“I just want what a husband should have. Without any fucking games.”
Her worried eyes dart between mine as she licks her damn lips again. “Are we done playing games?”
“I’m long past them.”
“Okay.” She swallows. “I think I’d like to stop playing them too.”
Her voice sounds so small, so vulnerable, that for a moment I get washed with doubt. For a moment. Until she moves her face closer and presses her lips to mine.
I want to push her away because a rough fuck is all I want, but she presses her lips harder without opening them. Then she starts peppering the corners of my mouth with soft kisses, and I feel my dick getting rock hard.
She moves her hips to get more comfortable, so her pussy ends up right on top of me. It radiates a very inviting heat.
While I’m drowning in self-turmoil, she gently places her hands on the sides of my face and licks my lips with her tongue. I’m defenseless against it, so I just open up and welcome her. After all, I said what I said—I’m here to take what a husband can.
I let my hands move to her lower back and pull her flush to me. She gasps, letting me deepen the kiss.
The more careful her kisses, the crazier they make me. The more I want.
The gentler I become.
Fuck! This is not what it was intended for.
I grab her by her ass and stand up with her in my arms. She holds onto my shoulders, wrapping her legs around me. I move my mouth to her neck while I walk her to the kitchen island where the stupid game started. Carefully placing her on the top, I take a step back.
She’s watching me with eyes half-lost in lust. Her cheeks are red. Her chest is heaving.
She lifts her arm to grab me, but I take another step back, leaving her confused.
“Turn over.”
“W-what?”
“On your belly. Now.”
“Oh.” Her eyes spark with interest as she jumps off the counter, turns around, and bends over it as she spreads her arms in front of her, placing one hand on top of the other. Her leggings-clad ass is waiting for me up in the air.
I walk to her and pull on the waistband of the leggings with both hands, revealing her black, lacy underwear. She helps me get rid of her pants when I bring them down to her ankles. She makes a move to take off her panties, but I stop her by firmly pressing my hand on top of hers. Then, not removing my hand from her body, I move it up and press between her shoulder blades, silently ordering her to stay put. She obeys. Too easily. Giving me the comfort, the control I crave. She knows me too well. The witch.
I unzip my pants, letting my hard cock free. I give it a couple strokes and move to her. She turns her head with her lower lips between her teeth to look at me. When she notices me giving myself another stroke, her mouth falls open, and she wiggles her ass invitingly.
Edging closer, I push her panties to the side. She’s already slick. Ready. I push two fingers in, making her gasp. Giving it a few pumps until she meets me halfway, I replace my fingers with my cock.
She’s so fucking tight, but I’m mad. Impatient. I’m on a path of punishing. So I thrust in. She gasps again, and I stop, overwhelmed with guilt. I can’t even punish her properly. So pathetic.
I push my hand between her body and the marble and find her clit. Gently rubbing it, I wait for her to start moving and give me indication that she’s okay. Because if she’s not, I don’t know what I’ll do.
She’s okay. She starts moving. She pushes herself onto me.
I edge closer and lean forward, covering her body with mine. We’re both wearing clothes. It’s annoying. This barrier between us is annoying. I’m fucking mad. Grabbing the front of her neck, I lift her to me. Her back is pressed to my chest, my hand keeping a firm hold on her neck. While my hips are moving forward, slowly thrusting into her.
She grips the edge of the table with her hands and throws her head back on my shoulder. I start kissing her jaw. Her neck. I bite it. We move faster. She whimpers. Our speed intensifies. We turn sweaty. Sleek.
I put more pressure into my grip and more power into my thrusts. Her knuckles on the marble turn white. My breathing turns quick and shallow. I’m not sure I’m even getting any oxygen because my head is not okay. It’s high and lost in the sensation.
“Harder,” she orders in a raspy voice.
I push harder. Faster.
