The Lover's Children - Box Set One

Chapter Twenty-Six - Kirstie-2

Puzzled, I look down. “Wha…?”

“As you were, Kirstie. Arms raised.”

Pussy purrs and clutches.

Again, I obey him. Ryan sips from the glass once more, then refills it. Ice clinks as he takes the bottle from the silver bucket, clinks again as he replaces it. “You look good like that. Your waist tight. Your breasts raised.”

His gaze scorches over my body, but stretching out his hand, still holding the glass, he draws it over my breast, tracing a line of iced dew over the n****e.

Gasping, I waver, trying to drop…

“No! Hold your position… That’s better.”

Shuddering and quaking, trying to remain upright, I whimper as frozen fire circles my n****e. A droplet trickles down, kissing a line down my breastbone.

“You look good, Kirstie. Really good.”

The glass moves, hovering over my other breast. Ryan’s eyes smoulder dark. He sucks at his lips, then brushes over the skin, twirling the glass in his fingers, swiping a glacial kiss over already swollen crinkled n****e.

Again, I gasp.

“You chose this, Kirstie. You wanted to be on top. Now you have it… Hmmm…” He takes the glass, looking it over. “It’s losing its chill. Can’t be having that. Let’s try something else.”

He tips the glass to his mouth, this time taking not a sip, but a gulp. But he doesn’t swallow, instead swishing it around. “That’s my mouth good and cold. But that’s not all of it…” Holding the flute to the hollow of my neck, he tilts the glass, oh, so carefully, and chilled champagne trickles down my breastbone, through the valley of my breasts and over my belly…

I can’t keep it inside. “Aaaahhhh…”

Ryan merely smiles, moving the glass down, then pausing. “It’s empty. But that’s not a problem.” Dipping the glass into the ice bucket, he draws it out, filled with ice-water. For good measure, he fishes out an ice cube, plopping it into the glass. “That should do nicely.”

His right hand holds the glass, hovering over my belly, but his eyes flick sidelong, eye pointing where the left hand dips into the bucket. “I’m sure, Kirstie, that you know where those fingers will be going soon…”

“Oh… God…”

“… but not yet. I’m still enjoying myself. I’d like to lick you out, but I think I’d drown one or other of us if I tried. No matter. This is almost as good. Better in some ways. I have a better view.” The glass tilts, tipping glacial water over my navel, to flow down my belly, dribbling into the dark curls at the vee of my thighs.

“Christ!” Lurching forward, my arms fling down and out. “Ryan, I…”

“Back up where you belong, Kirstie...”

I’m trying to obey, but the chill water is trickling between my thighs, seeping into my swollen folds, with a promise to my pulsing c**t.

“… Knees further apart, if you please. You know where I want to be now.”

“Ryan, I can’t hold this position.”

“Rest your hands on my shoulders, if you must. But you have to stay upright.” His eyes gleam… “If there is something that our time together has taught me, Kirstie, it is that there is nothing so delectable as the sight of a woman in s****l torment… You in s****l torment… And I intend to see the benefits of my efforts.”

“Ryan, I want you inside me. I want you to f**k me.”

“Oh, I shall. But not yet. Ach…” He whips his left hand, dripping, out from the bucket, stretching and flexing the fingers. “Y’know, that aches, when it’s a real deep-down chill. You lose all sense of feeling…”

He waves fingers white with cold by my face, briefly touching my cheek and sending another flash of electricity sizzling through to my core. “… but it’s all in a good cause… Now… Let’s find out how you’re doing down there.”

He draws fingers down over my belly: icicles that make my skin shiver, my flesh quiver and, as he follows a line down between my thighs, my p***y clench.

“Ryan, no… I can’t stand it…”

His lips twitch. “Oh, I think you can.”

The fingers slide inexorably inward, parting swollen lips… Cold. Frigid against my heating folds. The moan that escapes me quavers through the air.

“That’s good, Kirstie. So good. You’re hot down there. So hot. So ready for me.”

