The Lover's Children

Chapter 26 - Winter Wedding #25

KIRSTIE

Steadying myself on Ryan’s shoulders, knees splaying, I lower myself, sliding down easily onto him.

The head of his cock nudges at my entrance, but as I’m about to take him inside myself…

“Ah-ah… No, you don’t. Not yet.”

“Ryan…”

“You might be on top, but I’m in charge. I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready. And that’s not yet.”

“Ryan…”

“No, raise yourself again. I want to see you… No, not like that… Kneel all the way up. Arms up too.

Reach for the ceiling.”

Obediently, I raise my arms. Water and froth stream down my skin, trickling down my neck, through my

cleavage, over my belly.

Ryan leans back, takes his champagne glass, dewy with chill, and sips. “That’s a handsome sight, I

have to say. My beautiful, new, naked wife.” He raises the glass. “Want some?”

“Hmmm, please.”

He raises it further, to my mouth, tilts the glass, lets me drink. “That’s enough for now. Don’t want to

waste it.”

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 nipple.

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 nipple. 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 nipple.

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 clit.

“… 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 sexual torment… You in sexual torment… And I intend to see the benefits of

my efforts.”

“Ryan, I want you inside me. I want you to fuck 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 pussy 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 clit, 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 clit. 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 fuck 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?” This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

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 clit.

“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.