“Hear that, wife? She can see your cunt.” Then he dismisses the maid, who scurries out of the room like her ankles are onfire, but they’re nowhere near as warm as my cheeks. If only the ground would open and swallow me whole.
“You embarrassed her,” I growl at him.
“You did that all on your fucking own,” he says, still holding me bent in half by the nape like he’s not sure what to do with me. “Are you trying to piss me off? Is that it?”
“I wasn’t trying to?—”
My words are cut off abruptly when he jostles me. “I’m trying not to snap your neck like a fucking twig. If you know what’s good for you, shut your mouth.” Releasing me, he unzips his pants. I’m still holding on to my ankles, not daring to move until he gives me permission. Darian is pissed off, and while I love the unpredictable nature of him when he’s like this, I’m smart enough to be obedient.
He bunches my panties in his grip and pulls them taut against my sensitive clit. A sharp bite of pain follows, and my loud gasp echoes in the room. With a hard yank, he rips them clean off, then bends over me and forces the damp fabric into my mouth. “You like to piss me off, wife?”
I feel him straighten behind me and line his cock up with my entrance as the blood in my veins rushes with anticipation and heat swirls between my legs.
“Let me remind you what happens when you flaunt what’s mine to other men.” Impaling me on his massive cock, he buries himself balls deep as my muffled scream bounces off the walls.
He’s too big, and his cock feels like it’s splitting me in two. Panting breaths rush through my nostrils, and white-hot pain, mixed with liquid pleasure, pulsates between my legs.
I love how cruel he is. I love that he cares little for my pleasure when he’s angry, and I love it even more when he uses me to get off.
As he fucks me on his cock, bruising my hips with his fingers, my pussy ripples around his veiny length while the sound ofslapping skin mixes with his grunts and my whimpering moans. I desperately hold on to my ankles, my hair swishing on the floor. Everything tightens, from my pussy to my lower belly, and I dig my nails into my ankles as he releases my hip to press his thumb against my ring of muscle.
“Is this hole feeling left out of the fun, Mrs. Delacroix?” He spits on my ass, massaging my exit, and pushes his thumb into my back hole.
My moans grow louder around the soaked panties in my mouth, and Darian thrusts harder and deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside me that has me needy for more.
A rush of pleasure starts at my toes and rushes through me until I’m coming so hard, I don’t know if I’m screaming or sobbing.
Darian fucks me through it until the last violent wave has receded then guides me to my knees and pulls my hair into a ponytail. With his big cock gripped in his other hand, shiny in my arousal, he removes the panties and dips the engorged crown into my mouth while his hooded eyes drink their fill of me, ruined, on my knees.
“Let’s see if we can smudge that lipstick some more.” He rubs his leaking cock all over my lips before sliding back inside my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat.
I gag, and he pulls out, but not before he rams himself down my narrow throat, forcing me to swallow around his thick length or choke. My stomach spasms before I can get a grip of my initial panic, so I focus on breathing through my nose until my throat molds around his dick.
“Such a good wife,” Darian praises, stroking my hair soothingly.
When he pulls out this time, I inhale greedy breaths, and he cups my cheek, trailing his thumb through the mascara streaks. “Do you understand now why I have to punish you?”
I nod around a sob as tears roll down my cheeks. My body already craves another release.
“Sshh,” he soothes, cupping my chin. “Don’t cry, baby. You know it turns me feral.”
I sob harder, my knees trembling on the hard floor.
“Fuck,” he breathes and drops his chin to his chest. “You make me want to hurt you, Mrs. Delacroix. You’ve never looked more perfect than you do now, crying on your knees for your husband.” His eyes gleam with approval, and he strokes his cock while tangling his fingers in my hair as though I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
He cups my chin again and brings my teary eyes to his, the muscles tensing and shifting in his arms beneath the straining fabric as he pleasures himself with a hungry, primal need that has my heart pounding out of rhythm. “Tongue out, Mrs. Delacroix.”
I stick it out to please him, and he circles the pad of his thumb over it before he straightens up and jacks his dick in long, firm strokes that border on frenzied. The heat in his eyes burns brighter, and he tips his head back, his neck elongating, as a carnal growl reverberates through his muscled chest. I gaze up at him in awe, desperate for a taste of him, but he makes no move to use me to get off.
Darian is a force of nature. Every woman’s wet dream and worst nightmare. The kind of man we think we can handle, but there’s always a tinge of fear laced with the wanting.
His jaw tightens, and our eyes clash in a collision of chaos and primitive desires. Strings of salty cum squirt on my tongue, causing me to flinch, but he grips my hair to keep me in place.
I stare up at him with hazy eyes, goading him to show me his true self, the darkness that rears its head when he lowers his guard.
Another squirt of creamy cum lands on my nose, followed by a third one on my cheek, and Darian grunts, his fingers twitching in my hair. He’s breathing like a bull. We gaze at each other for long moments—me on my knees with his semen dripping down my face like a branding, and him with his hand in my hair.
He releases me and steps back. “Get changed into something more appropriate.”