He’s not wrong. Two fingers, index and middle, I think, scissor around my swollen c**t, making a slow back-and-forth… To-and-fro… Squeezing and releasing… Pinching and relaxing. “Thought I’d give you a massage.”

“You call that massage?” His touch sears over my pulsing c**t. Wet heat scalds down inside my thighs.

Hyper-sensitive, teeth gritting, I’m trying for self-control. Thighs quaking, my bones liquefying, I want to drop onto him, take him inside me and f**k myself, and him, senseless. I can’t keep still. All of itself, my pelvis jerks and twitches.

Those frozen fingers slide inwardly once more, slipping through flesh throbbing with heat. I buck.

Ryan reaches inside the bucket… “If you don’t stay still…” … fishes out an ice-cube, holding it up for me to see… “… I’ll use this on you. Would you like that?”

The ice glints, a candle flame refracting through it, somehow burning inside its arctic prison. A bead of water gathers, elongates and drops, falling in slow motion, to be swallowed by a sea of white foam.

“I don’t think I could stand it.”

“Then do as you’re told and stay still.” He tosses the ice back into the bucket, then holds up the fingers that held it. “Nice and chilly again. Let’s make the most of that, shall we.”

In a kind of horrified-rhapsodic fascination I follow the fingers as slowly, inexorably, they move down, between my thighs. I know what’s coming. Inside, anticipating, I’m clenching already.

It doesn’t feel cold. It doesn’t feel hot. It simply feels. Ryan reaches up and inside, penetrating me with two, maybe three fingers. His chocolate-eyed gaze is locked with mine, but I squeeze my eyes closed. I think he’s twisting around inside me, spiralling against the inner muscle, stretching me open, but it’s hard to be sure. My world is all sensation: intense, freezing, burning, bitter chill, scorching heat…

I can’t tell the difference. In the heart of my seething arousal, there is no difference.

“You’re too hot, Kirstie. You’re warming my hand. We’d better not take too much time over this, eh?”

He thrusts up. It’s not much, not hard, but I don’t need much. My self-control fails entirely and I spasm and gush. Liquid heat scalds from me and my belly convulses.

Ryan gives a low chuckle. “Now look what you’ve done, Kirstie. All over my hand. It’s as well we’re in the bath.” But he’s pumping me now. His thumb joins the party, rubbing over my c**t.

“That’s it my girl. I want to watch you coming on my hand. After that, we’ll see about you coming on my cock.”

He flexes his arm, angling himself. The other hand comes around me, holding me behind by my wet ass. Holding me to himself, his face pressed sidelong against my stomach, he rubs inside me, my front wall, my g-spot…

Orgasm hits me like a freight train. Explosively, I Come.

Am I screaming?

Maybe…

My cunt pulses ecstatically, clenching and clutching at the torturing fingers, spilling hot. My belly pulses and my legs would give way were it not for Ryan’s supporting grip on my hips.

“Stop, Ryan. Stop. Please stop.”

The fingers still, but don’t withdraw. And I’m not out of climax yet, my stomach muscles still fluttering, my thighs not yet willing to support me again.

The yammering in my chest subsides and abruptly, I have air again.

“You can let go now if you like,” comes a voice from somewhere below me, “before I suffocate.” The words are muffled for some reason.

Peeling my eyelids apart, I look down, I‘ve been supporting myself by gripping Ryan’s head. His face is pressed into my belly. I release him. “Um, sorry. Did I hurt you?”

He sits upright, laughing quietly and rubbing at his nose. “No, but I’m not sure my nose will ever be the same shape again.”

“This isn't how I imagined us consummating our marriage.”

“No? What did you imagine then?”

“I thought you would bend me over the bed and f**k me in my wedding dress.”

“Believe me, I’d planned on that.” His gaze grows intense once more. “My turn now. You can do the work this time.” He leans back, lounging against the bath. Lips curving, he eye-points down. “Onto my c**k with you, M’Girl.”

