14. Halle #2
“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and filthy. “All tied up for me like a pretty little present. He never got to see you like this, did he?” His fingers trace my spread folds, teasing my entrance without pushing in. “Bet he never made this pretty cunt lose control.”
Leaning over with a mischievous grin, he looks in my nightstand, looking for something specific. The moment he finds what he’s looking for, his eyes light up. Pulling my black wand vibrator out the drawer, he turns it on low, then he waves it at me.
“Here’s how this is going to go: If I think for a moment you’re faking an orgasm with me, I overstimulate the fuck out of your clit.
The louder your moans are, the more I know you’re enjoying it.
So let your body fucking speak to me. That wet pussy already tells me how much you’re going to love my cock. ”
He turns the wand on low and presses it firmly against my clit. The sudden buzz makes my hips jerk, and I moan, tugging at my bonds as he holds it there, watching my face intently.
“That’s it. No faking now. Let me hear every fucking sound that asshole never got to hear come out of you.”
He clicks it higher, and the vibrations intensify, sending sharp jolts through my clit and straight to my core.
I’m soaked, the wet sounds obscene as he starts circling it slowly, then presses two thick fingers into my pussy, curling them against that spot inside me.
My back arches off the bed, ropes pulling, bed creaking.
“Oh god—Cash—”
“Talk to me, Darlin’. Let me hear you.” He pumps his fingers faster, the vibrator buzzing mercilessly on my swollen clit.
Pressure builds fast and dangerous, different this time—deeper, fuller, almost too much.
“Come on, baby. Squirt for me. I know you can. Soak these fucking sheets like the filthy divorced slut you are for me.”
I shake my head, overwhelmed, but he doesn’t let up. He fucks me harder with his fingers, the vibrator on the highest setting now, grinding it perfectly against my clit.
The coil snaps violently, and I scream his name, body convulsing hard against the ropes as I come.
A hot gush floods out of me, soaking his hand, his wrist, and the bed beneath me in a messy, uncontrollable squirt.
As he works me through it, he leans down, opening his mouth to get some of my juices.
Moving the wand, his mouth latches onto my overly sensitive clit, his tongue spearing me as I keep coming, wave after wave, my thighs quivering, juices dripping down my ass.
“Fuck yes,” he groans into my pussy, voice wrecked with lust.
He pulls away only when I’m a sobbing, oversensitive mess, then unties my ankles quickly but leaves my wrists bound. He strips fast—shirt, jeans, boxers—his thick cock springing free, heavy and leaking at the tip.
He grabs a condom from his backpack and rolls it on, then looks down at me. “I can still pull out too if it makes you feel better, Darlin’.”
I don’t tell him that it wouldn’t matter if he filled me up, I just nod with lust instead.
He climbs between my spread thighs, rubbing his cock through my drenched pussy. I sit up a little, watching him, staring at his thick cock, shining from the mess he made of me.
He lines up and thrusts deep in one smooth stroke, stretching me wide around his thickness.
The sensitivity after the vibrator and orgasm makes me cry out, walls pulsating around him.
He fucks me hard and steady, hips snapping, the wet slap of skin loud in the room.
His hands grip my tied wrists for leverage as he pounds into me, mouth latching onto my nipple, sucking hard.
“Listen to the sounds this wet pussy makes after I tied you up, fucking you senseless.” He growls against my breast. “His sweet and perfect little wife, creaming all over another man’s cock. Say it. Tell me you’re my dirty little slut.”
“I—I’m your dirty slut,” I gasp, the words pulling another orgasm dangerously close.
He rails me deeper, grinding against my clit with every thrust, the ropes holding me in place for him.
“Fuck yeah you are, baby. This sweet divorced pussy is so greedy—squeezing the fuck out of my cock.” He groans, hips snapping.
When I come again, clenching and pulsing around his bare cock, he fucks me through it before pulling out at the last second. He rips off the condom, stroking himself roughly over my stomach and tits, groaning my name as thick ropes of cum paint my skin in hot, messy stripes.
We’re both panting, sweat-slicked, when he finally unties my wrists, rubbing the faint marks gently before collapsing beside me. His fingers trace through the cum on my chest, smearing it over my skin possessively.
“You did so good for me, Darlin’,” he says, voice softer now.
I just nod, unable to form a complete sentence, my body still buzzy with the intensity of what just happened.
He chuckles and heads into my bathroom only to come back a few moments later with a warm wash cloth.
He takes the time to wipe me clean and kiss my forehead.
I begin to doze off as he leaves again, coming back a few minutes later with a water and placing it on my nightstand.
“I went ‘head and locked up the house,” he says, as he pulls the covers out from underneath me and places a dry blanket on top of me as he slides in beside me.
“Thank you,” I say softly, aware that I’m drifting off to sleep.
Cash pulls me into his arms, and I don’t think I’ve felt this at peace in months. I’m almost completely off to sleep when he says, “I don’t deserve you—not one fucking bit. But I’m going to keep you anyway.”
I fall asleep knowing I’m so fucked …