Page 175 of Jensen
“I’ll be prettier with you squirting on my face, baby,” I say.
She moans, head falling to the side. Her thighs lower until she’s an inch over my mouth. We’ve done this before, and we both know what I want. I kiss her thigh then bare my teeth and sink them into the soft skin. She writhes, spine twisting, body shaking with effort to hold steady.
“You are a needy little bitch,” I tell her, sliding my hand around her thigh to her ass.
“Oh God,” she bursts out. “I need to come.”
Pain is a hot throb down my spine. The heels of my boots grit in dry rice. Her cunt is so close, I can almost taste it, hovering an inchfrom my lips. I wet my fingers and slide them in, parting her pussy, dipping into her tight, hot wetness. Her hips pulse, pulling me deep.
“I’m going to fingerfuck you,” I say. “And you’re going to come on my face. Understood?”
“Yes,” she gasps, shivering.
I go hard on that spot inside her cunt, and she shakes so hard, it takes only a few seconds before I have to hold her up with one hand. Little whines slip out from between her teeth.
Give it to me.
Her spine curls. She’s so goddamn tight around my fingers. I’m stroking, coaxing hard. I see it, even in the dim light, the way her cunt tightens.
Take me. Wash me away.
Her spine locks. My eyes close, and I feel it flood over me, hot and tasting of my wife on my tongue. It hits my face, my mustache, spattering over my face and neck, soaking the rice around my head.
She sinks down onto my face, pushing me hard into the rice and spikes beneath my back. Pain grounds me, keeping me from going over the edge most of the time, but tonight, it’s too much.
Pleasure runs in a wave through my body, and there’s a harsh accumulation of it behind my zipper. A flood, a dam breaking.
“Oh God,” she whimpers. “Untie me.”
Face still in her cunt, I undo her binds. Her nails scrabble at my belt, tearing my pants open. Her hot tongue runs over me, cleaning my cum from my cock. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and sometimes, I can’t hold back, but that’s never mattered to her. She takes all of me, fuck-ups and everything.
Her pussy pulses on my lips as she pushes my cock to the back of her throat, loving me the way I need.
There was never anything sick, nothing twisted, in me to begin with. Della made me understand that. Here in our bedroom, she indulges my fantasies, and I hold the space for hers, every single one. Even the ones she’s embarrassed to say aloud.
In this place, we’ve both finally let go of the past.
It will always exist, but it doesn’t control us anymore.
I pull myself from between her thighs with difficulty. My skin burns as I peel it off the mat. Despite having just come, I need to be inside her, to look in her eyes, to feel her in my arms. I lift her, carrying her to the bed. We tumble back against the headboard, both shoving off the last bits of clothing as we go.
I push her thighs open with my knee and sink into her pussy.
“Yes,” she breathes, lids flickering.
My hand grips the nape of her neck, steadying her body so I can fuck her. Her nipples are twisted, hot and red. I know her clit aches—I feel how she’s gripping me against the pain.
“Come for me, baby,” I urge. “Come on my cock.”
I unclip her clit, and she cries out at the release. My fingers stroke over it, slick and swollen, teasing it the way she likes. She’s so wet, and the sound has me rock hard.
“Hit me, baby,” I pant.
She hesitates. She always does. I grip her throat, rutting my hips. The look in my eyes cows her, forcing her to obey. From the corner of my eye, her hand blurs. The pain explodes, and I’m rock hard, right on the edge.
Our mouths are so close.
“Blood, baby,” I breathe out. “I want to taste blood.”
