16. Oz
16
OZ
M y dick is hard, and my balls are aching by the time I wake up the next morning. I’ve never had so much sex or craved so much more in my whole life. If the Barnetts are this consumed by their wives—and I know they are—how the fuck do they all have time to work and run businesses? I’m considering retiring and spending the rest of my life just fucking my wife like it’s a full-time job.
The last few days have been a series of highs and lows. I know that right now Etta is riding the high of all the orgasms I’ve been giving her. But sooner or later, she’s going to crash and start to question the rash decisions she’s made since she stepped back into my world.
Last night, Danny inadvertently dragged our past into our present by bringing up our parents. Honestly, having a practically estranged relationship with both of my parents has left me jaded about how others interact with their families. It’s almost a force of habit to assume that everyone hates their parents as much as I do.
I assumed that Etta wouldn’t bother telling her mom and Bruce about us getting married. Now that assumption feels pretty fucking stupid. I convinced Etta to marry me because it’s what I wanted and needed, but beyond the desire to possess and claim her, I didn’t consider what our lives would look like other than us being happy together. Rockhead Point feels like a world all on its own. This town and its occupants have become my home and family, so considering an outsider’s impact on our lives here seems almost ridiculous. But Etta has things and people outside of this community that she’s a part of now.
She sees her mom, my dad, and their kids on the holidays. Does that mean she’ll want to do that this year? Will I be alone on our first Thanksgiving and Christmas together? The idea that she’d pick them over me makes me feel furious and nauseous in equal measure.
Etta is mine. She’s my wife and, hopefully soon, the mother of my children. She’s my possession—mine—and thinking about sharing her even for a moment is almost more than I can bear. But will I have to? Will I have to learn to accept my dad’s toxic presence in my life to appease my wife? Will she expect to take our children to spend time with him?
No.
The single word fills my mind with a vehemence that’s so strong I feel myself flinch. Exhaling a shaky breath, I run my fingers along her bare shoulder, assuring myself that she’s still here, that she’s not leaving or choosing them over me. At least not yet.
The desire to breed her as soon as possible barrages my thoughts. If she’s full of my kid, she can’t leave me. A baby will bind her to me and this town even more permanently than the rings I put on her finger and the wedding I coerced her into.
All I need to do is keep her here, keep reminding her over and over why we belong together and why she belongs to me. Soon she’ll fall as in love with me as I already am with her, but until then, I need to smother all of her doubts with lust and love and need. I’ll give her a thousand orgasms and fuck her until she’s incoherent and too tired to move, if that’s what it takes to remind her that me and this town are her only choices.
My dick hardens even more when I firm my resolve to show her how much she needs me. She finally fell asleep last night before I’d even forced her to come one last time to keep all of my cum inside of her. Instead, my own body succumbed to sleep with her heat still wrapped around my cock. The feel of her sleeping, vulnerable body pressed to mine is fucking perfection. She’d welcome me if I pushed into her sex, but I’d rather take her wide-eyed desire over her unconscious submission any day.
“I love you,” I whisper against her neck as I carefully roll her onto her back and straddle her, my hard dick brushing over her mound as I position myself between her thighs. There’s a faint stubble rash over the sides of her breasts from where I spent time nuzzling and sucking on her perfect tiny tits. Her nipples are a dark pink color, with a small bruise forming below her right peak from my teeth.
Bending down, I run my tongue over the small tattoo that’s inked between her pert breasts. I don’t really know what it is, but the swirling line that travels down her sternum is both sexy and infuriating at the same time.
She already told me that Octy is the one who did her tattoos, but the idea of her bearing these perfect little tits for anyone who isn’t me makes me feel fucking feral. I want to bite and mark her so she knows that her body is for my eyes only. But I can’t punish her for something she did before she gave herself to me.
Instead, I brand her with my touch and scent, lapping at the ink again before I lick a path to her nipple, sucking on the tip until it elongates, standing erect and taut from her chest.
A soft sigh huffs from her parted lips, and she rolls her head to the side, lifting one arm above her and dropping it beside her head. Her brow furrows when I turn my attention to her other nipple, sucking and licking until her breasts are a matching pair of pert, aroused temptation.
I’ve never considered how any woman would look with piercings, but for the first time ever, I imagine how sexy Etta would look with sparkling jewels adorning her pretty little tits. Would she like it if I sucked the rings into my mouth or tugged on them with my fingers?
Discarding the fantasy that will never come true, because I’ll kill anyone who gets to see her topless, I slowly lick and nip my way down her body, smiling broadly when she fidgets, lifting, then spreading her legs wider for me even in her sleep.
“Etta, baby, wake up for me,” I coo, drawing swirling patterns over her stomach with my fingertips.
“Hmmm.” Her sexy little sigh comes the moment I part her folds with my fingers and blow a stream of cool air against her clit. The hood is partially pulled back, and I fight the urge to scrape my teeth over the bundle of nerves just to see how quickly I can make her come.
