Too old.
Too tall.
Too rich.
Too out of my league.
That's Aryan Arora, the billionaire CEO for me. But apparently, he is the perfect marriage material guy according to the world's pushiest parents of mine.
Getting married was neve...
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A single finger ran through my dripping core before I saw him sucking the release off his finger, with his hungry gaze still peering up at me, probing for my response.
A lazy grin tipped up my lips, my cheeks still painted with heat from the aftereffects of my orgasm. A husky voice drifted, shaky and dizzy, "You look good on your knees, husband."
His face flared at the taunt, his eyes dilating to the point where I could almost see my reflection in the black abyss.
With his touch gently dragging up and down my thighs, the languid note in his tone seemed to tighten the strung nerves of my body, "Not as good as you would look, when you will be begging me to fuck that smart mouth."
A graphic image flashed in front of my eyes at his dirty words, daunting my mind. Unnerving yet Enticing.
My dumbstruck eyes met his amused ones.
His fingertips traced devious patterns inside my leg, slowly flitting upwards and finally reaching the searing softness between my thighs. He was gentle and tenacious, teasing and tormenting till I was brimming with need, my heart thudding loudly in my ears. Feeling the subtle, scalding pressure of his thumb caressing the aching flesh, I shuddered. The pleasure was too much to bear. It was almost painful. I was already too sensitive.
The tip of his tongue wandered through my tummy before he murmured, the low resonance of his voice making my body clench, "I have never done this before. Guide me through this, okay? Tell me if something feels amiss."
My hands knitted through his hair, making him look up at me. I bent forward to kiss him, pouring my every tender emotion into it, and then mumbled, near his lips, "It already feels amazing, Aryan. More amazing than anything I have ever felt before. You don't have to do anything more."
He smiled against my mouth, sighing, and then claiming my lips once again in a fervent blazing kiss that left butterflies fluttering through my belly. The arousing pressure of his finger traced small circles, barely brushing my core, searching through the soft folds.
His touch was so in contrast to mine. It was rough yet felt gentle. His fingers were longer, wider, and calloused. More stimulating. More skillful. More sensual.
When his finger delved deeper, there was no friction to the entry but I still stiffened at the intrusion, that burned my inner muscles, making it difficult for me to breathe.
Aryan's gaze was soft and worried when he asked, continuing to stroke my insides firmly, stretching me further, "Too much?"
"A little lighter right now," I breathed in, "Harder when I am about to come." He stroked a little gentler, yet as firm and attentive.
