Page 81 of Threads That Bind Us
“Fuck, Gwen,” he pants, and it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever heard.
I want to do it again, to drive him to the edge of pain, to hear his voice break for me. But we have plans, and I can’t get carried away.
I lean forward and lick up the column of his throat, savoring the salt of his skin on my tongue, the subtle sweetness of his cologne in my nose.
“You sure you want this?” I ask against his shoulder, his neck, kissing between words. His fingers slip into my hair until his hands are cradling my head, and he pulls me back to look into my eyes.
“I’m sure.” No hesitation in his eyes. No worry, no shame, no fear. Just eagerness and anticipation as he pulls me down close to kiss me. “Please, mio filo, fuck me.”
The words break me and stitch me back together all in the same moment. Charlie’s trust, his vulnerability, is the thread that binds this new version of myself, loved and unafraid.
I unwrap my body from his and clamber off him, trying to hide my apprehension, but I’m bouncing on my toes as I stand to the side of the bed. He gives me an endeared smile, a shaky laugh slipping from him as he sits so I can stand between his legs.
He peppers soft kisses on my shoulders and chest as he hooks his thumbs into my shorts and pulls them down my legs.When I kick them off, he reaches for the box at the end of the bed and starts pulling out the contents.
We’ve watched about a dozen videos, both of the erotic and educational variety, so it doesn’t surprise me when Charlie takes the lead, sliding the bumper over the base of the slim silicone cock and fitting it into the silver ring. The person I was before Charlie would have thought research before sex would be a mood killer, but few things have been hotter than laying in bed, watching porn, discussing what looks intriguing and what doesn’t. Pressing my lubed fingers and toys into his ass while I have him talk through his fantasies. What he wants me to do to him, for him, with him.
The devotion in his gaze is overpowering as he wraps the harness around my waist, pulling the strap until it's snug, but not tight. He runs a finger under the leather, ensuring it won’t bite at my skin, and I can see the hairs on his arm standing straight. He wraps each hanging strap around my thighs, one at a time, pressing his lips against my stomach. When the harness is secure, he leans back, his eyes dark and hazy with lust.
It’s a little odd, the way I have to shift my hips and redistribute my weight, but it feels nice. I take the dildo and adjust it so the bumper sits comfortably against my clit. I’m already soaked, and the silicone slips pleasurably against me as I stroke the toy again.
Charlie’s cough has me looking up from where my hand meets silicone. He’s so gorgeous like this—pupils blown out, hair out of place from my hands, chest rising and falling hard as he grips the edge of the mattress. His eyes can't seem to settle on any part of me, tracing my breasts, climbing up my legs, watching me pump the toy between my legs in my fist.
“If you want me to stop?” I ask, rolling one of my nipples between my fingers.
“Lemon,” he says, the whites of his knuckles the only sign that he’s holding back.
“Good husband,” I murmur, and I swear he whimpers when I twist my nipple harder and let out a cry. “Do you want to suck this for me?” I ask, pumping the dildo between my legs.
He nods quickly and then remembers his voice.
“Can I touch you while I do?” He’s pleading like there’s nothing he wants more.
It’s intoxicating, and I nod.
He doesn’t waste another second, flipping our positions so my ass is perched on the edge of the bed and he’s standing in front of me. He trails his fingers down my jaw, over my peaked nipples, down my stomach, until he’s gripping the toy.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees and kissing the inside of my thighs. My body is on fire with the way he touches me. “My beautiful wife, my thread of fate.”
He pulls my body further down the bed and wraps his hands around my ass as he lowers his mouth onto the dildo.
The image of Charlie on his knees for me, mouth wrapped around the toy, is fucking incredible. I knit my fingers into his hair and pull so I can see his eyes, glazed over with lust and begging for me. He shifts his hands further toward the inside of my thighs, so his fingertips can just barely press into my pussy.
The bumper grinds against my clit as he sucks, and the sounds he’s making are driving me over the edge of sanity. He breathes heavily through his nose, never stopping, never taking his eyes off me.
“Need to be inside you,” I pant, and I have no idea whose voice that is. She’s desperate and demanding all at once. Charlie pumps his fingers into my pussy one last time before pulling back.
He tells me I’m beautiful all the time, but when he looks at me like that…
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, unable to keep from saying it out loud. I press my palm to his cheek, rubbing my thumb over his swollen lips.
He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, turning to press a kiss into my palm. I’ve loved that, every time he’s done it.
He stands up and cradles my face, and my entire body buzzes. Lightheaded and euphoric with the feeling of him so close to me, I sway into his body, trailing my teeth and tongue and lips over his collarbones.
“Lay on the bed, mio marito,” I whisper against his skin, and I feel him laugh under my touch. I should learn more Italian, but I looked that one up as soon as we left the courthouse.
“Si, mia moglie.”