Page 90 of The Rejected Wife

"I’m going to take your remaining virgin hole. I’m going to own you, baby. Possess you. I’m going to make you mine."

That’s so filthy. And forbidden. And soeverything.It detonates a line of fire to sizzle through my blood and straight to my core. My pussy contracts, as does my back hole. He must feel it, for a groan tumbles from his lips. "You’re so tight, baby. So perfect."

Then he pulls his fingers out and slaps my butt with enough force that I rise up to my toes. I squeal. I can’t help it. That was so sudden, and it stings, just enough to cross that threshold into pain which doubles as arousal. Enough for my thighs to clench. And when he rubs his palm across the smarting skin, goosebumps pepper my skin.

"Oh God." I allow my head to hang and grab the cushion placed on the seat of the chair for support. Then, just as suddenly, he snatches up the sunscreen. I hear the crackle of the bottle being squeezed, then something cool trickles down the valley between my butt cheeks.

"Tyler," I gasp.

"It’s going to be good, I promise." I hear the whisper of cloth against skin and know he’s kicked off his swimming trunks. He slips a finger inside the tender hole between my arse cheeks. It stings a little, but that soon gives way to a sensation that shouldn’t feel pleasurable, but oh, it does. He adds a second finger, and when he curls them inside me, my entire body jolts.

"Oh God. Oh God." I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to keep pace with the sensations that crowd my senses. I feel like I’m burning up, every cell in my body filled with combustible material that spreads the flames faster than tinder in a forest fire.

He saws his fingers in and out of me, opening me up. And when he adds a third finger, spreading me wider, I groan. He hits a spot inside of me that pings waves of awareness into hidden corners of my body that I never knew existed. My skin vibrates, and my toes curl.

"Tyler," I cry out, seconds before a climax squeezes my body. I shudder and whimper as I float down. My muscles relax. My arms and legs feel heavy. He pulls his fingers out of me, and I feel empty. I begin to protest, but the next moment, he replaces it with something much bigger. Much blunter. Some corner of my brain tells me I should be alarmed, but I’m too drugged on pleasure. He grips my hips to hold me in place and thrusts into me.

I moan. He fills me up in a way I didn’t think was possible. All of my senses are focused on where we’re joined. On where he has me well and truly pinned down with his cock. Then he leans over me, pushing my hair aside to kiss the side of my mouth. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm." It’s all I can do to gather my energy and nod. But it must satisfy him, for he straightens. Another push, and he slips into me further, then again.

"F-u-c-k," I hear him growl. "You feel incredible."

I’m too taken in with the strangeness of the sensations building inside me to answer. He pulls back enough to stay balanced at the rim of my forbidden hole. Then he punches forward and, this time, slips all the way in.

His balls slap against my slit, and a surge detonates deep inside me. My clit throbs. My nipples tighten. My whole body sharpens. Every nerve, every breath, every thought—on fire.

And when he hits that secret spot inside of me, I feel like a rocket ready to go off. The pressure inside me builds, tightens, begins to spill over to my extremities.

Like I want to. The pressure coils tighter, reaching my fingertips, my toes, my soul.

He grabs my breasts, squeezes, pinches—sending tremors through me. Then his fingers slip lower, rubbing over my clit.

It’s not just sensation anymore—it’s lightning. Every touch ignites me. I moan, breath stuttering. I’m unraveling.

I’m right there. Right at the edge.

Then he leans over me, his voice low, rough, his command anchoring everything that’s about to break.

“Come with me.”

And I do.

I splinter apart in a perfect storm that claims every part of me.

I’m dimly aware of screaming his name as I tumble over the edge. And then, his groan as he follows me over. Unable to hold myself up, I slump, but he wraps his arm around my chest and holds me up. He pulls out of me and liquid trickles down my thigh. A mix of both of us. Then, he scoops me up in his arm and kisses my forehead. My eyelids flutter down, and darkness pulls me under.

* * *

When I awaken, I’m under the covers. Dim light slants through a crack in the curtains. I stretch, and my muscles protest. I savor the soreness that comes from being well used by my husband. Which, in turn, reminds me of how exactly he delivered on his promise to do very scandalous things to my body. I sit up, wincing when unmentionable parts of my body twinge. Yet, I also feel rejuvenated. Energy courses through my veins. It’s like I’ve stuck my finger into an invisible source of vitality.More like he stuck his source of vitality into me.

I chuckle to myself.

"What’s so funny?"

"Wha—" I whip my head around to find he’s seated in a chair next to the bed. He’s wearing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt.

Dusk fills the room with a silvery light, but his face is in darkness.Did I sleep the evening away?I must still be recovering from the intensity of what happened between us earlier. The intensity of it. The jet lag. It all must’ve knocked me out.

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