“Slower,” I say with false restraint, given I’m anything but calm.
The intensity of my gaze slides to her breasts, so fucking perky and plump, taunting me to bite them in quick succession. She notices my scalding stare, lifts her hand to the left nipple, and squeezes.
Fuck.
“Your instruction was to turn at a slower pace, not to touch yourself for undeserving gratification. Do I have to come over there and tie your wrists together? However, that would make it exceptionally difficult for you to crawl to me.”
Her eyes trail over my own nakedness and her core clenches. The subtle spasm of her tummy muscles doesn’t escape me. Keeping her head up and her arms by her sides, she rotates with the attitude of a red-hot flame. Her movements are brazen, yet disciplined, lit up from the rising sun, so she appears all powerful.
“Good girl.” I breathe the words. “Again. Only this time, bend over and spread your ass, so I can see the tightest hole of all.”
A sexy little scowl darkens her features, adding to the thrill of my control. “What if I don’t?” she says bravely.
Being held under her inquisitive stare makes the air around me sultry and dangerous.
“Do you want to feel the burn of my hand across that round ass of yours? I bet your soaking pussy would want more and more until your skin catches fire. If you want to feel it now, all you have to do is sink down onto all fours, crawl to me, and kneel at my feet.”
Our dynamic is set in stone. I’m in control and she has to forget all about her plans to use me.
“How about I do both, Husband?” she taunts, just before her little feet lift one after the other.
She pivots, spreads her legs, and bends over. Bringing a hand to each of her pearly smooth cheeks, she pulls them apart and reveals her glistening folds. My heart rate spikes in the silence between us, the atmosphere throbbing with her need and mine.
I sit forward on the couch cushion and set the bottle by my heel. At the same time, she straightens and angles back to face me. Her eyes latch onto mine, darkened with lust. I’ve never been so poised for a physical attack before. Not to brutalize, but to fuck myself off the cliff she’s dangling me from.
Without another word, she lowers to her knees and slowly sets her hands on the rug. The way she watches my reaction has my dick planning all sorts of violent deeds. She skates her tongue over her bottom lip and the state of my dick turns painful.
I want to fucking ravage her.
And I will.
Without mercy.
Without tenderness.
Without giving her my cum.
Bracing myself, my gaze follows her every movement. Seductive hips purposefully sway to lure me under her spell, and sumptuous tits jiggle. Her spine curves with kittenish dexterity. I’m not above enticement from a beautiful woman. However, the wild desire in her avid stare matches my own on a level I can’t explain. Nor do I want to consider it.
This is punishment. Simple. Carnal. Except, for some reason, it feels like my own sentence instead of hers.
When she reaches my bare feet and sits back on her heels, my self-control shreds. Breathing hard, I lunge at her, cupping her cheeks to stare right into her big eyes.
Our noses graze. Tiny puffs whisper over my face as she gazes back at me, the intensity between us thick with need.
“Open.” Fingertips skate to her mouth, careful not to disturb the bruising beneath it. As her lips part, I shove my forefinger and middle finger inside and explore the toxic warmth. “No cum for you tonight, Wifey.”
This little minx knows what she’s doing, especially when she closes her lips around my digits and hums. My nostrils flare as I inhale; the way she teases me is criminal.
My intoxicated veins are working a thousand times harder to portray this extraordinary level of self-discipline. The effort makes my head thump and my mind run away with itself.
I remove my fingers and settle back into the couch. My knees are wide apart, and my dick is lying heavy against my stomach. She squeezes her eyes shut briefly, and when they reopen, all I see is desire.
Is it real?
Memories of my teenage self engulf me in my alcohol-laced trance. I was never good enough in my father’s eyes, always one step below Tommy, his one true heir. Not quite reaching the heights of worthwhile praise.
Eventually, I stopped trying to please him. As time passed, I didn’t care for anyone else’s opinion. Even Reno and Letterman understand that if I don’t agree with their advice, then I do things my way.