“I need to see those sexy blue eyes,” I drawl, leaning down and licking her clit with the flat of my tongue.
Her back arches, and the hand beside her head lifts and reaches for me. The moment her fingers find me, she stiffens, and her eyes flash open. “Oz,” she croaks sleepily.
“You taste fucking sweet in the morning,” I rasp, licking her again.
“Shower,” she mumbles.
“No. You taste like me from all the cum I fucked into you last night. You taste fucking perfect.” Dipping my chin, I lick a path down to her sex, then push my tongue into her channel as I start to fuck her with it.
“Oh,” she moans low and rough.
“Wake up, Little One, and I’ll make you come, then fuck you until you can’t remember your own name or anything but the feel of my cock and the taste of my cum.”
Her sleepy eyes go wide, and I smirk, finding her clit with my thumb while I tongue fuck her hole.
“Oz, oh god,” she rasps as I replace my tongue with two fingers, pumping them into her core as I flick her clit with the tip of my tongue, relentlessly pushing her higher and higher until she comes with a ragged squeal that makes me feel like a fucking superstar.
“Perfect.” I sigh happily, crawling up her body and claiming her mouth with mine, making her taste her own arousal from my tongue. Parting her thighs with mine, I grab my dick and guide it to her entrance, slamming into her on one hard thrust.
Swallowing her shocked gasp, I allow her a moment to adjust to my dick before I grab one of her knees and hitch her leg up so I can push into her a little deeper. She’s sore, and I feel her grimace a little against my lips.
“Are you too sore?” I ask, stilling.
“No, don’t stop,” she pants, lifting her hips and urging me to move.
Happy that she’s just as addicted as me, I pull back, then slam forward, silencing her with a hard possessive kiss as I rut into her.
“Move, god more,” she begs, meeting me thrust for thrust as she rolls her hips and arches her back.
“Tell me what you need,” I taunt.
“Fuck me, hard. Please, Oz, I need to come.”
“Anything for you,” I promise, finding her clit with my finger and rubbing while I rut into her, fucking her with hard, determined thrusts.
Our bedroom swirls with the sounds of wet, slapping flesh that’s provocative and depraved in equal measure. When she comes, her guttural cries wrap around us, and I follow her over the edge, groaning as hot bursts of cum spurt from the head of my cock.
The smell of sex coats the air, and I swallow the taste as I suck in deep gulps. “Jesus, Little One, I fucking love you.”
Her soft giggle is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, and I vow to myself to start every day that I can just like this.
Not pulling out of her, I collapse to the side, resting most of my weight on my arms as I bury my face into her sweat-dampened throat. My lips immediately find her fluttering pulse and I press my cheek against it, calming as I feel proof of her life force beating against my skin.
“You’re going to kill me, wife,” I rasp as she massages her fingers into my scalp.
“Why?”
Her innocent response makes me smile, and I turn my lips so I can press them against her throat.
It’s still early, the sun lazily making its way into the sky, but I’m used to starting my day at dawn. As if on cue, Etta’s stomach growls loudly, and I feel her gasp of shock as she presses her hand to her stomach.
“Hmmm,” I purr, nuzzling my nose against her warm skin. “It sounds like I’m not doing a very good job of looking after you. Do you want to come downstairs with me or sleep for a little longer while I make us some breakfast?”
I brace for her to tell me she wants to stay in bed. I don’t know why I offered her the option of staying up here alone when I know I’ll struggle to let her out of my sight. Today is Friday, and I have to be back at work on Sunday morning. My time with her is running out, and I want to spend every moment that I can with her, even if it’s only while I cook and she sits and watches.
“I’ll come downstairs,” she says on a yawn.
Lifting my weight, I do a press-up over her and kiss her. It’s not a hard, rough, claiming kiss, but that doesn’t make it any less possessive, because I want to own her in the sweet moments as well as the intense ones.
Reluctantly slipping my softening cock from her, I replace it with my fingers and her lips part in anticipation of the orgasm she already knows I’m going to give her. Once the plug I ordered for her arrives, I won’t technically need to make her come like this, but I already know I will. She’s come to expect it, and I like knowing that the pleasure I give her is the reason her body swallows my cum up like it’s as desperate to keep it as I am to force it deeper inside of her.
Moments after I find her clit, she comes on a gasping moan, tipping her head back as her body arches off the bed in the sexiest way. My dick hardens again, but I ignore it. My need to feed her and take care of her is equally as strong as my desire to fuck her, and as I’ve already had her once, I’m happy to prioritize her care over my dick.
When the rush of release fades, I wait for her muscles to relax and her eyes to open before I slip my fingers from her body. She’s such an odd mix of guileless and sinful. It makes me wonder how the men who came before me ever let her go. How stupid must they have been to let her slip away? Of course, I know it’s because she was always intended to be mine, but for a moment, I feel a little sympathy that they’ll know that they could have tried to keep her and didn’t.
