Epilogue 2. Dean
My wife is so fucking tight. The way her pussy grips my cock has me seeing stars as I ram into her from behind.
The wooden desk in her office scratches against the floor with every thrust, leaving lines in the oak wood floor but I couldn’t give a shit, I can replace the floor but I’ll never replace my wife.
“Fuck, Dean.. don’t stop.” She moans, her skirt bunched around her waist with black stockings that are practically painted onto her luscious thighs.
I couldn’t help myself, as soon as she got off a call with her editor, I needed to have her and seeing her in this fucking skirt makes me want to rip it to shreds so no one else gets to see her in it.
Lifting my hand from her hips, I crack it against her plump ass and she moans heavily against the desk then turns her face to the side to look back at me, those ocean eyes filled with heated lust.
“Be my good boy and do it again.” Her taunt has me thrusting deeper inside her, fucking her to the point where she has to push her fingernails into the desk to keep steady.
Raising my hand again, I swing it, making sure it lands right on the globe of her ass.
The sound splits the room and she cries out in ecstasy, pushing her pussy back on my cock, using me to fuck herself.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this baby, bent over the desk, your ass red from my hand.
” I say through gritted teeth. My wife moans at my words and I piston my hips into her, our skin slapping together until I can feel my impending orgasm coiling at the base of my spine, my balls drawing up tightly.
“You better fucking come for me wife. I want this whole world to know who you belong to. Who fucks you senseless every night, who’s cock you cum all over.”
Twisting my hand into her perfectly curled hair, I use the thick locks to pull her upwards so her back is plastered against my chest. She pants in my hold as I keep one hand in her hair and the other around her middle, sliding my cock in and out of her, feeling her juices soak my skin.
“Who owns you baby?” I murmur into her ear, inhaling her signature sweet scent that drives me insane.
“My husband.” She moans out.
The title has me thrusting deeper into her. “And who is your husband?”
“You, you’re my husband.”
“Damn right I am.” I say through gritted teeth and ram into her again, keeping her locked in place. “Now come all over your husband’s cock.”
Fire ignites my blood as she falls apart in my arms, her pussy milking me dry and I struggle to keep standing as my own orgasm fires through my system, sending me into a whole other universe.
“I love you, Dean.” She murmurs tiredly in my arms and I pull her closer, bringing my nose to her hair again. “And I love you, pretty girl.”
Seeing my wife thrive brings a sense of pride I’ve never felt before and nothing brings me more joy than sitting on our porch with Lyla and Stormy, our younger rescue German Shepherd, beer in hand, watching her personally sign boxes and boxes of her book.
Everyday she’s worked tirelessly on writing her story in the hopes that it will help someone else out there in the world who’s been where she has.
This woman has changed my life for the better, and I thank whoever is listening every day that I get to claim her as my own. To have her as my wife for the rest of my life.