Page 111 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

My pleadings though have little to no effect on him. “Look how wet this pussy is.” He skims two fingers over my flesh, gliding up and down, scooping wetness on his way, and my pussy clenches, wishing he’d enter me instead of torturing me. “Begging to be licked and sucked.” He bites my lower lips, making me jerk in his arms, and my toes curl. “Let me oblige it then.”

That’s all the warning I get as he drives his tongue deep into me, my moan reverberating through the space as my husband widens his mouth on me, holding my hips tight.

He swirls his tongue inside me, pushing deeper, all while I clench around him, sucking him in and never wanting to let go. He presses his thumb to my clit, creating double sensations that send me flying into the abyss where only pleasure and maddening need exists.

Scorching heat travels through me in waves over and over again as he replaces his tongue with two fingers, stretching me wide while his tongue licks up and down my lips before circling my clit. He then traps it with his teeth and sucks hard.

I sway forward, gripping his hair harder, raising my hips in tandem with his movements, grinding on his tongue as he continues to fuck me with his fingers, allowing the inferno burning inside me to blaze in epic proportions, consuming my entire being.

One. Two. Three times he enters me, and then his fingers slip out, but he once again replaces them with his tongue, roaming between my folds, eating me out as if I’m his favorite meal.

“Remi, please!” I cry out, the desire pouring from me and fogging my mind, running toward the bliss on the horizon as it becomes hard to breathe.

Just when I’m hovering over the edge, with pleasure almost at my reach, he repeats his question again. “Who do you belong to?”

I bite my lip, still refusing to tell him, and whimper in distress when he continues to lick me yet does so in ways that only agitate me and give me no release.

Pressing his head to my core, I pull hard at his hair, making him hiss against my flesh, which sends a jolt of electricity through me. “Make me come, Remi.”

The words sound so dirty on my lips, but by how he growls against me, I know he appreciates them.

He gives me two more long licks, from top to bottom, before wiping his face on my navel, the act turning me on even more. For a second, I wish his cum marred my skin, marking me in the oldest way and combining right along with my juices.

He skims his lips upward, nipping my stomach before moving up to the underside of my breast. Then he’s flicking his tongue over my nipples, the lust cocooning me more, and he lavishes them with attention. He moves upward once again until he reaches my mouth and kisses me deeply, sharing my taste with me.

I circle his neck, pressing tight to him and rocking against his hard-on, needing him so much it sends an ache all over me while my body practically begs to be fucked, used, and abused by him, as long as it puts an end to this torture.

The kiss turns lazier and lazier till he just gives me a peck and then pulls at my lower lip. He steps back, and I watch him lower the zipper on his jeans, the sound making my entire being buzz, and he fists his cock, jerking it off with a few strokes.

“Remi, please.” I lick my lips, wishing to wipe away the precum leaking from the tip with my mouth, but he clacks his tongue.

“Too late for that, chérie. I’ll fuck this mouth soon though. You’d love it and then beg for more.” I put my hands on my breasts, which only adds to the blazing heat burning me from the inside out. “Completely at my mercy while I teach you to take my dick deep in your throat.” Before I can even blink, he spins me around, ordering, “Hands on the wall.”

I do as he says, leaning forward and probably exposing myself to him, and he kicks my legs apart, making more room for himself.

The seconds tick by while the thrill and lust mix together within me, spreading like a wildfire and promising reprieve from this passion urging me to jump over the cliff and reach for the invisible bliss.

And yet my husband does nothing, so I beg, “Remi, please.”

He comes closer, his hot breath on my skin while heat surrounds me, making me still the moan ready to erupt from my throat, and I resist the urge to squeeze my legs together to give myself some kind of friction or I might just go insane.

“Who do you need, Penelope?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his cock against my opening, pushing in a little but then leaving me wanting him while my nails dig into the wall, my mouth gasping for breath. “Who makes this pussy so wet?” A slapping sound echoes when he smacks then clenches my ass cheek, the contact making my core contract and weep from his absence. “Who makes my dick so hard I can barely think straight?” The last question sends a jolt of relief through me, because it shows I’m not alone in my need.

This lust that consumes me and knows no bounds holds him prisoner just as much as me, and in this, whatever we experience here is only ours to share.

Special.

I belong to him, but I think… I think he belongs to me too, and despite all odds, truth, and reality, this knowledge makes butterflies erupt inside my stomach.

“I do.”

“And who am I?”

Licking my dry lips, I respond, “My husband.” And I cry out when he grips my hips and enters me with one swift move, my back arching as my splayed palms push against the wall, keeping my balance while pleasure spreads through me. He thrusts back and pauses, so I say again, “My husband.” He drives into me harder and rougher than the previous time, powerful waves washing through me over and over again while he keeps the rhythm, thrusting in and out of me while sweat sticks us together and drips down my back. And then a word slips past my lips that I do not expect. “Mine.” Just the idea of another woman enjoying him like this sends me into a spiral of rage as possessiveness eats at me.

One second, he is inside me, and the next, he spins me around, catching my gasp with his mouth, kissing me deeply as he lifts me up. My legs wrap around him, and he slams into me again, stretching me to the brink as our tongues dance around each other, adding to the madness consuming us with each drive of his hips.

My nails mar his skin, leaving my own marks on his tan flesh, and he groans into the kiss, stroking our tongues while driving into me.

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