Page 52 of The Worst Pucking Deal

It looks awkward for her to unclip the bra and slide the straps down her arms through the sleeves, but she does it and when done, throws it on the floor with a sinful smile. Then she straddles me while fisting my base, angling the tip toward her soaking cunt. Instead of slowly lowering herself, she slams down on me, completely sheathing me in her heat. Lucia tucks her legs beneath her and begins to move up and down on me, and I groan, loving the way her tits bounce in the sweater.

I’m tempted to have her take it off, but decide against it. There’s something so fucking dirty about fucking her while she’s wearing it. “Faster,” I groan, reaching under her sweater so I can palm her tits.

Throwing her head back, Lucia moans loudly. She begins to move faster, angling her hips so my pubic bone adds stimulation to her clit. I squeeze her tits, unable to just lie there while she fucks me so good. Every time she comes down, I thrust up and into her.

“Fuck… Lucia. Fuck!”

“Sawyer,” she cries. “Please… I need to… I have to—” she cuts herself off with a desperate moan.

I find her nipples and pinch them. “Come for me, wife.” My tone is so fucking husky. “Come all over my cock. Soak me in your wetness.”

A tingling sensation builds from my groin to my spine, building as my balls tighten. “Fuck,” I curse, viciously. My entire body tenses, and while I empty myself into the condom, Lucia cries out and her cunt holds me in a vise grip, not letting go until I’m spent.

Lucia collapses onto my chest, and before I know what I’m doing, I wrap my arms around her back, holding her closely. All I can hear are our panting breaths and the thundering beat of my heart. Fuck me, I don’t remember the last time I came that hard.

I reach for the condom and slide it off, careful to keep my jizz inside it. Then I tie it into a knot and throw it toward the bathroom door. I’ll deal with that shit in the morning. I’m way too tired and comfortable to move right now.

Once our breathing returns to normal, I ease her to the side and lazily move my hand up and down her back. That’s how we fall asleep; a married couple, with her head on my chest and her leg thrown over my hip.

I wake up with Lucia still in my arms. I can still smell her wet cunt, the scent lingering heavily in the air. De-fucking-licious. No wonder I have a raging boner right now. But it’s more than that. Her body fits perfectly against me, making me feel all… content and at peace.

Without a word, I roughly push her away. I don’t fucking cuddle. I’m a fuck them and leave them kinda guy, and just because the world thinks we’re in a happy relationship doesn’t mean I’m okay acting like it behind closed doors. But with the way my body’s reacting and my thoughts focusing on how good it feels, my brain isn’t getting the memo that the marriage isn’t real. So it’s time to end it. She complains in her sleep, but I don’t pay attention to her words, and instead of hanging around, I lock myself in the bathroom.

There’s a dull ache in my muscles from last night’s game, but the euphoria of the win courses through me, driving away any hint of discomfort. As I shower, I think back to the game. It wasn’t even a hard one. Well, not as hard as we thought it was going to be. But a win is a fucking win.

Getting dressed, I head to the kitchen. My stomach is growling for food, and I consider ordering a big fucking meal from somewhere. But decide against it, not wanting to wait for delivery. So I throw together some eggs, bacon, and toast. The sizzling of the frying pan almost masks Lucia’s quiet footsteps.

“Good morning,” she chirps. She looks sleepy, her red hair in disarray, but she’s still wearing the sweater from last night. In other words, she looks amazing. Having her around like this is definitely something I could get used to.

Fuck, no. There’s no getting used to anything. This. Is. Not. Real. It isn’t real now, and it’ll never be more than a fucking sham. So no matter how sexy she looks, or the fact we’re legally married, this has to stop.

“You hungry?” I ask, and when she nods, I crack a few more eggs open and add more bacon to the mix. “Coffee’s ready.”

She wordlessly opens cupboards, looking for my cups until I sigh and point to the correct one. She pours us both a decent amount before asking, “How do you take yours?”

“Black.”

When I’m done with the food, I carry it over to the island where she’s sitting, opting to stand opposite of her instead of sitting.

“Why are you still wearing that?” I ask, pointing at her sweater. She’s put on a sorry excuse for panties that barely cover her ass, but her legs are bare.

She frowns around a piece of bacon. “I thought you liked it.”

I run my hand down my face and reach for my coffee, gulping it down. “It’s not game night, so you don’t have to wear my number. Besides, didn’t I tell you to be naked when you’re in my apartment?”

Hurt flashes across her green eyes, but she lifts her chin up. “Fine,” she snaps. Red spots break out on her neck and chest, probably from anger.

I don’t look away while she pulls it off. Fuck me, her tits look biteable. I really should have made her take the sweater off last night. Oh well. Tilting my head to the side, I look at her. “And your panties.”

“Don’t push me, Sawyer,” she growls, and dammit, it’s hot.

“Are you going back on your word already, wife?” I don’t even pretend to hide the fact I’m eye-fucking her so hard as she slides off the stool and tugs her panties down. “There we go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I say, secretly loving the daggers she glares at me while she sits her perky ass back down.

“You’re such a jerk,” she hisses.

I shrug because she’s not wrong. “You didn’t think anything had changed because of last night, did you?” I know I sound like a condescending dick, I just don’t care enough to do anything about it.

“Why would I think that?” she asks saccharinely, baring her teeth. “Because you kissed me? Or because you were actually somewhat… nice? Or maybe because you married me?”

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