Her trust means everything to me. The way she stands naked in the centre of the hotel room, arms voluntarily behind her back as I circle; a shark taking in every nuance of beauty I long to devour. The cascade of chestnut locks cover her breasts at the front and brush the midpoint of her spine between the vee her arms make, hands clasped. Her wedding band glints in the lamplight, a stark reminder of stakes long forgotten.
A whisper below her fingertips, the arc of her bottom begins. Sculpted perfection. The succulent orbs she has allowed me to mark in the past swoop to the tantalising crease where they join her toned thighs. And between their convergence, the faintest gap; a keyhole that unlocks the woman beneath the mask she wears for her husband.
I twitch beneath my suit at recollections of nights lost in her embrace. Breathless kisses, hands tearing at clothes. Her head lolling as I bite her neck and throat, tugging that glorious waterfall of hair, fingers squeezing, pinching, exploring, working south over fiery skin to find that beautiful gap. I always surge when she melts in my grasp as I swab wet heat from her cleft and feed it back to her parted mouth, sating that salacious appetite.
Her legs are impossibly soft yet firm. Supple to the eye, sinewy and muscular beneath. Strong and powerful on the occasions I let her take control. Let her straddle me and squeeze. Crawl over me. Tease me with her arousal and pin me down, crushing her wetness to my face, forcing every lap and lick, touch and nip that propel her towards completion.
There's only one thing more exciting than her owning me. Her surrender. When she places trust entirely in my hands. When I treat her to a foot massage, her sighs driving me further. To lift her toes to my lips and swirl my tongue over them, taking each one into my warm mouth to suck. Lick. Nibble. Circle her ankles with my thumbs, sweep them up her legs and journey the remainder of her body, charting it with fingertips and tongue to learn more about her without words.
But all that lies hidden. Solely for me to discover. Her surface is pure.
Innocence displayed.
Circling fully, I stand before her. Watch her chest rise and fall. Know her eyes are on my actions as I shuck off my jacket and toss it to the bed. Reach to unfurl the necktie that has bound her countless times as I tease her limber frame to the edge of its capacity for pleasure, then break through that barrier and take her further than she considered possible.
I drop the tie at her feet. Take in her expression. Cheeks lightly flushed. Lips that know so much sin. Hungry blue eyes that follow from button to button as I unsnap the white shirt at a tantalising, slow pace until I peel the garment from my body and dangle it in front of her. My clean, musky, scent invades her senses before I flick the material behind me to billow to the floor.
I growl. "You want me?"
Her teeth nip at the corner of her lower lip. The wordless response, a hasty nod, makes me hard.
"Show me."
She sinks to her knees, resting on her haunches and interlacing fingers in prayer, elbows forming a right angle, forearms pressed together. Chin tilted up. Aqua irises swim to meet mine.
Innocence offered.
Outstretching my arm, I bring two fingertips beneath her chin. Hold there a few long moments as her eyes burn brighter. With my free hand I tug belt, button, then zipper. Her eyes remain on mine when the garment thuds to the floor.
She barely flinches when my underwear joins it, thick cock forging skyward as I ache to feel her lips wrapped around it. To witness the transformation from her everyday, sweet self into the greedy, wanton, cock-worshipping slut who is only uncaged in my presence.
I step forward. Close enough she could extend her tongue to collect the drop of clear pre-come that rests at the flared tip. But she knows better than to try, despite the desperate hunger I know boils inside her veins.
Her eyes remain locked with mine. Even when I release her chin, ease forward and press my length to her lips, her wide-eyed gaze is unwavering. Subservient to the core.
I push and split her lips apart a fraction. Her hands drift behind her once more, fingers lacing.
Innocence surrendered.
Her mouth widens as she takes me in, breathy exhalations from her nose dancing on each millimetre that invades her warmth. I swell inside her when a scant inch or two remains, knowing she'll soon be starved of breath as her tongue snakes my tumescence to make room in her throat.
I don't slow. I forge inside the wet sanctuary, feeling muscles clamping as she fights the urge to gag. To cough. It's too much and she splutters, spit flying, dripping to the hotel rug as she gasps, draws back halfway and then rams home again, fully.
Droplets of water well from the corners of eyes that never leave mine. Fuck, she's incredible. Buried deep, she takes everything, again and again. Out. In. Hold. Gasp. A swirling wet rhythmical delight, obscene moans and slurps ricocheting off the sparse walls as heat eddies in my loins. My balls draw up and I groan hard, surging at her slutty behaviour.
She hums her approval as I erupt, firing searing ropes of milky come down her clamped throat. The flash in her eyes tells me her pussy is dripping at the act.
I yearn to eat her. Drown in her desire. Maybe tie her up first. Tease her with fingers, tongue, lips and teeth until she's a writhing wreck. Until she's ripped apart by the sheer gravity of her climax and reassembled in my arms afterwards, making her whole again.
Innocence claimed.
