Chapter 5 #3
The sound of the door shutting behind us was lost in the click-clack of my wife’s heels on the tiled floors. She’d turned to stone on the ride back home, and no matter how many times I’d told her she’d done well, it didn’t penetrate the thick walls of disappointment she’d set up.
In my mind, I ran through a thousand things to make her feel better as I ditched my coat in the hallway.
Running her a bath, cooking her favourite meal.
Ah… who was I kidding? This was Orietta.
The best course of action would be to allow her to smash my bike.
When I’d just gotten it back from the garage.
I made my way to the bedroom, where I’d no doubt find her cuddled on the bed. I stopped short in the kitchen. She stood there, leaning with her back against the short end of the kitchen island, elbows resting on it.
“Fuck me.”
Why the fuck hadn’t I thought of that?
I didn’t ask her how, when, or where. I only knew this was the one thing I could give her. Abandonedly.
I paced towards her, caging her within my arms, and I ran my hand up her thigh. I tugged, and the tiny lace thing she wore in the morning came apart with a snap and fell to the floor. Both our gazes followed it. The black lace lying like a dark memory on the grey-tiled floor.
“Rip it all apart,” she urged me. “I don’t want to keep anything as a reminder of today.”
I went to work. My hands skimmed the fabric of her dress.
It was made of satin, as far as my knowledge of dresses and shit went.
It shone, and it rippled over her curves, gliding over her generous tits to her tiny waist before spilling wide onto her hips.
I ran a path along it for one last time, remembering and saving it because, cazzo, I’d loved seeing her in the dress.
Then, I dipped my hands in her cleavage and ripped the fabric apart, right through the middle, from her neck to her pussy.
It came apart in jagged edges and hung on her sides like a satin coat.
She lifted her arms and pulled it off entirely, together with her lace bra.
She was naked except for her heels, and I forgot all about the dress.
She would never cease to make my dick tick.
My hands combed her hair roughly, pulling out the two roses she’d clipped in it in the morning.
It hadn’t made sense then. Two white roses, which had been in such contradiction to who she was.
I dragged them down her face, made her kiss them, and pulled them along her neck to her pebbled nipples.
When I clipped them there, her blood rushed to them, making her tits swell and heat with a white rose in the centre.
This was who she was to me. The most unusual of roses.
Full of surprises only I could unwrap. I licked my way around them, drawing pretty little wet circles.
She gripped my head and heated my ears with her eager moans.
I pulled at the white roses and gave them a sharp twist. She bucked and gasped in need like a wild thing.
“Perfect,” I murmured. “I told you undressing would be so much more fun.”
Then I dropped to my knees, pulled her soaked pussy down to my face, and fucked her with my tongue.
“Fuck,” she lets out a long moan that grated down to the tip of my cock.
“On it,” I muttered before I gripped the back of her knees and hung them on top of my shoulders.
My knees hit the floor. I pushed her against the wood of the island.
Then I shoved all my power into the tip of my tongue and jutted it inside her.
Her hand gripped my hair, my ears. At one point, she squeezed both my ears, trying to smash my head in or something.
I didn’t know. I was too busy licking up all her juices.
The wild cat in my arms let out continuous moans, building up like a fucking orchestra.
Then I decided she deserved more and threw in three digits of mine into the mixture.
The heels of her stilettos pinched my back painfully.
It propelled me into action, and soon, I was banging her with my fingers and tongue, roughly hitting her back again and again on the wood.
She lost it in my arms, rocking her hips and clenching her thighs around my head.
“Fuck me, yes… yes… fuck god… yes…” A river of liquid hit me, and she cramped so hard my ears rang out from the pain.
My skull burned from the grip she had on my hair.
I shouldn’t even have been able to move under the grip.
But the need to fill her with my dick was far greater.
I lifted us both up onto the island, and pushed her onto her back.
I fumbled with my zipper. An arduous task when she yanked me down by my tie and proceeded to taste herself by fucking my mouth.
Somehow, I managed to get my cock free, and I thrust inside her in one go.
Her lips felt like wet pools of satin, and I slipped inside in one smooth glide.
Without even giving her a second to gasp, I was pounding in and out of her like a sex-starved lunatic.
Her hand twisted around my tie, curling it in her fist and bringing me closer.
I bit her lip until I tasted blood, and she let go of me.
I lifted away, grabbed her hips, and kept moving.
She was a fucking sight with the two white roses pinned onto her nipples.
I took her ankles, pushed them back, and folded them, pinning them to the island.
She lay completely flat on the island for my consumption and mine only.
She stretched like a fucking pedigree cat, gaze all-knowing.
I punished her by grabbing hold of the roses and twisting them around sharply before unclipping them.
The rush of blood flow made her eyes roll.
I stretched her wider by pinning her upper thighs and spreading them wider.
She clamped around my dick, and she let go.
I couldn’t hold on if I wanted to. I was coming with her.
Letting loose and jerking inside her, dripping enough cum for it to make a fucking mess and leak outside.
When her moans went quiet, and my cock stopped jerking, I stilled my movements. Cazzo. We were a fucking sight. Caked in sweat. My tie was crushed, the only one I owned. At some point, she might have tried to rip off my shirt because I was missing some buttons on my only good dress shirt.
Best part of all? I didn’t give a fuck about any of it because my wife had a smug smile on her lips again. “This is the only memory I want of today,” she slurred lazily.
“Good.” I picked her off the kitchen island, intent on keeping it that way, and made my way to the bedroom.
She wrapped her hands around my neck tightly before she assaulted my neck with kisses, hindering my progress. “Thank you.” Her voice was a whisper, and it landed like satin right inside my ear canal.
“For what?” I was almost at the stairs.
“For everything.”
My hands gripped the railing. A shiver slid down my spine.
Cazzo. I’d spend fifteen years in prison.
But no one had brought me closer to dropping to my knees than she.
This was the closest she’d ever come to telling me how she felt.
I didn’t need her words to know it. But it sure did things to me.
Like making my chest expand like a fucking balloon with a silly, delirious happiness.
“It was nothing.” My voice was all jagged edges.
“No, it wasn’t.”
I gripped her chin in my hand and pinned my eyes to hers. “It was nothing because it isn’t an ounce of what I will do to make you happy.”
Her eyes sparkled with liquid.
“Never forget that, piccolo porcospino.”
She put her face on my shoulder and cuddled up to my neck, hiding her smile of satisfaction in it.
I gripped her ass cheeks and pinched them. She squealed with delight. “I think someone wanted a fresh batch of memories today, and I got some ideas cooking.”
“Like what?” she asked, her voice half mumbled against my skin.
“It involves a bed.”
“I mean, does it have to?”
“Good point. We need only two things. My dick. Your pussy.”
“There’re more holes to fill than—”
I yanked her face up and brought it up to me. “Cazzo, I love you, woman.”
She shrugged, her movements all nonchalant but her words loaded with meaning.
“I kind of like you, too.” And just like that, she moved over another hurdle.
It may not have been a lot for another, but for me, it was the fucking moon.
Words were her worst enemy, and my wife didn’t dish out sweet ones.
“Show me how much then.”
And that she did.