Easing myself over him, for the second time, I straddle his lovely shaft, invisible under the foam, but hardly difficult to find. “The hot water’s not giving you any problems then?”

“Proof of the pudding… Come on, climb aboard.”

Pussy’s still twitchy, jumping as I anchor his cockhead to my entrance. Kneeling upright, I pause, taking a breath.

Ryan frowns. “You okay?”

“Just a bit of afterburn.”

“That’s fine then,” he smiles, sliding hands, wet and slippery, over my body, resting over my thighs.

“Better than fine. Feels great.” Another breath and I slip down, taking my husband inside myself.

Ryan blows air. His eyes close and his head falls back. Bubbly water laps over him, a red tide-line over his chest where it warms his skin.

“Good?”

His eyes stay closed. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I might.”

Close-eyed, he smiles. And I move.

Slowly at first, taking it easy, I move. Up and down. In and out. His hard flesh glides inside mine, stretching me deliciously. Ryans sighs. His throat ripples and his lips press tight.

A little faster, I rise and fall over him. His eyes open, first meeting mine, then dropping to my breasts. He reaches, thumbing at a n****e still hard and taut.

Making my movements larger, with each stroke, I lift clear, then slide down. His eyes follow, watching where his flesh enters mine.

A change of pace: settling over him, I twist, revolving my hips, winding my hips in circles above him, taking him with me.

Ryan groans. “Christ Jesus…” His eyes squeeze, lips peeling back…

Inside me, his c**k spirals, once more rubbing at my g-spot. The heat pulses through me again and I groan too.

Ryan’s eyes snap open. His smile is wide and bright. “Like that is it? Keep going.”

His colour is rising. The red tide-line on his chest flushes upward, partly concealed by the foam. Sweat beads his forehead. His eyes are dark enough to conceal his pupils, but his gaze is fixed, intense.

Pitching forward, supporting myself over him with my hands on the back of the bath, I meet his mouth with mine. He wraps one arm over my shoulders, the other hand behind my head. Our kiss is deep and drawn out and all the while I move over him. But now, he’s moving with me, thrusting deep, plunging into me.

His grip on me grows tighter. His breathing rasps. Rock-hard and huge, faster he spears up into me. Harder he drives.

I’m yelling out. With every stroke, his swollen shaft fills me, stretches me and rips a scream from my throat which fights its way through our locked mouths.

It’s coming…

Once more… The shuddering… The throbbing… The rising ecstasy…

And I pulse into orgasm once more, this time with Ryan’s arms around me…

He breaks off the kiss. A single gasped word… “Kirstie…” … And with a growl, he freezes under me, his body rigid. He’s hard enough that I feel the pulsing of his c**k as he comes. Grinding against me, his fingers digging into my back, he jerks and shivers his way through climax…

… and with a shudder and a gasp, breaks away, withdrawing. He swipes a palm over his face. “f**k, but that was good.”

He blinks once, twice, then lifts his gaze, dark and intense, to mine. “Thank you… Wife.”

“Thank you, Husband.” I press my lips to his. “Feeling more relaxed?”

“Most of me is relaxing.” I laugh. Indeed, his shaft still presses against my stomach. His face softens. He takes my hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my fingers. “I love you, Kirstie.”

“I love you too, Ryan.”

We stare at each other. Words are irrelevant.

Together…

Man and wife…

The seconds tick by…

A sound…

We both jolt, heads turning to follow the sound…

It repeats: a knock on a door, coming through from the lounge. And a voice: Michael. “Ryan? Kirstie? We’re good to go.”

Ryan grins. “We’ll be with you shortly, Michael.”

“Fine. No hurry.” The voice echoes through. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I lift away, sitting back at my end of the bath. “Well, Mrs Dougherty…” says my new husband… “Shall we go greet our guests?”

”What do you think we’ll find out there?”

“I don't care if we find peanut butter sandwiches and orange squash waiting for us. They've turned the day around.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

*****