Page 82 of Hostile Bond
I keep my mouth open and obey while he fists the base of his shaft and continues to stroke himself, up and down, hard and punishing, ensuring every drop of his warm cum lands on my tongue.
“Swallow it, Wifey. There’s plenty more where that came from, so your wet little cunt won’t be jealous.” He laughs darkly, looming over me.
“Touch me,” I whimper, his presence sparking my blood cells with wicked energy, and his sexy rumble of laughter making me feel alive.
He suddenly backs up and puts a measure of cold distance between us, his muscles tense, his forehead creased into a sexy frown, and his lips pouting as he thinks. I gingerly roll onto my stomach, climb onto all fours, and sit upright to face him, wiping the last of his cum from the corner of my mouth. “Dré…”
André fixes his gaze on my injury, studying the stitches and tender flesh, then folds his arms like he’s putting a barrier of brawn in the way. I scoot off the bed and pad to him, hunting his inky pools swirling with dark lust and crowned by ice white. I’m hyperaware of how he’s holding back.
“I asked you to touch me. Is that a problem?” I reach for his hand and suck his wedding finger into my mouth, watching his throat contract as he swallows.
“If I put my hands on you, Wifey, it’ll hurt. I can try to be gentle… but it's just not in my nature… and when you’re at my disposal… the impulse to bite, suck, and fuck hard takes over.”
“You know the baby can’t feel a thing, Dré.” I blink at him. “It’s the size of a peanut.”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “It’s not the baby I’m worried about. It’s that...” He points to my knitting flesh. “What if your stitches come apart while I’m throwing you about?”
He exhales, stiffly poised, a savage hunter trying to figure out a new method of hunting. The smell of him, so manly and natural, lures me into his snare. Moonlight hits the carpet from outside the window, casting half of him in darkness, giving him an edgy aura. My personal devil kissed with remarkable beauty.
“Get on the bed, Dré.” I tug his hand, my heart pounding when his bare feet move with me. “It’s your turn to lie flat on your back.”
“You’re a horny little wife, aren’t you,” he muses. “If this goes wrong, use your safe word.”
His naked form moves across the bed like a predator, giving me the best possible chills. “I trust you.”
Following, I join him and sit on my shins beside his taut legs as he lowers to his back and puts his hands behind his head leisurely. His proud dick stands at attention all over again, relentless in its pursuit of fucking me. I lick my fingertips and trace them over the bulbous crown, loving how it sends goosebumps over his thighs.
“I don’t want you to be gentle, Dré. We can find a way to fuck that works for us in the meantime.”
He lifts to his elbows. “I’m listening.”
“We’ll try as many positions as we can…” I shiver. “Until… we find the right one.”
Rising to my knees, I turn away and straddle his abdomen, my ass facing the headboard––and his eyes. Finally, his large possessive hands land on my skin. The sensation of harsh kneading fingers on my buttocks welcomes an unholy reaction. Whimper-like groans escape me as I grow wetter and hotter, craving carnal satisfaction.
“I love how my wife is so hungry for my dick.” The thick, approving grunt he offers makes me breathless. A domineering hand snakes up my spine. “Sit on it like the dirty little wife you are and fucking soak it.”
A loud smack connects with my bare ass. The sharp echo of glorious punishment cuts the atmosphere with my tattered gasp. Hot, wicked pain spreads across the flesh, bringing a sting of greed with it. I glance over my shoulder, desperate to capture the darkness swirling in his eyes, so I can jump straight in and drown the sadness in my heart under his mastery.
When our gazes collide, he offers me the most devastating, heart-stopping, lazy grin. “Hurry the fuck up and sit on my dick, Wifey,” he rasps. “Or I will throw you down onto this bed and fuck you myself.” His voice easily slips into the shadows, the tone hoarse as if he’s bargaining with the devil inside of him to afford patience.
With his dick before me, I lift upward and shuffle over the top of it, taking a quick breath before spearing my vibrating pussy with the only thing it craves.
A second slap collides like a flaming belt, swift and sadistic. “Good girl.” He runs a dominant hand over my burning flesh, inviting uncontrollable prickles.
I start to grind on top of him, helped by harsh fingers digging into my hip bones. But it's not enough for my wild husband. He needs control—demands dominance.
From below, he elevates his pelvis and pumps into me, taking charge. Before I know it, he’s sitting upward, his solid chest flush with my spine, one hand around my throat, and the other squeezing my right breast. I’m locked in place, on his lap, unmoving as his dick fully fills me.
His whiskered mouth is by my ear, the coarse hairs igniting millions of miniscule grenades all over me. “Touch yourself. Let me watch you ride me in the bathroom mirror.”
Directly across the room, the ensuite door is open, and a wall sized mirror reflects the two of us like a cinema screen in the distance.
The mounting arousal within me captures my breath, my attraction to him ferocious. As he slams me up and down, I wildly rub my clit, the stimulation and visual show lifting me beyond the depths of heartache and mourning. From the tingling slap marks on my ass to his throaty grunts, it’s all a jumble of wicked sensations so intense that I start to shake.
My screams come easily when he thrusts upward, rutting in deeper as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder. “That’s it, Wifey, come for your husband.”
Endless pleasure surges through me, its force aggressive and consuming. I can’t stop the raw moans scraping free of my throat, because my surrender to him is all that matters in this moment. Not the niggling pull of pain in my side, the wisps of grief in my soul, or the fact we’re in the home of my enemy. No, it’s because he is my lover, my best friend, and myeverything.
