His Mafia Prince
Chapter 246: It Will All Be Better Soon

Chapter 246: It Will All Be Better Soon

(TYLER)

He releases my hair when he sees I understand the game, and I lower my head to his cock, biting blunt, lip-protected kisses up the underside of his shaft, until I get back to that delicious, heavy cockhead. It’s so thick, flaring out, feels so perfect in my ass, in my mouth, that I’ve suggested before that we take a plaster cast and get a toy made from it.

He liked the idea, I could tell. Maybe for our next anniversary.

In the meantime, I curl my tongue around it, lift its weight into my mouth, and close my lips around the ridge. I let his flavour fill my mouth again, the scent of his desire wafting into my nose, and I take in a deep, satisfied breath of him.

His thighs tremble, and when I slide my hand over his chest to the other, lonely nipple, I feel his heart banging hard against the cage of his ribs, and I know why he’s told me no hands.

He’s already right there on the edge, his balls heavy and tight, his orgasm right there waiting to burst out of him... and into me.

I suck him down slowly, letting the slick tip of his cock find its own way past my tonsils, into my throat.

Over the years I’ve grown accustomed to Sasha’s length and girth, but he’s always a challenge at first. Sometimes he likes to shove my head down, make me take him fast so he can feel me half choking on him, but not right now. Right now, if he did that, he’d shoot much sooner than he wanted. Always a master of self-control.

But I like to pick my man apart, unravel him slowly, and that’s what I set about doing. I blow him with a languid and leisurely pace that gets him panting, and then I leave his nipples alone, screwed up tight and sensitive like they are, and use my well-manicured nails to scratch blunt tracks down the inside of his spread thighs.

He jerks at that; Sasha’s always has unexpected erogenous zones all over his body, and I’ve made it my business to find every single one of them in the time we’ve been married so far. By the time we die, it’s my ambition to have made every square inch of him light up under my touch.

I let his dick slip from my lips and slap back to his belly, wet and shining in the bathroom light, and we both watch another bead of excitement well from the tip and drip onto him. I nudge his cock aside with my nose to lick up the spill, then look into his face.

I know what I must look like. My lips all puffy and pink, spit running down my chin, my cheeks flushed with arousal.

His lips part, his tongue darting out to wet them in an unconscious display. He wants me, wants to taste me, to eat me all up. And he can, after I’ve had my fill of him. I’ve been edging him for a while now, and my knees are getting sore despite the fluffy towel over the bathroom tiles, so this time when I suck him back down, it’s with a mission.

I bob my head on him, gaining speed, sucking so hard my cheeks ache, until I’m rewarded with his hand on my head, pushing me down, his hips thrusting up with an involuntary shove.

I hear his yelp of pain transform into a long moan of satisfaction as his spunk floods across my tongue. He hisses as I suck up and off him, then lick the still-spilling pearls from his slit. "You okay?" I ask softly, running my eyes over his bandages. They’re still white. No stains. Part of my hesitancy to do anything too strenuous is the memory of those white bandages soaked red when we were in that dark underbelly of the hospital.

But he catches me looking and irritation flashes over his face. "Get up," he snaps, and I get to my feet, trying not to lean too heavily on his thighs as I do. My dick bounces around, still dripping, and I twist to keep it away from his bandages. The last thing he needs is dick-drizzle on his bandages.

"Don’t." He grabs my hips and makes me face him. "Don’t you fucking take that pretty little cock away from me. I’m going to suck your soul out through it, and you’re going to let me."

His hands slide around to my ass, and he pulls me forward so that I have to plant my hands on the back wall of the shower or risk stabbing him with my dick.

But he’s already swallowed it down, his tongue lashing around me, and the strength of his sucking makes me think he’s going to drag my cum out of me by force. His fingers drive into the meat of my ass, setting the rhythm and pace for me, and the encouraging grunts he gives echo in the shower stall over the noise of the water.

I rock against him, cursing him out in breathless, wicked, meaningless words, and when his fingers caress my asshole, teasing, probing, I let the ecstasy overwhelm me. I’m driven up onto my toes with the bliss of it, my back arching, my raw throat aching as I shout out how good it feels, how much I fucking love him, how hard he’s making me come...

The second sponge bath is less sexy than the first, but much more relaxed. "We could do this every day," I suggest.

The smile falls from his face, and he grumps, "You’ll get tired of it."

"You mean you’ll get tired of it," I correct him. "I would never get tired of your dick in my mouth."

He frowns, but he nods. "Alright. It’s better than nothing."

"Excuse the fuck out of me, but that was one intense, amazing, awesome orgasm you just had, husband. But hey, if you don’t want—"

"No, no," he says quickly. "I mean, yes. It was amazing. It always is with you, you know that. But I..."

He takes the washcloth from me and throws it over his shoulder, then takes my hand and brings me closer, between his legs. His hands slide around to my ass again and he leans in slightly to kiss my damp belly. "I like to fuck," he murmurs into my skin.

I card my fingers through his hair. "We will," I promise him. "When you’re better, it’ll be just like it was."

But he doesn’t reply. He just puts his arms around my waist and presses his face against me, holding me for a long time.

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