Page 141 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“I know,” He continued to play with me. “Can you see, poppet? Can you see how good we look together?”

“Yes.” It was all I could manage to say as he rubbed himself over my throbbing entrance. If he didn’t get to the good stuff now I would scream the house down in frustration. A girl had needs, and I needed.

Matt had his gaze on our reflection, a devious curl to his lips as he watched me battling the sensations he was inflicting. “Whose?” he queried gruffly as he pushed in, just barely.

“Yours, damn it. Yours.” I yelled.

“Mine.” he stated fiercely and shoved every inch of his hardness inside me.

My face in the mirror, the expression on my face was almost comical and a touch embarrassing. This was how I looked when Matt sexed me? Then my gaze dropped to where we were joined and a groan hissed past my parted lips at the sight. Taking his time, Matt pulled out halfway. His cock glistened from my body’s lubrication. Another whimper came from me.

“Mine, you’re mine, never forget that. Mine.” His strained passion-laced words were punctuated by determined thrusts. Sure and deep.

All I could do was watch as he vigorously pumped in and out. He was perfect, every inch of him was perfect. Long, thick, hard. He felt so good inside me, so fucking good. No longer caring every bit of me was exposed, I matched his strokes, arching my body in time with his. Earth shattering, mind bending, toe curling, sweaty; sex. Matt was my sex god and he was about to come. I loved when he did this, deliberately exploding inside me with the sole intent of setting offmy own orgasm with his spasms between my inner walls.

“Mine.” he growled in release, holding me up against his warm body as the orgasm rolled over me. “Bloody look at us.” he demanded.

My eyes had squeezed shut from the wave of pleasure coursing through me. They flew open at his harsh directive. And honestly, my come face wasn’t as embarrassing as I thought it would be. I looked a bit feral, but who didn’t? We stared at each other for a few charged moments, both breathing heavily and dazed from our orgasm. I didn’t know what to say, probably couldn’t construct a sensible sentence anyway. Matt observed me in the mirror, his gaze skimmed over me and a look of complete satisfaction settled on his face as he eased out my throbbing flesh.

“Whose come is dripping out of you?”

My eyes widened at his blunt words before squeezing shut as I twisted my head sideways, unable to watch anymore. Matt wasn’t having it. With a gentle hand he gripped my chin and turned my head front.

“Open your eyes and answer me,” he murmured huskily. “Answer me, poppet.”

“Yours.” I whispered.

“That’s right,” Matt said while helping me stand properly. He turned me around to face him. “Mine. Don’t ever allow a situation where someone else touches what is mine. Are we clear?”

I nodded once, fully aware of the squishiness between my legs.

Matt brushed the back of his hand across my cheek. “I’ve told you once before, I’m a complete bastard. You are my wife,my wife,” The gold flecks in his grey irises seemed to burn intensely. There was fire in his stare as we observed each other. “Don’t ever betray me and never forget what I’m capable of.”

I held his gaze, suddenly annoyed at his behaviour. Matt was so dominant, and I usually gave way to his domineering traits; but his words jarred something inside me. Using my left hand, I slipped it into his wavy black hair and yanked his head towards mine without heeding his surprised grunt. Pressing my lips firmly over his, I ravished them. Sucking and biting hard enough to drag another grunt from him.

“You’re mine too,” I exhaled noisily. “And don’t you bloody forget that either. Now, unstrap my fucking shoes so we can go to bed. I’mtired, my shoulder hurts, and I’m fed up with being dragged to these parties. No more, Matt. I’m serious, no-fucking-more.”

Matt blinked a few times, eyeing my countenance before raising one eyebrow. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

“Shoes.” I was tired. It was time for bed and I had no idea how to explain to Dante about my bum shoulder.

Matt abruptly swept me up in his arms and quickly began walking out the closet. “Keep them on. We’re not done.” Damned sex machine!

Punishment. The definition of the word was the infliction or imposition of a penalty as retribution for an offence. I was being punished but remained unsure over the exact offence committed. I had an idea why, yet I refused to believe it was the root cause of the state of my marriage.

And Matt, my sweet knight, oh he knew how to deliver the cruellest form of punishment. But I swore no tears would fall from my eyes. I had cheated frigging death at the age of six, was a successful black woman, my tears were precious.

Tracing abstract patterns over Matt’s bare chest with my fingers as he watched a documentary distracted me from my dismal thoughts. We were in the entertainment room lounging on that uncomfortable sofa, well, I was lying on top of Matt while he rubbed circles across my back.

“Hon,” I called.

“Mmm?” Matt didn’t look away from the huge screen.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked quietly. I’d been thinking of the best way to get to the bottom of the reason for my punishment. It had been three weeks and the method proved elusive so I’d decided to just come right out and ask. What was it they said? Ask and ye shall receive.

Matt made an exasperated sound before adjusting me into a better position on top of him. “No, poppet, I’m not mad at you. Now can I please watch this?”

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