Page 28 of Beauty and the Bosshole
“Did I pick one out?” she asks, leaning back against me, the floral scent of her freshly-shampooed hair drifting to my nose as I loosen the knot on the robe and feel her ass cradle the iron pipe of my aching dick.
“You did. It’s hanging in the closet in the bedroom. I’m going to have it framed and hung on our bedroom wall at home, so I can always remember what you looked like when you walked down the aisle to become my wife.” Her breath hitches as her delectable body wiggles in my lap, and I watch desire creep across her features as she keeps her eyes on mine in the mirror’s reflection.
“Tell me what it looks like.” Her voice thickens, each word softer than the last as I free the belt from the robe, letting it fall open, exposing her mouthwatering tits, my control slowly deserting me.
With a deep breath, I spread the front of the robe, feeling her body stiffen as my dick demands entry into that snug cunt that will be the source of my obsession for the rest of my life. I already know that, and I’m resigned to her power over me.
She’s trembling as my demanding fingers meet the softness of her belly, caressing the landscape of this lush creature as I get my first glimpse of her deep pink nipples and the curve of her tits exposed in the mirror.
An invisible hand grabs me by the balls as the hem of the robe falls from her creamy thighs, displaying the dark brush of curls at the top of her mound and the slash below, taunting me as I battle with my primal instincts, knowing I need to calm the fuck down, or I’m going to hurt her.
“It was the color of ripe strawberries. Layers of silk and flutters of some other translucent fabric hung from your waist to the floor.” My hands find the pebbles of her nipples, the soft weight of her breasts fitting perfectly into my palms as my balls squeeze, eager to deliver the binding cream into her welcoming womb. “There was a slit that showed off your left leg, almost to your hip. And the top…” I roll her peaked nipples between my fingers on a hard pinch, her hands grabbing the arms of the chair as she draws in a sharp breath. “The top fit you like a second skin. Tiny straps struggled to hold on to the fabric that covered your tits.”
“Red. Slit. Spaghetti straps.” Her words are breathy as her legs spread another few inches, her eyes on mine in the mirror as I grope her tits shamelessly, my dick straining against my zipper. “Sounds unconventional.”
“It was perfect.” My heart stalls as I lock my eyes onto the little shiny petals of her pussy, taunting me in our reflection, and I realize there is so much I don’t know about my wife. “Touch that pretty kitty you’re teasing me with. I want to watch you touch yourself in the mirror.”
Instead of withdrawing or refusing, her face brightens, teeth nipping at her lower lip, and I’m breathing like a racehorse.My bride is a temptress. Sweet, and smart, and sassy, and slutty.
A deadly combination.
“Touch myself?” She flutters her lashes in mock surprise. “That seems a bit outside of my job description.”
“Your job is to do what your boss tells you. And I want you to baptize that wedding ring. I know you’re wet. Your scent is driving me crazy. Get those fingers down there. I don’t want to have to tell you again.”
Her brow knits, lips twisting, but she does as I say, walking her fingers painfully slowly, down from her belly button, until they slide deliciously into those perfect pink petals.
A shudder quivers through her body as they make contact, and she flashes a devious smile at me from the mirror. “No toys this time?”
“Oh, I’ve got the ultimate toy for you, baby. I just need to make sure your tight little hole is primed and ready.”
God, she’s turning everything in my world upside down. I’ve never gone without thinking about work and the company for more than five minutes in longer than I can remember, but I could let it all fall to ruin watching her play with herself for me.
“Does this new toy have a name?” Her fingers move faster as I work her nipples, my mouth watering, wondering how she tastes. “All the other products have names. Like… Orgasmatron, Tangerine Tickler, Pink Moan-y Maker...”
I swallow, knowing I can’t watch this show much longer and not nut in my pants. “Yeah, this one is called Sorry Not Sorry.”
“What does—” she starts as I slap my hand down, slipping my fingers between hers as our hands move together against the slippery heat. The diamond pinches into my palm as I press down, leading her hand lower, guiding our ringed fingers into her drenched opening.
“I never thought I’d have a ring on my finger,” I breathe, feeling more of her magic seeping into my soul.
Her cum creeps through our threaded fingers, slippery and warm against the cool metal rings that bind us together. There’s one question I haven’t asked. I pump our stacked ring fingers into her opening and feel the insane tightness, hear the little yelping gasp she releases when our forward motion is met with resistance.
“God, baby, my wife is a virgin?”
How did I get so lucky? It’s caveman, alpha bullshit, but the thrill that races through me at the idea this beautiful treasure has been untouched?
I vow in this instant to make her the happiest woman on the face of the planet.
“Yes,” she hisses, the answer shooting straight into my soul.
Let God strike me down for the gratitude that flows over me in hot waves.
“You know what ‘consummate’ means, right, baby?” I grind my fingers on top of hers, finding that sensitive nub that’s going to be the singular focus of my world from this day forward.
“Of course.” She lets out a soft giggle. “I’m a virgin, Reese, not a naïve little girl. I just never found anyone I thought was…” She pauses, lips open as I work her clit with her ring finger as she finishes on a breathy moan, “worthy.”
Jesus, it’s going to take all my willpower not to throw her onto the carpet and shove myself home.