Chapter 19 #2
She moaned—soft, needy—her hips shifting for more. But I didn’t give in. Not yet. I pulled back, letting just the tip remain inside, then pressed in again, slower this time, savouring every flicker of her response.
“You’re so sensitive tonight,” I murmured, brushing her hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck. “You take my cock so well in this tight little arsehole. I own every inch of you, my little toy.”
She whimpered my name, clutching the sheets, her body caught between tension and surrender.
I dragged my hand up from her waist to her chest, cupping one soft breast and letting my thumb brush across her nipple. Her gasp hit the air like music, and I kissed her shoulder again, slower now—luxuriating in every sound, every tremor.
“Please,” she whispered. It came out hoarse, like her throat had already been worked raw from earlier.
I placed my hand on the back of her neck, standing upright before pulling back to leave the tip inside her arse.
And waited.
“Silas… I can’t take it.”
She buried her face in the bed, her voice muffled now.
“I need you. Please—don’t tease. Don’t make me wait.”
Each word came out more desperate than the last, like the ache inside her was swallowing every last shred of control.
“Keep that hole open for me,” I rasped, and drove forward until my balls smacked her cheeks.
“Yeah. Just like that.”
Her cry tore through the room as she clenched around me.
“This is what you wanted,” I growled, hammering into her with deep, punishing thrusts.
A sound escaped her—half gasp, half moan—as her fingers twisted in the sheets.
Whenever I felt her tighten around me and saw her eyes flutter shut, I slowed my pace—just enough to keep her teetering. Holding her there. Making her beg. I kept her on edge, teasing us both, until the need became too much and I drove into her again, harder.
Her arsehole was soft and open for me, taking every inch like she was made for it. She held her position, obedient and desperate—my wife, my toy, my good girl.
Utterly ruined.
When she came, her scream ripped through the room, and I gripped her hips to keep her steady as I kept moving inside her, chasing the high she dragged out of me. Her whole body shook with release.
Then I saw it, she’d squirted all over herself and our marital bed—the perfect inauguration. I held steady, waiting for her tremors to stop.
I pulled out slowly, savouring the view of her gaping and twitching arsehole. Then I flipped her onto her back—had to see her face, her lips, the way her chest rose and fell like she’d just run a marathon.
My fist flew along my length, fast now, frantic. Her gaze followed every stroke as if it were her own personal show.
She didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
She knew exactly what was coming, and she wanted every last drop of it.
I began to grunt as my balls tightened. She was mine.
My come blasted out, shooting over her pussy and belly. Thick and white. My mark.
I groaned, every muscle pulled tight, jaw clenched so hard it felt like my teeth might crack. But I didn’t care. Not when she looked like that—wrecked. I didn't stop until her pussy was covered with my come.
She’d taste us both tonight.
I released my cock to press her thighs open, bending down, I teased her, dragging my tongue through her folds. Her whimper didn't stop me. It spurred me on.
I tasted us—tangled in heat and salt, the evidence of everything we’d shared. With everything gathered in my mouth and the lingering taste still on my tongue, I moved above her.
Her eyes widened, then softened as her gaze dropped to my mouth. She smiled and opened her mouth for me—no hesitation, no shame.
Just that pretty tongue, arched and waiting.
I hovered above her, staring down like a man on the edge of a cliff. She wanted this—my taste, my claim—like it was a promise she craved.
I let my come drip.
Slow. Controlled. A thin ribbon of heat passed from my mouth to hers. It landed right on her tongue, and her eyes fluttered like I’d just kissed her soul. She waited until my mouth was empty, then swallowed. Deliberately. Proudly.
And that was it.
Whatever tether I had to logic, to control, snapped clean in half. She took everything I gave her—and begged for more.
I cupped her jaw, stared down into the eyes that undid me daily.
“You’ll never belong to anyone else,” I rasped. “You were made only for me.”
She ran her tongue over her lips, deliberately slow.
“Was I better than my mother?”
My body went still.
“What did I tell you?” I growled, curling my fingers around her throat as I leaned in. “We don’t mention her in this room.”
Her eyes gleamed with mischief.
I kissed her hard, claiming her mouth until I felt the tension bleed out of her. When I pulled back, she was smiling—smug, and provocative. She lived to test me.
“You know damn well how far gone I am for you,” I said, tightening my grip just enough to make her pupils flare. “No one will ever compare. Ever.”
When she complained about not being able to walk tomorrow, I’d remind her whose fault it was.