39. King Size #2
My wife, on her knees, craving my cock is officially the sexiest thing that has ever happened to me. But when she sneakily shoves a hand between her thighs and strokes her wet pussy, I revise that statement. Because this, right here, is even hotter. So hot I yank my dick from her mouth.
“What?” she asks innocently. Too innocently.
“I will come on your face if you play with yourself.”
Her eyes widen, flickering with filthy excitement. She wraps a hand around my dick. “I want that soon.”
I know what she means. Of course, I fucking know what she means. But I have to ask the question. “You want me to come on your face?”
“I do.” Like she said when I married her.
She is killing me, and I need her. I strip off the briefs then lie down on the bed, parking my hands behind my head on the pillow. “Get naked and sit on my dick now.” She slips off her skirt, pulls off her T-shirt, and unhooks her bra. She stands naked before me and my mouth goes dry.
My efforts to control everything fly out the window.
My heart stutters. Thumps harder. My best friend is naked and gorgeous. This is so unreal, and yet here she is climbing up on the bed, straddling me and saying, “So this is how you want me.”
I can barely breathe. I want her so much. I want her in every way. I nod since I’m unable to speak. I would probably only grunt anyway. I grip the base, offer her my dick. And finally manage to use my words again, gritting out, “Take it, honey. Take it all.”
It’s a barren rasp, full of raw emotion.
She has to hear the truth in my voice. To know this is so much more than sex.
But maybe she’s lost in the moment too, since she bats my hand away so she can wrap her fist around my dick. She rubs the head of my cock against her pussy. I close my eyes because it’s almost too much. The hot, slick, silky feel of her.
I shake. I breathe out hard, biting off a string of curse words so I don’t shoot right now. Everything feels too good. Every single thing.
Like Maeve, guiding my cock along her pussy, getting ready to take me deep. Like Maeve positioning the tip. Like Maeve drawing a deep, steadying breath and sinking down on my dick.
In one smooth motion she takes me into her body, and I toss my head back, letting out a feral groan. “Fuuuuck.”
She’s tight and hot, and she has my last name.
Nothing has ever been better than this. I grab her hips and fuck Mrs. Callahan, using all my strength and every ounce of control to thrust up, to fill her and take her and have her and mark her.
And to wrestle back what I need most—control. “Lift your hands into your hair,” I tell her, in a clear order.
She complies, raising them, lacing her fingers through those lush waves as she leans her head back and gives me the most perfect view in the entire universe.
It is glorious to witness. The sight, the sound, her scent, her pleasure as she rides my cock.
Her tits bounce, her skin glistens, and her pussy stretches as I fill her deep.
Every nerve in me is raw, exposed as I slam her down on me then grind up into her, setting the pace under her until she’s gasping and groaning.
I let go of her right hip to slide my thumb between her thighs, rubbing her needy clit. With a few quick circles, she’s shaking, shuddering, coming, and I really need to follow her there.
But not like this, when she’s got me by my balls, so to speak.
When she lets out a final gasping, satisfied breath, I lift her off me. “On your back. Knees up high. Hold them open.”
I set her down on her back and she complies, sliding her knees up to her tits. “You want to watch your dick slam into me?”
She knows me too well. That’s the problem. But that’s also the joy. “I fucking do,” I tell her.
“Is that your kink?”
I take a beat, letting the moment breathe as I shake my head, stroke her cheek, and speak from the bottom of my damaged, greedy heart as I say softly, “You are my kink.”
She gasps, but I don’t give her time to linger.
Her sounds turn into long, greedy moans as I sink into her all the way.
I stare down at the place where we meet, watching her glistening pussy stretch around my cock.
She reaches for the headboard, gripping it with both hands.
“Like that?” she asks as if she knows what I’m thinking. As if she knows what I need.
For her to let me fuck her hard. For me to take her.
“Yeah, just like that,” I say. Sparks rattle down my body, shooting straight to my cock. I’m not far off. Not at all. I pick up the pace. Faster, deeper, racing to the edge.
Trouble is, this isn’t enough.
I need more of her pleasure. I make a game-day decision, stretch out an arm, and grab the aptly named Finger Puppet that we used last night. It’s in a drawer. I shove it toward her. “Let go of the headboard. Fuck yourself while I fuck you,” I tell her.
Maeve needs no instructions. She holds onto the slats with one hand, puts the toy on her index finger, and shoves it between her legs, stroking and moaning.
That’s all it takes. I fucking explode in pleasure. It takes me hostage. It steals my brain. It robs me of anything else but the sheer and utter bliss of coming hard and deep inside Maeve as she shouts my name.
It’s hot and electric. It’s raw and passionate, and it is not nearly enough. I want so much more. I want it all. I want everything.
When I ease out, my come drips down her thigh, a slow slide that I can’t look away from.