lays flat on the bed, extending a hand, offering me the option. His black eyes bore into me, the brown irises dissolved by his dilated pupils.

Hell, yes, I want control. I scramble to all fours, pinning him as he did to me, but I present a breast to him that he greedily takes to suck, all the while using his hands to torture me.

“Up. I need another taste. I’ll never get enough of your sweet, sweet pussy.”

I crawl over him, and he settles in dropping his shoulders over my calves to pin me in place.

“What happened to me being in control?”

“Our bed. Our sex life. I’m always the top, Ayla.” He pulls me to his mouth, his fingers digging into my ass cheeks and feasts while I slide back and forth, seeking and finally, finally finding.

When I’m close, I fall to my hands, on all fours. “So close, Honey. Please don’t stop. Please.”

Three things happen at once. None of which I’m prepared for. A thumb enters my ass, and fingers enter my pussy. He sucks so hard on my clit it borders on pain, and I shatter. Hard.

Stars hit my eyelids, and I can’t hold myself up as wave after wave pours through my core, extending out in bliss so primal, I wonder what I did before I met him.

He flips me onto my back, his mouth still on my clit and teeth rake down me again, extending the orgasm or cueing a second.

He laps. He hums. He scrapes. He sucks.

And I thrash like my body can no longer contain the ecstasy.

Fingers leave my body, and the unmistakable purr of a zipper makes me smile. My legs are held wide by his elbows, and the heat of his cock nudges my entrance.

“Open your eyes, Ayla. ”

I do and holding his searing gaze, he presses into me in a deep thrust until I can take no more from him. Fuck. I was lying before. This is ecstasy.

“That might be my favorite thing in the world. Your face when you take me. It’s burned on my brain.”

He’s so long and hot, I feel branded from the inside with his long deep strokes. It’s the best sex I’ve ever had, and it’s just begun.

As another orgasm builds, I expect Christian to speed up. He’s dominating, controlling, and obviously knows what to do with his cock.

Instead, about the moment I want to reach for the edge, he plants himself, rocking in place, and drops his forehead to mine.

His eyes shine. “I missed this. Missed you. It’s been hell to be near you but not be able to touch you, to taste you, to fill you.

Hearing you come, seeing you take me, the smell of us together.

I… I needed this.” His words are whisper quiet.

His eyes close, and he ruts as if trying to get closer.

“Christian?” His face pinches like pain fills his mind or body.

“Honey, let my knees go.”

He does, only to bring his hands under my lats and grab onto my shoulders. I wrap my legs around his back, one high and one low, and reach a hand to his cheek.

“Move please. Take what you need.”

Taking control and being ceded control are two different things. I just gave him all I could—me, open and vulnerable.

His eyes blaze with something I can’t pinpoint. But that offer must’ve set off something primal in him, because he pistons with such force, my small breasts shake violently.

His hand comes to my clit, and he coaxes another orgasm out of me. Somehow the man must be made of steel because he rides right through that. His neck muscles bunch and roll from the strain of exertion, and he keeps going.

“Watching your face in the throes.”

Thrust.

“Feeling your pussy squeeze me.”

Thrust.

“Seeing you take me in that sweet, pink heaven.”

Thrust.

“The sounds you make when you come.”

Thrust .

“Your tits bouncing in time.”

Thrust.

“My cock buried inside my wife.”

Thrust.

His hand on my clit pinches until I scream. The pain and pleasure are too much the former until the latter pulls me under. This orgasm is mild and lazy. I’m wrung out and have come so much I’m boneless. Hot cum singes my insides, and my husband collapses atop me, inside me, surrounding me.