Via Daemonia Motorcycle Club - Book 11
Ghost toed off his boots by the door and hung up his cut on the rack on the wall.
About halfway up the stairs, Ghost paused, an odd buzzing sound reaching his ears.
At first, Ghost wondered if it was a hairdryer or something else women used to do their hair or makeup.
He’d dated a lot of women, but never lived with one before.
The fact that Becks had three boxes labeled for the bathroom was mindboggling to him, and he had no idea what appliances or supplies were in them.
But all thoughts of that sound being innocent left his mind almost immediately as a new one echoed down the staircase. A very low, very sensual moan. A moan that he knew intimately well.
A moan only he should be eliciting from his wife.
He wasn’t entirely sure what emotions filled him upon hearing it.
Confusion, jealousy, maybe a twinge of rage…
The thought of another man being in his bed with her never occurred to him.
The buzzing clued him in that the sounds Becks was making were self-induced.
But the fact that she was making them without him… ?
Ghost did not like that. Not at all. He wanted to be the source of all his wife’s pleasure. Becks would never know ecstasy but by his hands, mouth, and cock. He was possessive and controlling enough to demand such within his marriage.
Their bedroom door was open when he stepped onto the landing, casting an ominous light into the dark hall. Ghost was on the verge of plotting to destroy all phallic-shaped toys within this house, wanting no cock—fake or real—but his own to touch his wife’s body.
Then the sight of his wife splayed out on their marriage bed reached him as he approached the doorway.
Her incredibly luscious body captivated him, from the way her left arm was raised above her head to grip his headboard, to her closed eyes and gasping mouth, to her large tits rising and falling with her shallow breaths, to her quivering stomach that shook with desire, to her bent knees and open thighs that give him the perfect view of her wet pussy spread wide by the intruding purple toy she thrust into herself with her right hand…
And holy fuck, was that his pillow under her perfect ass?
Perhaps destroying all phallic-shaped toys was a bit premature, but he’d be damned if she played by herself. He would not relent that he would be the sole source of all her pleasure.
Ghost silently stepped into the room, removing his shirt in one easy motion. His belt jingled slightly as he unbuckled it, catching her attention and making her eyes fly open. Becks yelped, red-faced and wide-eyed at getting caught masturbating by her husband.
“Naughty wife,” he growled, dropping the belt to the floor. Opening his jeans, he pushed them and his skivvies down his legs to release his hard dick from the tight confines of denim.
Putting one knee on the bed, Ghost leaned forward enough to pull the vibrating dildo from her drenched core.
She made a protesting whimper, and he practically could see her pussy clench around the empty air.
Twisting the bottom to turn off the vibrations, he brought the fake dick to his face, where he sniffed her tangy scent before licking her arousal off the silicone.
Christ, there was no better taste. He could feast on her for days, weeks, and never grow hungry.
Her eyes, already comically wide from shock at his presence, became saucers as she watched him lick her off the dildo like it was an ice cream cone.
Was she surprised because it was a fake dick?
She’d soon learn just how possessive Ghost could be when it came to devouring every piece of her.
Once it was clean and dripping with his saliva, Ghost parted her glistening folds and slid the dildo back inside her.
Becks’ back bowed as she moaned at the entry.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he instructed, backing off the mattress.
“And don’t close your eyes again. You will look at me while you fuck yourself with that cock, but first…
” He reached under the mattress to grab the padded spreader bar he kept there.
Kneeling on the bed, he buckled one side around her left ankle.
Thank the Lords of Kink that these cuffs closed with buckles and not locks, because Ghost had no intention of leaving the bed to get the key and padlock set from his nightstand.
“And after you orgasm, sweet wife,” he moved onto her other ankle, “you will thank me for allowing you to continue rather than punish you for pleasuring yourself without me.”
As Becks’ mouth gaped open and closed several times, Ghost pressed the spring-loaded button in the center of the spreader bar, and in a single snap, extended the black metal to its full length.
Her legs widened even more. This bar also had small D-hooks that allowed him to attach wrist cuffs to the center, either folding her forwards or backwards, depending on his preference, but he had no intention of grabbing the extra cuffs.
He needed her hands free—at least for the time being.
“I… I wanted to do something for you,” she finally gasped out. “I thought you would be at work longer and wanted to remind you what was waiting for you at home.”
At the tip of her chin, Ghost looked over his shoulder to see her phone set up on a tripod, the camera aimed directly at the bed. It was in the corner of the room, capturing a wide-angle view of what Becks had been doing to herself. He’d been too fixated on her to have noticed it upon his entry.
Turning back to his wife, Ghost grinned down at her.
Well, that certainly answered the question of whether or not she was into them taking dirty pictures and videos.
“My dear, sweet Becks…” He reached forward, trailing a finger through her arousal that coated her folds around her stuffed pussy.
“You have no idea the monster you just unleashed. Because now I am going to demand such a video every time we are apart.”
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