Page 10 of Return To Love

Mona’s mouth watered and she wet her lips with a swipe of her tongue. His throat bobbed up and down at the sight. Remembering how hard she’d worked in those early years to suck his cock the way he liked, to deep throat him without gagging.

“My lord?” she said, excitement sending shooting sparks to her sex. She fought against the cuffs at her wrists and ankles, making herself wetter. “What is that thick length? What do you intend with it?”

“That’s your medicine, Princess,” Dom said, stroking himself from root to tip. A thick pearl of pre-cum oozed onto his fingers. He rubbed it over her folds, one finger drilling deep into her pussy. She clenched hard but yet again, he slipped out of her grasp.

She smacked her lips. “I’m ready to drink it up, my lord. Will it cure me?”

A thin sheen of sweat covered Dom’s skin as he cursed at her offer. “I will fill your mouth later. First,” he rubbed the tip over her damp opening, then up through her folds, his chest bellowing like a forge.

“My lord, it aches. This thing you do. Please, enough.” She raised her spine and tried to shuffle her knees on the sheets, as if she meant to scoot away from him.

His rough hands gripping her hips, he pulled her back with a wicked sounding laugh that pinged over her skin. “Not getting away, Princess. Not before I cure you of this heat.” Then, with a deep, rasping groan, he tapped the length of his cock against one buttock.

Again, Mona wriggled and flailed and made a show of escaping.

Fingers digging into her wanton flesh, Dom dragged her to the edge of the bed. When he wrapped his fingers around her hair and pulled, her scalp prickled, her arousal spiking to new, explosive levels.

His mouth pressed against her lower back, he licked a trail to the seam of her ass crack. “This pussy is mine, Princess. To be filled up and used any way I want. If you take it like a good girl, I’ll cure all your ills.”

And then, in one hard, smooth stroke, her alien overlord lodged himself as deep as he could go into her waiting, willing, wet sheath.

* * *

His prize,his queen, his wife of twenty-four-years clenched him so tightly that Dom thought it was a miracle he hadn’t blown his entire load in one stroke.

His breath burned in his chest and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head as she wriggled and shifted, sucking him in deeper.

“Are we done, my lord? And yet, my pain is still there,” she purred, her thick lashes fluttering, her spine trembling under his palm.

“No,” he said, sneaking his hand under her belly and tweaking her clit.

She bucked and arched, thrusting herself into his touch with a sob.

God, how stupid had he been to neglect this divine sensation for his damned work? How had he not fucked his willing wife morning, noon, and night, glutting himself on her body until there was nothing but this bliss?

He pulled away his fingers just as her lower belly rippled and her orgasm neared.

“Please, please…” her whispers were frantic now, growing more desperate with each denial. “Please, my lord. I can’t take this anymore. I will break.”

“No, Princess,” he growled, stilling her frenzy with a soft slap against her ass. Her keening moan filled his tautly pulled balls. “And no, you aren’t breakable. Your cunt squeezes me like a fist, with such intensity. You’re here for me to slake my lust. For me to exercise my demons.”

Then he pulled back all the way and plunged into her with enough force to jerk her up on the sheets.

She cried out—the sound a cross between a moan and a scream—and it fisted his cock like a tight band, as if made for the exact purpose. Sweat drops dripped from his skin onto hers in fat plops.

On and on, Dom drove into her, changing up from short, shallow strokes to deep, lingering ones, just as she caught up to his rhythm. Fantasy and reality blurred as he exercised the pain and disappointment and ache of the last months out on her body. The fear of losing her, the shame of how he had let her down…the long nights of loneliness. He purged it all with each rough plunge into her pussy.

This was what he had desperately needed. And he could see clearly why Mona had come up with this particular fantasy. More than just his desire, she’d needed not to be treated as fragile or broken or less than his perfect woman.

The realization made his chest tight, and he increased his pace, falling over into an animalistic rhythm in his chase of that high. Of that redemption in her curves.

Mona caught up, her spine and hips falling and rising perfectly in tune with his frenzied movements. His name on her lips, a thready whispering chant, caught his attention.

Her eyes wide and damp, hair sticking to her temples, sweat beading over her upper lip, she was all woman.

The only woman he’d ever loved and would always love.

“Please, Dom,” she said, breaking their script. “I want to come.”

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