Page 92 of Sire

She gasps as I expose her. She moans when I circle my tongue around her hard nipple.

“Fuck, Wren. Your perfect little tits.” I tongue one and nip at it, too. “I’m going to suck them until I die.”

She rasps, “What about when I get preg?—”

“Even better, Angel. Every inch and drop of you is mine now.”

The thought of tasting her blood, her milk, her cum; I’m addicted. I’m abhorrent.

I’m hers.

I tongue and suck her nipples, kissing the butterfly tattoo over her heart, too, until she’s bowing her back. “Sire,please.”

“You want to come while I suck your pretty nipples, my angel?” I latch on, hard, making her cry out. Plopping my lips off, I boast, “I’ve made you come like this before. You’re such a dirty girl when I suck your tits.”

“Please.” She yanks at my jacket. “Please, I want to feel you, too.”

“You want to feel your husband?”

Bracing on one hand, I grab hers with my other and cup it over my soaring erection. “Thisis what you do to your husband, Wren. You make me so hard, I can come in my pants for you.”

Rising on my knees, I loosen my tie until I can yank it off. Shrugging off my jacket, I toss it aside before I do the same to my vest.

Unbuttoning my shirt, I gaze down at her, wanting me, and my nostrils flare, fighting for restraint.

She looks so pure, but she’s giving me that fuck-me expression. Her exposed breasts heave with wanton breath. Dark curls, framed by white lace, spill around her. She’s ready and waiting for my cock, and my heart clenches.

“Fuck, Wren.” I leave my shirt hanging open. “I need to seeallthat’s mine.”

She chose a dress that’s perfect for her,for us. It’s simple, sacred, and soft white lace. It lets me lift the gossamer layers to her waist and salivate at what I see. “Damn, Angel. What are these?”

“Untie them,” she teases about the white lace panties I’m touching. They’re barely held in place with tiny strings tied in blue bows.

“Untie them? Fuck that.” I fist the lace, ripping them off.

Gazing at her virgin pussy about to be mine, two men wage a war inside me, and both want to fuck her in front of his pulpit.

One man lies down, sinking his face between her thighs, and gently kissing her hard clit, needing to taste her sweet cum on his tongue.

The other man ruthlessly holds her legs open, the raging, hard dick in his pants aching to plunge inside her and make her bleed.

“Oh God, Sire, yes.” She seems to love both.

Fisting my hair, she lifts her hips, smearing her wet pussy over my mouth. I’ve taught her this, how to seek her orgasm proudly.

“Do it,” she demands. “I’m your wife now. Put your fingers inside me. Please.”

Jesus, Jesus. I need help.

One man wants to carefully open her with his fingers first, but the other craves her first blood on his cock.

All I can do is answer this hunger inside me. It’s ruthless and right.

“You don’t get anything inside you until you come on my tongue, Angel. Do it.” I reach up, tugging at her taut nipple. “Be a good girl and make your virgin pussy come on your pastor’s face, right in front of his pulpit.”

“Oh, God.” Wren shivers, spreading her thighs wider as I suck her clit.

Fuck, yes,she’s getting off on this taboo, but it’s not wrong. It’s right. It’s us. We’re married before God.