Page 53 of The Hitch
"I love it so much, so much—please—" I almost see stars when she slips my cock past her lips and buries me to the hilt in one fluid motion. She is an angel. A demon. A succubus. She rolls her hips and rocks me in and out—there's no way I'll be able to hold on long enough to makehercome. "Fuck!"
"What, you don't like it?" Melody whispers in my ear, giggling a little.
"I love it! Please, Melody, I'm your good boy—but I can't hold on forever, I'm going to—"
"Shh, baby. Come in me. Breed me. Fill me up." She leans back, allowing me the perfect view of her heaving breasts as she rides me like a goddamn stallion. I lean forward myself, unable to keep my teeth away from her soft flesh. She gasps as I latch onto her breast and my arms encircle her ample waist. "Such a good boy, using your teeth like that—yes!"
Every bite is followed by a reverent kiss as she rocks her hips along my length. She draws out my orgasm like she was made for it, made forme. Strung tighter than a bow string, I snap when she slams back down and grinds her pelvis against mine. I can'tfeel anything but my cock—I can't see anything—all I know is that I'm cominghard,and Melody praises me for every drop.
"You're so good, Dante. So good. That's right, give me everything, my good, good boy." She runs her nails up and down my arms, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my flesh. On the verge of overstimulation, I gently push her back and slide her to the floor.
My god, she looks like a succubus. Those big brown eyes stare up at me in the dimming light, her lips swollen from my rough kisses. I love it. "But I didn't make you come, love."
"That's okay—" She averts her gaze, but I cut her off.
"No, it isn't. Hands or tongue?" When she doesn't give me an answer, still shyly looking away from me, I press in further. "I said, 'hands or tongue?'"
"Is tongue okay?"
Is tongue okay. I scoff and give her a sharp look. "Don't ask stupid questions. Sit on my face."
Her mouth flops open like a fish as she shakes her head. "No, I'm too big—I'll hurt you."
"If I die, I'll die happy. Now sit on my fucking face, wife."
Without waiting for her answer, I shimmy to the floor and lay my head at the foot of the couch. She carefully swings a leg over my face and hovers just out of reach.
"No. I meansiton my face. Brace yourself on the sofa and sit on my face before I make you," I command, and she finally lowers herself all the way. Her musky scent fills my nose, and I groan a sigh of relief. My wife's soft thighs envelope my ears, blocking out all sound. This is perfect. She's perfection. Fucking hell, I absolutely love her.
I swipe my tongue between her lips and revel in the taste of our combined arousal. We taste so good together. Just like I instructed, she braces herself on the couch and tilts her hips, angling her sweet cunt perfectly on my mouth. Her clit throbsbetween my lips as I catch it and swirl my tongue around the delicious little bud.
My wife's soft thighs shiver and quake as I coax her orgasm closer. She rocks her hips along my tongue, making sure the pressure is just right for her tastes. I am her fuck toy. I am her good boy. And I aim to be thebestboy she's ever had. The only good boy she'll ever have. She is a hundred percent mine forever, especially if I have to—getto—eat my way to her heart.
I snake one hand up to my face and plunge my thumb into her cunt, angling it perfectly to hit her perfect spot while sucking her clit over and over. Just the way she likes. Before long, and I wish it was longer, she squirms at my touch, and I feel her walls constrict. The orgasm hits her like a freight train, and I smile into her beautiful pussy. She's right. Iama good boy.
Melody gently clambers away from my face and lies down on the floor next to me, catching her breath. I pull her close to my chest and play with her hair in silence, absolutely blissful.
"Am I still your good boy?" I whisper.
"Oh, Dante. You are thebestboy."
With my wife sleeping next to me, I lay awake and stare at the darkened ceiling. White matte paint stares back at me, not a chip to be found.Good boy. Holy hell, thatreallygot to me. I suppose it's to be expected as an Ivy-League boy, overachiever, destined for greatness my whole life. Of course I have a praise kink. I can't believe it's taken this long to figure out.
I can't let her go. I'll need to have the contract nullified. But the thought of keeping her against her will makes my stomach roil with guilt. I never allowed myself to think about it, or maybe I didn't want to think about it, but I want a life with her. With this spitfire woman. Idowant her to have my children. I want herto be happy with me. Raise our babies with me—babies, plural, because there's no way I could stop myself from knocking her up over and over.
As many times as she'll let me, to be honest.
Beyond that, she fits in perfectly. My savage woman, my murderous wife. She saw me slice up Chad like a Christmas ham and didn't go running. She didn't rebuff me. Shejoinedme. And she fucked my brains out in a pool of his blood. I smile at the memory and glance over to her sleeping form, admiring her peaceful expression. So beautiful. Sosoft.
I make a silent vow: I will never let her go.
Melody
I'm late. My period is officially late. I didn't take the test when Marie and Helena told me to, but I feel like I can't put it off any longer. Dante is sure to notice—he tracked my last period before the appointment with Doctor Hamish. But one in eight pregnancies ends in miscarriage. The statistic rolls around my head, knocking loose emotions I didn't know I had.
Fear. Anxiety. Dread. What if this is the one in eight? I've never been pregnant before; I don't know how my body will handle it. And how will Dante handle it? Will it hurt him? Willhe feel the same sense of loss? I don't even know if this is real or not, not yet, but I'm already scared. I never thought this would be something that I'd want so badly. Call it Stockholm syndrome or whatever, but Idowant this.
But maybe it's for the best that I don't know for certain. I'll wait another week or so, see how it goes. If my period shows up, then it was a fluke. And if it doesn't… I guess that's that.
