Eleven Years Ago #2
“By whom, wife? Say the word, and I will pierce you on my cock.” Melek’s words are crude, but my pussy clenches, desperate for everything he’s saying, vines illuminating with ravenous desire.
“I—” It’s hard to say. He’s hollow. I’m half hollow.
My family is dead. Releasing the deathly grip I have tethering me to the tree behind, I stuff my fists into his shirt, bringing our mouths a breath from touching.
“I want you to fuck me, husband.” I dash my lips against his. “I want you to fill me with your cum.”
No further invitation required. In a fragment of time, his plush lips are on my own, owning me.
Hard fingers take my ass in hand and push me against the rigidity of Melek’s body, our lips forcing the others open, sucking on tongues and biting pillowy flesh, teeth clashing, trying to fight the other for dominance.
The only reason he will win is that I want him to.
I want him to overpower every sense within my body.
Make me feel.
Make me forget.
Make me scream.
Hauling me up his chiselled muscles, I barely manage to wrap my legs around his sturdy waist as he grips a hand into my hair and pulls my face back, lungs filling frantically. Melek smiles with unholy obliteration. His breaths come faster, but he’s not showing the same signs of fatigue as I am.
“Tell me, wife, are you dripping for me?” Mouth popping open, I gape.
Dripping is an understatement. The floodgates have opened to the point he’s going to be able to drink me, gulp for gulp.
The hand in my hair disappears, and I whimper at the loss.
His palm returns in front of me, a glint blinding me for a moment, as I notice the switchblade Melek retrieved from his waistband.
I often forget about the various weapons he carries at all times on his person.
In the evening, he places them in the safe in our walk-in closet.
I’ve yet to see him use one of his arsenal.
If I had to guess, I’d say his fists are probably his most effective weapons.
“What are you going to do with that?” I murmur, a tremble to my lips.
“Answer my question. Are. You. Wet?” Melek’s one-handed grip on my ass digs into the fullness, pinching me, making me work my pussy against his midsection.
“I—” Fuck it. Why am I playing so coy? He’s already seen me naked since he has no boundaries when I’m changing, as well as the many times I tried to tempt him. “Yes.”
His mouth is at my ear, his lips gliding over the delicate lobe. “I know. You’re leaking through my shirt.”
“Wha—” Shuddering, I try to pull back from him, wishing my panties were enough of a barrier. The blade comes to land on the buttons running down the front of my dress. “What are you doing, Melek?”
“Taking what belongs to me.”
“What belongs to you?” I cock an eyebrow. Is he serious?
“You.” Pop. He takes the knife and snaps off the first button. “Touched.” Pop. “Me.” Pop. “First.” Pop.
Asshole. Bastard. Hollow fucking scum. Fury ignites through me, my white cotton bralette fully exposed to him. The woman at the shop tried to make me buy the kind with underwire. I refused. We didn’t wear bras in the lightning fields, and they looked so uncomfortable.
“So what now? I’m just a wet pussy for you to plunder like some deranged hollow keeper.” Silence greets me.
Blue lightning meets grey fury.
Then he answers…
“NO. YOU ARE MY WIFE.” It’s a beastly roar. Loud enough for the hollow keepers at the iron gates, “protecting” our property to hear.
Wife from his sinful lips is my surrender. That word dripping off his tongue has only ever solidified how entombed I am in his clutches. He’s frozen in time, trembling, as I take my hands and weave them up behind his neck, resting them in the only soft part of his body—his hair.
His eyes close. “You are mine.” He adds this admission softly, not wanting anyone else to hear it, including me, but the trees are not so loud as to let him have that.
“And how will you please your wife, husband?”
Jaw stiffening, a rumble runs up his chest and through his throat. “I plan on feasting on every inch of her until she’s screaming out my name.”
Mouth dry, my tongue works around my teeth, and I gulp. “Okay.” I move my head up and down quickly, pulling his face closer to mine. “Do it.”
“Okay.” He echos my word. “I will.”
Our original kiss was earth-shattering. However, a new excitement blooms as the commander flips me, placing my hands back against the roughness of the bark and tossing my skirt so I’m exposed to him. The expectation of more…
The anticipation has me in a chokehold.
“Fucking empire.” Voice hoarse, his breath crests over my innermost thigh.
I jar, full-body electrification initiated.
“Don’t move.” I stay still as coldness falls against my skin, and the pressure of something hard is placed within my underwear.
There’s a ripping sound before the rush of a breeze catches my core, and I’m quaking all over.
Melek’s beard scratches against my soft skin. I clutch the trunk tighter. If I have splinters after this, he’ll be plucking them ou— Warm wetness laps at the centre of my pussy.
“Oh. My. God.” Breathes come ragged. My heart skips beats, trying to make sense of what is happening to me.
What Melek is doing. He licks again and again.
His tongue doesn’t just lap at the middle of my wetness; it lingers, teasing the folds, sucking occasionally, a tantalising mix that makes my head spin.
I melt against the tree before me. My legs automatically shut a few times, and he swats my ass, demanding I keep them open. I obey. For the first time in this Halo-forsaken marriage, I act obediently.
With mewls and moans and whispered words of encouragement, I let my husband take care of the crazed need between my thighs, an unordained amount of wetness spilling forth.
No one back at the factory said sex was like this. I’d heard stories of trysts that had women swooning over some diabolical-looking farmers. And Mam had told me the man sticks his penis inside the vagina to produce a baby. It sounded positively horrid and painful.
Mam didn’t tell me of the uncontrollable, thigh-shaking, full-body explosions.
The wild wantonness I would experience from watching him naked, the way he tenses and flexes, cock at attention.
She didn’t tell me that I’d end up wanting it more than breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
She didn’t tell me how my body would respond to him—a leaky damn faucet.