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Miller, the guard who had a secret obsession with me, is being treated at a psychiatric facility. After he received the medication he required, he reached out to me and apologized for his actions. I don’t think we’ll be inviting him to dinner anytime soon, but accepting his apology made everyone feel better and I don’t hold a grudge against the man, who was in need of treatment.
I turn on a tiptoe and lock eyes with Murph through the bedroom window, dragging my fingertips over the peaks of my breasts, burying them in my hair and arching my back. As expected, his face disappears from the window and I know I probably only have ten seconds before he’s in the front yard.
A victorious smile stretches across my face, my loins softening, turning wet for my husband. My love. The man who encouraged me to take a new path in my career, since the old one wasn’t making me happy. Now, I write my own music. My choreography is more cerebral, creative. I’ve moved from the pop music charts to the alternative one and finally, finally, what I do for a living is fulfilling, because I’m being true to myself.
A crunch of foliage brings my head around—and there is my giant, stomping into the yard toward me, nostrils flared. His shirt is unbuttoned and untucked, his thick, hairy middle on mouthwatering display, the zipper of his jeans straining, thanks to what’s inside.
“Get those shorts down, little girl,” he pants, jerking open his fly. “You went and made Daddy horny again, didn’t you?” When Murph reaches me, he spins me around and marches me toward the closest tree, guiding my hands high on the trunk and propping them there, his harsh breaths hitting the back of my neck. “Can’t help it, can you? Shaking that little ass in my face. Fuck.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” I whimper.
“Like hell you are.” He pulls down my shorts himself and tugs my bare backside into his lap, that fist between my thighs guiding his arousal through my slick folds from behind. “If you’re sorry, show me. Let in these inches.”
It’s still not easy seating the entirety of my husband’s shaft, but Lord, do we try. Sometimes I can take all of it. Sometimes I can’t. Today, I have a feeling there won’t be a problem. I’m so drenched and ready, my teeth are chattering with lust.
Murph sinks in halfway with a groan, muffling the sound with my shoulder so we don’t wake the sleeping children inside. “I can’t figure out how it stays to fucking tight with the way I pound away at you.” Another few inches slide into me. “Ahhh. Christ. Just a couple more, baby.”
His next thrust lifts me clean off the ground, both of us groaning, and I land back on my feet with Murph impaling me completely, filling every square inch of my sex, crowding my walls, stretching me, pulsing, pulsing.
“Shit. Shit.” He rocks into me and growls, “It’s too tight. I’m going to come.”
I widen my stance, giving him a pouty look over my shoulder. “Should I rub myself?”
“No.” He heaves the word, his fingers finding that magic spot between my legs. “This is my property, little girl. My responsibility.” He strokes my clit with his middle finger, faster, faster. “Feel that. All swollen from teasing me, aren’t you? You love working me up until I pounce.”
“You’re finally onto me,” I whimper as he bucks into me, forcing me up onto my toes, hitting me with a series of rough drives that are so perfect, so needed, my eyes roll into the back of my head. “Harder.” His flesh smacks into mine. “More.”
Murph snarls a curse into my neck, adding a second finger to the strumming of my clit, his quickening breath telling me he’s close to the edge. And he pumps into me with no mercy, assaulting my senses, turning me into a trembling mass of nerve endings, the tickle building between my thighs until I’m clawing at the tree bark, whimpers sawing in and out of my throat.
“Come on your man’s dick,” he growls, right up against my ear. “I want to feel those juices run down to my fucking balls, baby. You hear me?”
