His love language wasn’t exactly the same. Often not kind or sweet—his needs were usually selfish, and self-serving. But pleasing. He craved her. All of her. At every second of any given day of the week. She was always on his mind, and so were the things he wanted to be doing with her. Whether that was bending her over the closest flat surface, or watching her read for an hour while she laid in his lap. Whatever it was, he wanted it—she was his; she said so—and he greedily took all of it from her.
But ...
There was always a but.
Vaslav could be unhealthily obsessed with the time he consumed of Vera’s attention. As she, and people she loved, kindly pointed out to him. Her mother had done it while his mouth was full of food she made that he thought was to die for. Vera, on the other hand, had delivered the news in her own special way. While her smeared lipstick still stained the base of his cock.
He was trying to be better about it all.
Just not tonight.
It was his wedding night, too, after all.
Vaslav figured that counted for something, even if that, too, was selfish. So be it.
The very second Vera had crossed the room, clearly knowing his plans and not finding a problem, she sealed her fate. She’d tumbled, laughing breathlessly, into his lap. She was always as needy and greedy for sex as him, and frankly, he loved it.
Loved her.
“We’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before somebody comes looking for us,” he’d mumbled against their first messy kiss.
Fifteen minutes was just enough.
Vera had no shame about turning her back to him in his lap. Straddled over either side of the chair with her feet high on the armrests, she didn’t say a thing about her beautiful gown or how he might ruin and wrinkle the silk when he yanked the heavy skirt up around her waist. No, she just wanted to be touched. Rocking wantonly into every graze of his wandering hands, moaning when he rubbed her how she liked overtop her panties while he kissed up the side of her neck. She was all too willing to help them both by lifting up for him to do his business.
With her bent over in front of him, he could see she was already wet right through the cotton gusset of her white lace panties. It only took a little maneuvering on his part to get his pants unzipped and shuffled down enough to get his cock free.
Already hard and aching.
She shimmied her ass against him when he pulled her white lace panties to the side, and yanked her hips back down, sitting her onto his cock. He speared into her slick heat that enveloped him in the heaven between her thighs. She wiggled, full of him. The gasp she made when she seated down on him was a sound he’d like to replay on repeat.
“Good Christ,” he uttered against her trembling shoulder, praying and praising at the same time. Why was it always so good? He’d fucked her that morning, too. Before her friend showed up just beyond an ungodly hour with promises of a special breakfast. Vera had emptied him, then, too, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted it all again. As soon as they were done—he could already taste her tartness and feel how warm she’d be when she came dripping on his lap like this.
It had a way of making her rain. Something about the angle she liked. It was a good thing the den connected to the rooms upstairs so he could at least change fast.
Vera hissed when he shifted her up and down on his lap, grinding his dick harder and deeper inside of her. But she didn’t shy away from the overfilled sensation he knew it caused her. Instead, she shoved back into him, a silent demand for more.
“You love it when I do that—don’t you?” he asked, taking a taste of her skin between each and every word. “When I take you first, nothing else,” he groaned when she initiated the next push and pull between their connected hips. All it took was the flex of her inner muscles to make him fucking weak. “My greedy girl—you like it when it’s my cock that opens you up.”
Vera’s laugh was light, high, and sweet when she breathed back, “It only stings a little.”
Yes.
And she liked that, too.
So wet that every stroke of his cock into her cunt brought with it slippery sounds, one of her hands fell between her thighs. Her fingertips stroked between their sensitive, meeting bodies. Teasing him when she lifted to stroke his cock, slick with her juices as he pulled out of her, and then sighing when those same fingertips toyed with her clit when he slammed back into her.
He might have ripped the thin netting of her white stockings when she rocked harder onto him, but she didn’t appear to mind.
“Hurry up—put those fingers of yours to use,” he told her. “You better come before someone knocks while you’re fucking squealing.”
Her fingernails dug into his left thigh where she had previously found stability. Sharp and pinching, it only earned her a chuckle. “I do not squeal.”
At that, he outright laughed.
“You just had to go and turn it into a challenge, kisska, yeah? You still have to tell them all goodbye. Should have thought of that.”
3.
“How is your honeymoon so far?” Claire asked, the very first question she had after greeting Vera when she picked up her mother’s call.
Claire couldn’t see the way Vera’s face flushed with heat, and she was grateful for that. There was only one way to describe the past few days as a newly married woman to a very particular husband: insatiable.
“Well?” Claire pressed at Vera’s silence.
“Where’s Papa?” Vera returned, cheeky on purpose.
Claire laughed. “Never mind, then. That tells me more than enough. Someone’s keeping you busy.”
What else needed said?
“Yep,” Vera replied, happily.
“As Vaslav should,” she thought her mother said back.
Vera couldn’t be sure of Claire’s final words for their conversation because the crackle of static over the speaker as it was passed over to someone new cut out the last bit of the reply.
Her father spoke next.
“I wasn’t quite far enough away not to hear that, anyway,” he mumbled as Vera cackled.
“I thought you were sleeping—really,” Claire insisted in the background.
“Trying to,” Demyan grumbled. “Someone loves to make phone calls first thing in the morning. In bed with her husband, too.”
As Claire had been the one to call her, Vera didn’t pay much attention to the early morning hour until her father mentioned it. As a child, she could remember his motto about not rolling his ass out of bed before nine, if he could help it.
Life, kids, and duty often got in the way.
Then, she had another thought.
“Shouldn’t you be up already?” she asked her father. “Don’t you have lunch in the city this afternoon?”
Silence answered her question about a lunch he might not have known she had any clue about. A lunch she only had the details for because Vaslav had also intended on attending until the low-grade migraine he’d been suffering on and off with for a couple of days finally came to it’s unbearable peak. Not even the medication meant to sedate him had helped the night before.
He wasn’t in any state to go anywhere. Even if the worst of it had finally waned, leaving the two of them soaking in the jacuzzi tub in the very wee hours of the morning where he explained about the lunch he was supposed to attend the next day.