Chapter dedication goes to all my readers.
Readers' discretion is advised as this chapter contains explicit languages and scenes.
"Do you really want to know?"
His face crinkled frettingly. Orla bobbed her head in affirmation. She couldn't be more sure, she knew what she wanted.
But why was he feeling indifferent? He didn't plan to ruin this moment for them, right? She rubbernecked him with cynical sentry.
"Are you worried about something?" She glimpsed how he shifted his gaze away from her, steering his eyes to the ceilings.
Nothing riveting was up there to glance at. What was wrong with him again?
"No, nothing." He feigned a small smile that dissolved as quickly as it formed.
"What's wrong with you, Callan? We were happy a few moments ago. What's with the gloomy expression?"
Worry burned in her tone as she looked at her husband. She detested that he was still consenting to the culpability of cheating on her.
She had forgiven him for crying out loud.
"I am good," came his curt response.
"Callan,"
"Hey," he smacked his lips to hers abruptly, dissuading her from asking more questions. "I am very good. I just miss you so much, that's all."
He hugged her and his hands charmingly caressed her back, halting every once in a while to fondle every contour he could lay his hands on.
"I miss this," he grunted, pulling away from her. He motioned between them as if he was seeking her consent.
"You can have me all to yourself."
He looked at her, there was no glint of desperation in her eyes. As badly as she wanted him, she sounded so reserved, so soft.
She trusted Callan with her body. Whatever he did to her was perfect. His touch was quintessential, his tongue devouring her was nonpareil. Everything he did was smooth.
Orla stood there, anticipating the nasty and wild things he would do to her. Thoughts of those things alone made her wet, she pressed her legs together, embarrassed by her reaction when he hadn't even touched her.
"I want to take off your clothes myself. Just stay here and watch me do it."
Her heart softened. She had missed this man, more than so much.
She stood still, heeding his instruction.
Callan stepped forward, eyes on his wife. His heart was pounding loudly against his chest, he had never been so crazy about a woman. No woman had that effect on him, but Orla.
Whatever she did to him was flawless. The feeling was beautiful and he wanted it to last for as long as he lived. He loved every moment with her, his only regret was hurting her.
He shouldn't have.
He slowly pulled her zipper, exposing her bra. He admired her body for a split second.
"Perfection," he muttered when he loosened her bra and her breasts popped out in full force.
The bouncy boobs stood firm, the swollen pink nipples pleading for him to suck on them.
He smiled, sizing one of her boobs in his hands. It fitted faultlessly. A proud smile flashed across his face. He owned her, these were his. He owned them all, every part of her body was his and his only to explore.
"Perfect," he muttered again, scuffing her nipples with his long nails, but careful not to hurt her.
"You are so perfect for me, Orla."
She was about to talk when he pinched her nipple so hard her words wafted into loud moans. He smiled, letting go of her.
"You missed this, don't you?"
He tapped his fingers rhythmically on her skin, planting kisses on every area of her neck to ignite her desires.
"I do," Orla shuddered. She could come if Callan continued to dabble with her like that. "You are the perfect man for me, Callan."
He chuckled lightly.
"Are you saying this because you want my dick in your little pussy?"
She squirmed. Those nasty words turned her on even more.
"I said those words because that's the truth."
"Did someone touch you when I wasn't there?" He creepily slid his hand into her skirt. He felt the dampness of her panties and let out a sly smile. "Huh?" He brushed the tender spot between her legs causing a whimper to leave her.
All these while, Orla was still standing and she was getting almost frustrated. Callan was smiling too much, neglecting his duty of satisfying her.
"No one did," A groan left her. "Callan, you're the only man who's ever touched me." She added for him to get to work already.
"Orla, I adore your body and I will treat you with care,"
His hand lingered on her nub, flattening her folds with his skilful fingers. She cried out and held onto him. Callan supported her weight with one hand and took the other up to explore her boobs.
"I missed you," he slowly placed her down on the bed, her back positioned on the headboard.
He climbed onto the bed, his weight impacting the bed.
kneeling before her, he continued, "Everything about you, Orla." One of his hands circled her boob, his eyes on her for a few seconds. "This," he kissed her lips before filling his mouth with her nipple.
"Callan—"
She shut her eyes when Callan's mouth met with her hot nipple.
"We shall savour every moment, Slow girl."
She nodded. Then he resumed his duty, his mouth on her needy nipple, sucking her off, lightly biting, intensifying her arousal. She remained on the bed, her insides squealing with excitement.
It never got old with Callan. No matter how many times he touched her, she still felt the giddiness like the first time.
Her second nipple called to him as if he knew what she wanted. He released his mouth from the almost numb nipple and closed his mouth around the second nipple.
It was hard, hot, fitting his mouth as he sucked her off. He tried to be gentle, but her body was so perfect and was doing something crazy to him.
He grazed his teeth around her nipples and lifted his eyes to look at her. "Do you like this?"
Orla nodded her head. Whatever he was doing was excellent. "Please continue," she wasn't certain those words left her mouth, but for all she knew, she uttered them.
She rubbed her thighs together, squirming. Callan separated them as he lowered his head to her thighs.
Callan was still clad from head to toe. She looked at him, confused. She should satisfy him too.
As if on cue with her thoughts, he said. "Let me satisfy your dirty cravings, Slow girl."
"That little cunt is mine and I will do with it whatever that I want," his thumb pressed against her lacy panties, rubbing her folds from inside.
She shut her eyes, holding onto him for support. She was losing it. She had lost it.
"You're so ready for me, Slow girl." He kneaded his fingers through the wet material, touching her wet pussy every once in a while.
"Callan, I." Her eyes were bleary.
"You what?" He halted, eager to listen to her. "You want me to stop this? If you want me to stop, I will."
She gawked at him with an absurd smirk. He is fucking with her.
"Slow girl, do you want me to stop?"
"Oh, Callan. Why are you doing this?"
She brought her legs closer, but Callan yanked them apart, directing his finger back into her skirt.
"Just say the words," he rubbed on her clit from the wet lacy material and immediately let go. On and off, he continued messing with her. "Do you," he repeated the same thing.
When Orla wasn't having it, she looked at him, almost yelling. "Don't stop."
"Good, and I won't."
"Do you want me to take off my skirt?" Desperation was fused in her tone.