But now—now she’s my captive, trembling and defenseless. I can smell the scent of her arousal. So fucking hot and needy.
Jesus fuck, my blood is pumping faster than my brain can cope with. Sinéad is oblivious to the torture she’s subjected me to—the continual unsatisfied boner I’ve had to endure—the unorthodox desire I’m suffering from. This affliction is far from strategic. It's an insufferable torment—a lust so primitive that it has its own source of pain.
In the semidarkness, I reach for the specialty candle which smells as sweet as candy. She squirms when I linger over her, impatiently waiting for what comes next. However, when I tip the candle and let melted massage wax drip over her juicy tits, she shrieks.
“What the fuck is that?”
“You have such a dirty mouth, Wifey. I’m going to stuff it full of my cum tonight and make you say the word cum while it dribbles from your lips.”
Embarrassment creeps over her cheeks. As the wax settles on her porcelain skin, it trickles and spreads. I’d applied the oil beneath, so it’s easily removed when I’m finished. I continue to drizzle the molten liquid over her tits and let it leak all over her belly, the look of it similar to spurts of creamy cum.
“Jesus—Dré—it’s hot,” she whimpers. “What is it?”
Her head moves from side to side. A second later, she thrusts her hips wildly to try to get free. I smirk to myself, knowing the skin beneath the landing spots will turn red. That’s the plan. Contentment in the knowledge I’ve branded her ass, tits, and even left a hickey on her neck. And once I’ve claimed every tight horny hole, I’ll be satisfied that I’ve stamped my mark on her.
Straightening, I set the candle on the nightstand and scoop up another ice cube from a fresh whiskey tumbler. Her cheeks are perfectly pink, her legs wiggle with eagerness, and her breathing is quick and erratic. I follow the map of spilled wax, running it over the top to swap out the temperature. A low mewl gives away her confused delight.
“Dré…” she breathes my name, thick with need.
I love how goosebumps rain over her bare flesh and those sexy moans she makes test my threadbare restraint. I’ve known myself to rashly lose interest in foreplay midway through and move straight to the fucking. Most of the time, sex is a quick fix for an oxytocin hit. After having so many beautiful women, I’ve learned to fuck without emotion or attachment, resulting in a less than full throttle desire. I do it for instant gratification. Nothing else.
However, from the second Sinéad walked back into my life, I knew she'd sunk her motherfucking nails into me again and I wondered if I’d really been free of her. These days this woman turns me on without even trying. My unyielding boner has become a major hassle, more or less fueling my hotheadedness. I could slap her tits until the wax breaks, or I could straddle her face and dangle my swollen balls over her lips, commanding her to inhale them.
Rather, I climb onto the bed, leaving the ice cube sitting in her belly button, and throw her legs over each of my shoulders. It doesn't take long for her to gasp when I part her wet folds and drop my mouth, ravaging her pretty pussy. My lapping tongue feasts on her arousal.
“H-holy fu-fuck…” The words claw from her throat in tatters.
The taste of her mellow essence covering my face is exquisite. Unique in flavor, it’s the very thing that gives me electric chills. I plunge two fingers where my dick begs to visit. Her tight inner walls clamp around the intrusion as if she never wants them to leave.
I lift my head and stare at her wax-splattered tits as they rise and fall. Those engorged nipples dare to provoke me. Her lips are parted, and her eyes are still covered. It instantly annoys me how she can’t watch me eating her cunt. That behind the barrier she could be imagining another guy. Motherfucker.
The realization springs to life with an incurable possessiveness. Pushing into her thighs, her knees lower outward while I tug at the soft belt. Blinking lashes help her adjust to the dimly lit master suite.
“Eyes on me,” I order and reposition myself at her weeping entrance.
She moans when my mouth returns to her drenched pussy, grinding into my face to signal desperation. “Do you want to cum, Wifey?”
“Yes,” she breathes the plea. “Please…”
Please—a beg rife with hunger and need.
Sinéad jerks the instant I latch my mouth around her clit and finger-fuck her as if it were my dick. I continue to devour, anticipating the body shudders when she falls off the edge.
“Fuck!” she screams, as if she doesn’t know how to deal with the waves of pleasure jolting through her. “André…” A ragged exhale carries my name in that motherfucking erotic accent, and then I’m a goner.
Certain her climax has subsided, I lift my head and fist my painful boner, furiously stroking it from root to tip. Normally, I’d fuck and fuck until she’s raw. Except the heart pounding arousal I have right now is on a short timer; the fuse close to detonation.
So I jerk myself off while her gaze flits all over me and find pleasure in the waxy artwork that decorates her abdomen. My own release comes hard and fast, cum spurting over her pelvic bone and beyond.
My chest rises in bursts like I’m a maniac who’s committing murder. Adrenaline sprints through my veins, forcing out a savage growl that startles her.
Fully emptied, I let her legs fall away. Collecting the cum smothered ice cube from her belly button, I arch over and push it past her lips. “Suck it,” I order.
She does and makes a point of licking her lips too. My vision distorts. I crash my mouth onto hers, stuffing my tongue inside to rally the thawing ice back and forth while we mix her juices with mine. Our teeth bite. Our lips war. I taste coppery blood andus.
It’s both hot and cold. Slippery and aggressive. A savage kiss, unlike any other. Sure, I’ve licked, sucked, and bitten pretty bitches before, but this sensation is blowing my fucking mind.
I’m hard all over again. Painfully ready to demolish her cunt and she’s wrapping her legs around my waist on a dangerous quest for something far more gratifying. However, this lesson of authority has a sharp-edged dagger to slice her hunger into tatters. I call the shots. Me. And I want her dripping and aching for it. When the time comes, it’ll be on my terms. Not hers.
