Chapter 118
Tilda
Panting, I’m deadweight, sprawled over Ethan like a life-sized rag doll.
We both collapsed back after the shockwave subsided. He still has an arm banded around me, his other hand on my thigh, and I can feel the wetness of our combined releases on his fingers.
A perfect mess.
“Firecracker.” Ethan wheezes the nickname.
I try to sit up, but he just holds me in place. “Where’re you going?”
My struggle is weak. “I’m crushing you.”
Ethan chuckles. “You couldn’t crush me if you tried.”
The movement causes his dick to finally slip free.
I squeak and try to press my thighs together.
“Quit wiggling.” Ethan nuzzles his nose against my cheek.
This time, I start to chuckle. Which only worsens the state between my legs. “Ethan, I’m making a mess.”
He lifts his hand from my thigh, and I think he’s going to help me up, but he just reaches down and pulls my panties back into place. “There.” He pats my pussy.
I jolt. “Ethan.”
“What?” He drags his nose up to my temple and inhales.
“You’re like a cat.” A shiver works its way down my spine at the feel of his scratchy beard against my cheekbone.
“A happy cat.” His fingers knead into my stomach.
“I always wanted a cat,” I sigh. Then I give up the fight and go back to my deadweight state.
A rumble vibrates through Ethan’s chest. Like a purr.
“Good Kitty.”
Ethan’s hand goes back to cupping me between my legs. “Pretty kitty.”
Letting my eyes drift closed, I grin. “I remember thinking you had a pretty penis.”
Ethan chokes, then lightly smacks my pussy.
“Ethan!” My eyes snap open.
He leaves his hand there. “That’s for calling it a penis.”
I snort. “That’s what it’s called.”
“Cock. Dick. Shaft.” He hums. “I’m sure there are others. But never penis.”
I shake my head, my hair ruffling against his shoulder.
Ethan smacks my pussy again, and it makes a wet slapping sound. My panties are completely soaked by this point.
“Ethan!”
“And that is for knowing how to tug on a man’s balls like that.”
I huff as I shake my head again.
He keeps his palm pressed firmly against me. “Where did you learn that?” His fingers flex against my panties. “Better yet, don’t tell me.”
His jealousy warms me all the way to my toes.
So, I tell him. “Porn.”
I can feel him slowly lift his head to look at me.
I keep my eyes up, watching the colors from the TV dance across the ceiling.
“Matilda Iris Wright.” He says it so sternly that I snicker.
He rocks his palm against my core.
“Are you telling me that you watch filthy, ball-fondling pornography while you touch this perfect little slit of yours?”
I start to squirm.
His words.
His body beneath mine.
His fingers putting pressure on my entrance.
I lift my heavy arm and reach down to grip his forearm. “Ethan.”
He slides his hand up until his fingers reach the band of my underwear, then he slides them back down. With nothing between us. “Tell me, Starlight. Tell me what you do.”
He starts to work his fingers, our combined releases coating his hand.
And it’s so slippery.
Gods, it’s so freaking slippery.
Ethan groans.
Then we’re sitting up, my body moving with his.
He’s eager now.
Hands moving quickly to pull my pajama shirt off.
“On the floor.” He uses his foot to shove the coffee table forward, making room for us. Then he slides us off the couch.
I kneel on the floor, collapsing forward, elbows on the coffee table.
“Tell me, Bad Girl.” He kneels behind me, dragging my panties down. “Tell me what you do when you’re alone.”
I open my mouth.
But then he shoves inside me.
And all that comes out is a cry as he roughly thrusts into me.
I squeeze around him.
It feels so good.
He digs his fingers into my hips.
So damn good.
“Touch yourself, Tilda.” He doesn’t slow.
And I can tell it’s not going to take him long.
“Show me how you make yourself come.” He keeps going, keeps fucking me.
“Use those fingers on that perfect pussy.” Blindly, frantically, I reach one hand down and start rubbing at my clit.
“That’s it. That’s my Bad Girl.” His words send me higher, send me closer.
“Keep going. Don’t fucking stop. Don’t you dare stop until you’re coming on my cock. ”
“Ethan. Oh gods. Ethan.”
He grips my hips even tighter.
His movements get even rougher as he pounds into me.
“Fuck. Starlight. Fuck.”
My fingers can barely stay where I need them because I’m so freaking slippery.
“Tell me, Wife. Tell me when you’re coming.”
That’s it.
Wife.
That’s all I needed.
“I’m coming,” I choke out as my body spasms. “Husband, I’m coming.”
“Fuck,” Ethan bellows as he slams his hips forward, burying himself as deep as he can go.
Flames bloom in my chest.
Sparkles dance in my vision.
Muscles pulse and clench, and pleasure consumes me.
Ethan groans and moans and twitches inside me.
It’s bliss.
Heaven.
Then my head starts to swim, and my hand drops from my core.
I slump forward, and when my forehead bumps against the coffee table, I gasp in a breath.
Ethan makes a garbled sound of alarm as he wraps his arms around me and lifts my top half off the table.
“I’m okay.” I put my palms on the table and start to snicker. “I forgot to breathe.”
“Don’t do that.” Ethan sounds so distraught. And I feel bad. But…
My snicker turns into a full-body laugh.
Ethan grumbles as he, once again, slips free from my body.
I can’t stop laughing.
That was all so… intense. I don’t even know what to do with myself.
Ethan’s heat leaves my back. Followed by a thud.
Turning my head, I find him flat on his back. On the floor. Chest still heaving. Pants and boxer briefs around his knees. Dick shining in the glow of the TV.
What a perfect night.