21. Zara #2
“Definitely. You sass me back every goddamn chance you get.”
“Well, husband,” I say, my tone dripping with seduction, “I have the slight impression you are seldom told no. I’m just keeping that enormous ego in check.”
“My point exactly,” he groans.
“So that makes me a brat?”
“You. Are. One.”
I wet my lips, arousal pooling low in my belly. “And what happens to brats?”
“They get punished.” His eyes darken, causing me to shift in my seat.
The air turns combustible while we play with matches, careless of the burn.
“You’re just searching for a reason to spank my ass.” I lean over to whisper, “But I like it, husband, so you can stop talking nonsense.”
A guttural sound vibrates in his throat. “Nonsense, you say?”
“Mm-hmm, so what are you going to do about that?” My voice drips with challenge, loving how good he makes me burn.
With every second, the tension sizzles, our breathing labored as the foreplay continues its seductive course.
His eyes spark at the prospect. “Provoking me. Oh baby, you want to be fucked, badly.”
A tremor passes through me, and he notices my reaction, but he remains seated, stoking my sexual frustration.
“I know you’re hard. So why don’t you take me already?” I whine, done with the game, and craving gratification.
“I want you dripping wet for me. Out of your mind with desire before I take you.” He sounds in control, but it’s a show.
His shirt stretches across his chest, the buttons threatening to pop any second now, his muscles pulled taut.
He’s on edge. I am threatening his control by simply being in his presence.
“You just love it when I beg,” I drawl out the last part, and his blue eyes liquefy, drowning me in an ocean of desire.
“And beg you will,” he says, lifting his glass in a toast.
“If I’m a brat, you are cruel,” I mutter, riled up while he seems the picture of composure. So unfair.
He smirks behind the glass and enjoys me squirming in my seat with no way to release the pressure he’s entirely responsible for.
I won’t wait for him, taking matters into my own hands. Standing up, I step between his feet. “Fuck me.”
I straddle his legs and plant my palms on his chest, murmuring, “I’m aching everywhere.” My hands glide toward his nape, and I thread my fingers through his scalp, pulling at the ends of his hair to make him feel what he does to me. “Please fill me.”
His entire body coils taut, about to snap from the pressure. “Fuck.”
He’s putty in my hands, but damn, so am I in his. He’s my match in everything. There are either losers or winners––no in between.
He fists his hand in my hair, tugging my head back as he nibbles on my neck. “My baby wants my cock?”
I bite my bottom lip, desperate for a release. “Badly, Find out how wet I am.”
“I don’t need to. You’re staining my pants.”
“Is that a yes?” I whisper, my tone ending on a seductive rasp.
“You have no patience,” he says above my lips that tingle in anticipation.
“Why would I? Delayed gratification sucks.”
“Right? You’re not a brat at all.”
I stick out my tongue, shattering his control.
“Fuck it.”
I rejoice over my win when his palm connects with my ass, eliciting a yelp from me. “Not my problem that you can’t deny me.”
“I know one sure way to stop you from sassing me,” he says, gathering me in his arms and stalking to the cabin at the back of the jet.
He closes the door with his foot the instant we’re inside and then pushes me to my knees. “Unzip me.”
Every pore oozes sexuality and raw sensuality––something deeply manly and powerful that makes me want to submit and pleasure him.
I make quick work of getting him out, and his cock jerks, greeting me by hitting my face. Up close, it appears even bigger, covering my face entirely.
He grips the base and smacks my mouth a few times. The dominant gesture evokes an instant reaction. I salivate, feral for a taste and out of my mind horny. My vision blurs, my pulse flickers a wild rhythm, eager to be ravished.
I open my lips in invitation, surrendering to the desire pulsing in my veins.
“You look so damn good on your knees for me, waiting to worship my cock.”
He pushes just the tip inside and I suck the head like it’s my favorite ice cream flavor.
His body vibrates, my mouth causing an earthquake through his insides.
Groaning low, he takes himself out with a pop and feeds me more.
Soon, he hits the back of my throat, ignoring my gag reflex and slipping down my throat.
I hold on to his muscular thighs while he takes his pleasure from my mouth, and I breathe through my nose every time I kiss his trimmed groin. Again and again. My eyes well up, I am a flushed mess.
His groans of pleasure mix with me gurgling and slobbering on his fat cock. I might be on my knees, but he’s the one at my will, yielding to the one in control. The knowledge makes me feel beyond powerful.
“Fuck, I won’t last long with how good your mouth feels.”
He pulls himself out and yanks me by the wrist, backing me against the door. I lift onto my toes instinctively just as he slips my thong to the side and impales me with one long thrust that steals the breath from my lungs.
I claw at the door, my nails biting into it in a long scratch as he cups my neck and pushes himself so deep inside me, I feel him in my toes. I feel him everywhere. My eyes water with exquisite pleasure while I try to breathe through the stretch and fullness, making me lose my mind.
He licks my tear-stained face. “Love how this pussy opens up for me.”
“You’re so deep. So good.” A rivulet of moans flows from my mouth.
“I’d go even deeper if I could.”
I know, and my response is to meet him thrust for thrust.
While desire drives us, it’s this unmistakable need and familiar intimacy that highlights every sexual encounter. Feelings and passion create an intricate net––ironclad and searing.
“Can’t wait to fuck you pregnant. Fill you with my cum. See you waddling around carrying my child.”
Should this baby talk make me even hornier?
With his other hand, he palms my belly, and I come––a supernova, lighting up bright, exploding from too much heat.
He nibbles on my neck as he pushes into me, his rhythm frantic as he chases his own release.
“You like that, don’t you? Fuck, if the idea of breeding you until you’re all swollen, mine for life, carrying my heir doesn’t turn me into a savage.”
Another shock vibrates through me, prolonging my release, and he fills me, his knees buckling from his heavy orgasm.
He breathes hard as he slaps a palm on the door. “Fuck, that was intense.”
When isn’t it?