Chapter 5 Knight #3
Mesmerized, my eyes drop to the splatters of wetness on the floor.
Stepping forward, I bend down and run my finger through the mess, wishing I’d recorded the whole thing so I could watch it again.
The entire house is rigged with security cameras, but I was distracted with what Octavia needed and forgot to activate them when I reset the alarms before I brought her up to our room.
Later, I’ll set all the cameras in here to continually record, but I’ll reroute the data to be sent to a remote server, just for me.
Waiting outside the door, I contemplate entering the bathroom, but decide to give her some privacy. I’m half expecting her to be wrapped in a towel, but when she opens the door and tentatively steps into the bedroom, she’s still naked.
Her eyes drop to the wet patch on the floor, and her cheeks bloom red. “I’ll get a cloth,” she starts.
“Get into bed, Doll. I’ll clean this up,” I tell her, stepping around her and into the bathroom.
Cleaning myself up, I grab a washcloth and walk back into the bedroom, reluctantly wiping the cum from the floor before dropping the cloth into the hamper, and striding back to the bed where Octavia is sitting and watching me.
“Get under the covers, Doll,” I tell her.
“I should go,” she says quietly.
“This is your home, wife. There’s nowhere else for you to be but here,” I remind her.
“But.”
“No buts. We’re us. Mine. Yours. Married.” It really is as simple as that for me, but I can see from her expression that she doesn’t feel the same.
“We’re not married,” she says with a deprecating scoff.
“We’re married in every way but the paperwork, which we’ll be taking care of tomorrow.”
“I’m not marrying you tomorrow.” This time, she actually laughs.
Not bothering to argue or tell her that, yes, she will be marrying me tomorrow, I lift her and position her beside me, turning her so her back is facing my chest. “I want to fuck your cunt with my fingers,” I say, using the words I know she likes to distract her.
“What?” she gasps.
“I want to fuck your pussy with my fingers until you fall asleep,” I reiterate.
“Now?” she questions.
“Yes, now.”
Before she can say no or question me again.
I curl my arm around her waist, then push my fingers between her thighs, finding the sticky remnants of my cum still slick between her folds.
Spreading her labia, I slide two fingers slowly into her, feeling the ball of tension inside of me settle as her warm, wet body eagerly accepts my intrusion.
“Oh,” she starts, the exclamation quickly morphing into a quiet moan of pleasure.
Her body melts into mine, and I slowly fuck her until she comes with a satisfied whine, then promptly falls asleep.
Happy to feel her, I don’t bother to remove my fingers as she sleeps peacefully in my arms. After thirty minutes, I reluctantly slip my fingers free, immediately bringing them to my mouth, eager to start cataloging her flavor as I suck her taste from my fingers.
My penis is still erect, and for a moment, I consider whether penetrating her would be acceptable or not. Deciding that my wife’s body is as much my own now as it is hers, I fist my penis and slowly guide the head toward her entrance.
Her eyes blink open as I bottom out, feeling her buttocks settle against my groin.
“Oh my god,” she says, her voice half surprise, half pant. “What are you doing?”
“Penetrating your cunt with my cock,” I inform her.
“I was asleep,” she gasps.
“I know.”
“I’m not a sex toy you can shove your dick in every time you get horny,” she protests, even as her body creates its natural lubricant and clenches around my girth.
“My dick is available to you whenever you should need it. If I’m awake or not,” I inform her seriously. I’m happy for her to treat my body like it’s hers to use, because it is.
“So you’d have no issue if I climbed onto your cock and started riding you when you were fast asleep?” she questions, trying to sound self-righteous, but she’s so breathy that her voice just sounds aroused.
“Absolutely. My dick is yours. You can use it as you need,” I tell her honestly.
“You’re insane.”
“I have several mental health assessment reports that confirm I’m perfectly sane,” I advise her.
Rolling my hips, I use the arm that’s around her stomach to help rock her back into me, penetrating her in short thrusts that are making my already rock-hard penis rush closer and closer toward completion.
“Oh my god, that feels…” she moans. “I’m so close.”
Pushing my hand between her thighs, I find her clitoris with my thumb, then slide my fingers lower to where my penis is inside her.
Wanting to feel more, I slip a finger into her pussy alongside my penis, feeling her body work to accept me.