“I’m so fucking lucky to have you, Little One.”
Sighing, her cheeks flush an adorable pink color, and her gaze dips to my chin, avoiding my eyes like she’s embarrassed.
Laughing lightly, I push my damp fingers into my mouth, sucking the remains of both mine and her arousal from them. “We taste so fucking good together,” I growl, a hint of need slipping into my voice.
“Your cum?” she questions, snapping her eyes upward.
“My cum and yours. You taste sweet, but your cunt full of my cum is fucking delicious.”
Her cheeks burn so pink that I know they’d be hot to the touch, but she looks as turned-on as she does scandalized.
“Do you like the idea of me tasting myself from your pussy?” I taunt.
It only takes her a moment to respond, then she nods.
Pushing two fingers back into her, I pull them out, then offer them to her. “Taste.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve pushed my cum-soaked fingers into her mouth, but this time I’m not forcing her, I’m offering them to her. When she lifts her head off the pillow and sucks my fingers into her mouth, it takes everything in me not to growl, but instead I watch her expression as she sucks the taste from my skin. “You’re fucking perfect. My perfect, good girl.”
When she releases my fingers with a pop, I smirk and arch an eyebrow.
“We do…taste good,” she whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.
I press a hot, fast kiss to her lips then scoop her into my arms and lift both of us out of bed. “I need to feed you, anything else I want can wait till later.”
Carrying her straight into the bathroom, I lower her to her feet beside the toilet. “Pee.”
Instead of giving her the chance to protest my presence, I turn my back to her and reach into the shower. The moment I’m not watching, she gets on with her business and I pretend to ignore her while smiling to myself that she’s embarrassed about me seeing her pee, but more than happy to let me touch, lick, and fuck her.
I don’t have to order her to get in the shower with me, she simply steps in beside me, letting me take charge as I quickly wash us both. Once we’re done, I wrap her in a huge towel, take her hand, and lead her to the closet. Instead of picking out clothes, I grab a pair of basketball shorts for me and one of my T-shirts for her.
The shorts do nothing to hide my hard cock, but I’m always hard around Etta, so I don’t bother to try to pretend I don’t always want her. She looks fucking adorable in my shirt. It’s huge on her, hanging well past her knees, the collar slipping off her shoulder. She looks like a kid trying to wear her parents’ clothes, and I can’t help chuckling.
“I need to wear my own stuff,” she protests, reaching for the hem to pull my shirt up.
“No, leave it, you look too fucking cute.” I smile, lifting her up until she’s high enough I can kiss her.
Instead of trying to get down, she wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and clings to me like she never wants to let go.
“I love you,” I whisper against her lips, knowing she won’t say it back but hoping for the first time, like she might actually feel it.
Not letting her go, I carry her downstairs and sit her on the counter while I make smashed avocado, poached eggs, toast, and pico de gallo. We eat at the breakfast bar, our stools turned to face each other, and for the very first time, Etta doesn’t protest the amount of food on her plate. Instead, she eats almost everything, sighing appreciatively once she’s finished.
“That was so good, thank you,” she says, rubbing her stomach.
“Is it weird that I find watching you eat the food I’ve cooked for you really fucking hot?”
“Yes,” she says with a tinkling giggle.
Shrugging my shoulders, I slip down from the stool and reach for her plate.
“I can clean up,” she says quickly.
“Or you could stay there while I do it,” I say, slipping a small amount of steel into my voice that has her pulling her arms that were reaching for the silverware back into her chest.
“If we’re hosting tomorrow, we should go get meat for the barbecue…” My words trail off, and I sigh to myself, realizing that I’ve told my team and the Barnetts that we’re hosting a barbecue when my wife doesn’t like the smell of cooking meat. “Fuck,” I hiss.
“It’s fine. Just because I don’t eat meat, I don’t have a problem with others eating it.”
“Yeah, but you don’t like the smell of it cooking.”
“I’ll be fine outside, it’s more when it’s inside and I can’t get away from the smell. But even then, I’ll cope, I won’t fall apart just because I don’t like how something smells.”
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable at a party that’s celebrating you,” I growl.
“I’ll be uncomfortable anyway. Telling Tori and Nero and seeing their reaction was hard enough, seeing how a whole group of people react to finding out that we’re stepsiblings all at once is going to be mortifying.”
“We’re not stepsiblings,” I snarl angrily.
She sighs. “We know that’s not what our relationship has ever been. But like it or not, accept it or not, that’s what we are. I know we’re not doing anything wrong by being together, but not everyone will feel that way.” Her voice gets smaller and smaller with each word, and I fucking hate it.
“Then we won’t tell them all at once. Let’s get dressed. We’ll start with my team and tell everyone, one by one, then there’ll be no judgment tomorrow. You’re mine, Etta, I refuse to be ashamed of that or let you be.”