Page 29 of When the Last One Falls
“Is everything okay?” His thumb started running across my lower lip, and I couldn’t believe how I’d gone from an angry, independent, intelligent, prideful woman to this pathetic puddle of hormones.
“She’s worried about my parents’ spending habits,” I answered. “She thinks that they’re under the impression that you’re going to keep bailing them out.” I let out a low whimper when Brantley slid his thumb in my mouth.
“I’ll talk to them,” he offered. “I’ll make clear what my expectations of them are.” With his blue eyes blazing with heat, he ordered, “Suck.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to protest because my jaw was also sore from the way that he had fucked my mouth last night, but that newfound weakness inside me wanted to taste him again. So, like a good girl, I sucked his thumb.
After a few seconds, he pulled his thumb from my mouth, then ordered, “Show me that ass, baby.”
My entire lower half clenched. I knew that I looked horrible after last night. Not only was my hair a matted disaster and my makeup a faded catastrophe, but I felt sore enough to know that my pussy and ass were both a swollen mess. Brantley had cum inside every orifice last night, plus he had also cum on me, smearing his release all over my skin. Refusing to let me bathe afterwards, I knew that I looked like a used whore this morning.
Still, that didn’t stop me from doing what he’d ordered. Dressed in only his button-up from last night, I was bare underneath, Brantley having destroyed my underwear as soon as we’d gotten home.
Positioned on my hands and knees, I felt Brantley’s hands begin to knead the soft globes of my ass, but I also knew that the gentleness wasn’t going to last long. I’d found out last night that Brantley was a spanker, and I’d also found out that I liked to be spanked.
He only got three hits in before he was growling, “I can’t wait.”
My hands fisted in the comforter, waiting for him to stretch me open again, wanting it like I had no shame. When I felt a bead of spit hit my sore, used, puckered hole, I closed my eyes as my heart began to race. It was going to hurt like hell, but I still didn’t move to deny him.
Like I’d unleashed a monster, Brantley said, “I’m fucking your ass to teach you never to crawl out of my bed in the morning again.”
“I didn’t-”
“We’re moving your shit into my room today, and that’s where you’re going to stay, Keris,” he said as he worked more spit into my ass. “I will not be waking up to an empty bed again.” Sliding two fingers deep inside me, he softly swore, “I think I’m addicted to fucking your ass, baby.”
There was nothing to say to that. I had spilled all my secrets, giving him the key to the kingdom, and I’d never acted so recklessly before in my life. Brantley knew that I liked it rough, he knew that I enjoyed pain with my pleasure, and he knew that I got wet when he took it from me. I’d managed to marry the one guy that got off on what my twisted mind enjoyed.
I cried out as he worked the head of his cock into my ass. Brantley was so big that I was going to have to buy lube if he really was addicted to fucking me up the ass. While I could take the excitement of the forbidden in the heat of the moment, the next day was something else entirely.
With his hands gripping my hips, Brantley started sliding in and out of my ass, his grunts turning me on. There was something so inherently sexy about hearing a man moan because you were the source of his pleasure.
“Christ, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned. “I’m never going to get enough of you.”
My hands were tugging at the comforter, my teeth biting the inside of my cheek. Still, moans and whispered pleas were begging him for more. I’d never considered myself a masochist, but maybe I was. Maybe I was because I was getting off on how rough Brantley treated me.
His hand slid under my neck, and when he pulled me up, my back against his chest, his other hand immediately found my pussy, and two fingers slid in with ease as Brantley double penetrated me, driving me fucking insane.
His voice was a low growl in my ear as he said, “Whatever you need, whatever you want, I will always do whatever I need in order to be that for you, Keris.” I almost started crying. “Don’t ever let another man touch you, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you both.”
I came so hard that white spots danced behind my eyes and blood rushed through my brain, causing an instant headache. I came so hard that I didn’t care anymore how wrong this was.
Chapter 20
Brantley~
Keris was passed out upstairs in our bed, and I really didn’t have time for this shit. By the grace of God, things had changed between us last night, and there was no way in hell that I was going to let anyone jeopardize that, my father included.
When we’d gotten home last night, the part of me that still had hopes of getting into Heaven had shrunk in absolute horror with how I had manhandled Keris. Still, as God as my witness, the rougher that I’d gotten, the wilder she had become. She loved being pinned down, and my dick couldn’t get enough of that shit. Keris liked being used, and I was willing to bet my left nut that no other man had ever discovered that about her. Hell, she still seemed like she was trying to adjust to her newfound sexual proclivities, and I planned on being there every step of the way for her.
So, my father calling me with shit that wasn’t any of his business was threatening to ruin my mood. By Monday, I planned on having Keris moved to my room, the condo sold, us living as real husband and wife. With everyone having seen us walking out of that restroom at the Birch Center, no one could argue that this wasn’t a real marriage. Keris had looked wreck, I had looked satisfied, and anyone with a working pair of eyes could see what we’d been about.
When I’d woken up this morning without her lying next to me, I’d felt a few seconds of panic, not going to lie. I had immediately thrown on my sweats, then had gone in search of her. Me fucking her sore ass really had been to make a point, though the pleasure had been both of ours. I also got off on knowing that no one would ever suspect that such a beautiful, cultured, refined, elegant art museum curator loved to have her pussy taken without permission.
Only I knew that.
“Are you listening to me?” my father snapped.
“I don’t know how many fucking times I have to tell you that my marriage is none of your business,” I snapped back.