Rolling her clitoris beneath the pad of my thumb, I push my finger in and out in rhythm with my penis until her soft whimpers become loud moans.
“Please, please, please,” she chants, grinding her hips back until I’m moving faster, thrusting deeper and harder.
When she comes, I feel it, her body tightening and tensing, making my penis swell until ejaculate bursts from the tip, filling her for the second time.
Slipping my finger out of her, I slowly withdraw my erection from inside of her, then roll to my back, quickly flipping her and positioning her on top of me, her pussy sitting on my abs.
“Oh my god,” she giggles, her breasts bouncing. “I need to clean up…again.”
“Not yet,” I say, my eyes dipping to where her legs are spread, her vagina wet against my skin.
Taking a moment, I look at her beautiful body.
Her skin is a canvas of paintings curling around her stomach, between her small breasts, and along her collarbones.
Both of her arms are painted with images of people’s faces, stars, flowers, and other things that float effortlessly into each other like a seamless piece of art that I know I’ll stare at for hours and still see something new each time.
Her breasts are small, but high, her nipples a deep pink color that contrasts sexily against the black and gray art decorating her skin.
Her pussy, now pink and wet, has a thin band of dark curls coating the edge of her labia, and I want to bury my face into her and see how it smells.
Her face is classically beautiful, her skin pale and smooth with a pert nose and full pink lips. Her eyes look black, but I know they’re deep chocolate brown when her sadness feels profound and lighter after she orgasms.
Her pigtails are askew, one of the ribbons loose and hanging alongside her hair.
The black eyeliner I watched her apply only hours ago is smudged, and the sex-rumpled doll straddling me is just as sexy as the fresh-faced, makeup-free version I lifted from the tub this morning, and the perfectly put together one I led onto the plane.
“Apparently cum does not stay up there very long, so unless you want me to make a complete mess of your sheets, I need to make a run for it,” she says, pulling me from my inner thoughts.
Wrapping my hands around her hips, I lift her off me, and she leans to the side like she plans to roll away. But instead of releasing her, I keep her positioned six inches above me, my eyes moving from her vagina to her face.
Her mouth drops open when understanding dawns on her.
“No,” she whispers, heat filling her cheeks.
“I want to watch the cum I just fucked into your cunt drip out. It was extremely arousing watching it drip to the floor, but I think this will be better.”
Shaking her head, she tries to pull free of my hold, but I’m twice her height and three times her weight and a hell of a lot stronger than her. There’s no way she could pull herself free unless I let her, and I won’t.
“Knight, no, it’s bad enough I had sex with you twice. This is…it’s weird.”
“What’s wrong with being weird?” I ask, genuinely curious.
I’ve always been weird, or at least odd in comparison to everyone else.
When I was a child, faced with my parents’ constant dissatisfaction with me, I considered trying to be like everyone else, but I quickly realized that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life pretending to be someone I’m not.
I’d rather be weird and authentic than normal and fake.
Her lips snap shut, and she looks down at me like I’ve said something profound.
“I…I…There’s nothing wrong with being weird,” she finally says, her eyes becoming glassy again.
When the first few drips of my ejaculate and her arousal land on my stomach, I don’t bother trying to hide how much I like it.
My fingers squeeze firmly around her hips, holding her positioned above me, but she’s not trying to move anymore.
Instead, her chin is tucked into her chest as she, too, watches my cum drip out of her pussy and land on my abs.
“Oh,” she gasps, the single word laced with surprise. “That’s…”
“Extremely arousing,” I answer.
“Yeah,” she breathes.
Together, silently mesmerized, we watch as several more trails of my sperm slowly leak out of her, until it slows to a stop, leaving her labia glistening and wet.
“I should clean up,” she says quietly.
“I can help,” I suggest.
“I think I need…a…minute,” she says slowly, carefully considering her words.
I don’t want to allow her to be alone. I don’t want to give her a minute. All of her moments belong to me now, and I want to share every single one with her, but I also understand that others don’t always think the same way that I do. So I decide to concede. “Ok. Just this time.”
Reluctantly releasing her hips, I allow her to climb off me, then watch as she dashes to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and shutting me out. The wrongness of the distance and the door between us hits me, making an unexpected surge of emotion swell to life inside of me.
I don’t like not being able to see her. I don’t like the barrier she’s put between us. I don’t want there to be anything that stops me from getting to her, even if it is just a wooden door.