She sat on the bed before him, a smile on her lips. She shuddered with lingering pleasure from her last orgasm. He gently pushed a finger into her swollen vagina and watched as her lips parted in a soundless moan. Pushing his finger into her more deeply, he stopped, watching the different emotions that played across her beautiful face. As soon as he had his finger inside her, it was gone. Crying out in protest, she wantonly pressed herself to him. He laughed and gently pressed her back. Bringing his finger to her lips, he rubbed her top lip and then her lower lip, slowly, from side to side, lathering her lips with her own nectar, with the smell and taste of her own need and arousal.
"How do you taste?" he asked, his voice filled with raw lust.
"You tell me."
"With pleasure," he said, before he lowered his head to her mouth, his lips finding hers. His tongue licked her top lip, sucked on her bottom, and then pushed into her mouth, searching and seeking hers.
As they kissed, she found his hardness in his jeans. Unzipping them, she freed his penis from its cruel barrier and lovingly cradled him in her hands. He groaned into her mouth. Still kissing, she moved until her lower body was off the bed and she was semi-standing. Sliding him into her, they both let out a cry of pleasure.
He rocked against her, his manhood deep inside her.
She moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him completely and fully inside. Her eyes widened as she gasped and tossed her head to the side.
He slammed into her before withdrawing, almost leaving her, she whimpering in protest. His fingers touched her lips as he told her to be quiet – he wasn’t going anywhere. Then he slammed into her again, more violently yet never hurting her. She grabbed for his shoulders, her breath taken away from the sudden force of him. She was not in pain, yet she felt afire. Nothing felt better, however, than this.
He could never hurt her; she was his wife and lover – all in one. She was his.
***
Later, after they had spent themselves against the front of the bed, they lay in the bed, she asleep in Jay’s arms.
He moved slightly, turning towards the nightstand and picked up something, something long and light. Turning back to his lover, he moved the feather down her arm slowly, lightly. After a minute or so, she moved in her sleep, murmuring. He only smiled and continued to her breasts, the tip moving in small circles around her nipple. She moaned and arched her back, moving around in the bed. Soon, her eyes began to flutter open.
“A feather moment,” she said, not as a question but as a simple statement.
He just smiled and continued with the feather. Quickly, her eyes grew heated with desire and lust. Her tongue darting out to moisten her lower and top lips. It trailed over the bottom, the wetness glistening. His eyes were glued to her tongue and lips, the feather falling to her thighs. She gasped and he blinked back from insanity. Then they both were looking at the feather and her thighs. She felt herself swollen with need. The feather pleasurable yet taking her to the brink of madness. She needed release and now.
“Do you want me?” he asked.
