30. Tyler #2
“It’s humorous you think I’m ever letting you go,” I mutter, rolling my neck to ease the tension that forms whenever she reminds me of her damn timeline. With a glance her way, I lower my voice and grit out, “How about you show me just how wet you are?”
Ava sucks in a breath and whips her head in my direction. “Right here?”
“Yes. Spread those legs, dip your finger in, and show me.” When she still hesitates, I grip her thigh and pull it toward me.
She walked out of the studio without pants, just the leotard and her sweater. If I hadn’t been there, I can guarantee she’d have put them on. It’s freezing out, but the woman does stupid things to taunt me, and now that she’s taken it this far, I’m not letting her pull back.
“Come on, Vicious. Don’t get shy on me now.
Tease me like we both know you want to. Torture me.
Don’t shut down on me.” It’s a plea for so much more than just another intimate moment with her.
These games we play are my salvation. They give me hope that the two of us can have more than just the stipulations we first agreed to.
It’s in these moments that I feel most at ease.
I like the pain. It means I can still feel.
That I’m not as dead inside as I once was.
When we come to a light, I shift and study her.
She’s got her lip caught between her teeth, and she’s watching me just as intently.
Like she’s reading my every thought. Good.
Let her figure it all out. I’m not hiding anything from her.
I lick my lips and rev the engine, growing impatient.
The instant the light turns green, I hit the gas, making the tires squeal and Ava’s head snap back against the headrest.
With a throaty laugh, she teases the edge of her leotard with a finger.
Cursing, I glance from her to the road.
“Pull that little strip of fabric over and show me how you glisten for me.”
“And Benoir,” she purrs.
“Fuck Benoir and his fake French name,” I growl as jealousy burns in my gut. “It kills me, hearing his name on your lips, baby. Makes me want to fill that mouth so you can never speak it again.”
Her throaty moan has me whipping my head in her direction again. I’m just in time to watch as she stuffs two fingers into her cunt.
“Oh, fuck. That’s my dirty wife. Yes, soak those fingers. Get ready to taste yourself.”
The desperate noises she makes as she fucks herself with her fingers has me swelling until my dick is threatening to split my zipper.
I’m racing against the clock, trying to get us out of the city and to the back roads before I come in my pants, and I haven’t even touched her.
Her whimpers, the wet sound her body makes as it suctions her fingers, her every sound ramp up my heart rate until my blood whooshes in my ears.
“Get the toy out of the bag next to you,” I beg her.
She’s too enthralled, too far gone, riding her fingers, knowing the torture she’s doling out, to obey.
I dip my hand into the bag and pull out the toy I’ve already removed from its box. When I flip the switch, her eyes fly open, and, chest heaving, she studies it.
“Come on, baby. Put this inside your tight cunt. Let me watch you ride my present.”
Pupils blown wide, she whines. “No, show me how much you want me, Tyler. Set it against your balls and come with me.”
A bolt of electricity arcs through me. This woman wears a demure disguise so well, but she’s fucking filthy.
“That what you need, baby? Need me to make a mess to show you just how much I want you? How I’ve been dreaming of you?”
As I press the vibrator to my already aching balls, I jolt.
Knowing there’s no way I can focus on the road like this, I take the next exit.
I don’t care where the fuck we are, but in two seconds, she’s going to be riding me, and I refuse to let a single person see my wife as the dirty whore I need her to be.
We’ve barely made it into a wooded area when I throw the car into park, unbuckle her seat belt, and drag her over the center console and onto my lap.
“Shit,” she pants. “What are you doing?”
“Fuck me, Vicious. I need you.” While I move the seat back, I take her mouth in a rough kiss and drag her over my cock so she can feel just how fucking gone for her I am.
She bites my lip, and with a mumbled no , she pushes back and rolls her hips in the most intoxicatingly beautiful way.
Between the sight of her, the way she slides over my dick, and the vibrator still pressed to my balls, I’m hit with a wave of dizziness.
But I refuse to blink. I refuse to look away from her.
Instead, I focus on her hips and the way they dance against me like they did less than an hour ago when she was with fucking Benoir.
“Look at you, baby, just as desperate as I am. Did he do that to you? You think he’s got a piercing that will make you scream?”
Eyes closed, she moans, lost in the pleasure.
“He got your name tattooed above his balls? Did he mark himself for you?” I taunt, gripping her hips and rolling her over me.
“No, it’s your husband’s cock that keeps you wet.
Your husband who branded himself yours. Forever, wifey.
That’s what I’m telling everyone. I’m forever yours and you’re forever mine.
Now admit it, Vicious. Tell me how much you need me, and I’ll fill you so good you won’t be able to walk tomorrow, let alone dance. ”
“Shh, keep taunting me, and I’ll have to figure out a way to shut you up,” she teases, sliding her fingers into my mouth, feeding me the taste of her pleasure.
I’m sucking them clean when she detonates, pulsating on top of me. In this moment, I know I’m done for. Because like a teenage boy, I come in my pants with her taste on my lips and a smile on my face.