I kiss her hot and deep and messy. And then I pull away, just slightly. I need to know that I’m not alone in this desperate, obsessive need for her.
And she does. She comes to me. Her hands fist in my shirt to pull me closer as she’s the one to initiate the kiss.
My tongue slides against hers and her body melts against my own. That innocent surrender is everything. It’s proof shebelongs to me. Her every breath, every soft sound, every sigh against my mouth. Mine.
Then I turn her. Bend her forward until her hands hit the storage shelf, her palms flat against the wood. Her back is to my chest, my cock pressing against her lower back. I lean down and put my mouth at her ear.
“Just this once, you’re gonna have to be real quiet, baby,” I murmur. “No matter how hard I fuck you. Can you do that for me?”
“I’ll try,” she breathes.
I kiss her neck. “I’m too jealous to let anyone else hear those pretty sounds you make when I’m fucking you.”
Her fingers close around the metal shelf. Already she’s got a tight grip on it, like she knows she’s going to need it.
I push her skirt up.
She’s wearing a lacy thong that makes her ass look incredible, blue lace against her skin, barely there. I take one second to appreciate it and then push it to the side because I’m too far gone for patience right now. I dip my fingers into her and find her slick and hot and clenching and I exhale hard against the back of her neck.
“You’re soaked,” I say roughly. “Sucking my dick made you this wet?”
“Yes.” She turns her head and gives me a little smile. “I love it.”
So close to: I love you.
I’ll take it.
“Sweetheart,” I rasp, “I really am the luckiest man in the world.”
I notch my cock at her entrance and push in. One hard thrust and I’m all the way in to the hilt.
She gasps and her back arches and her hands grip the shelf hard. I stay buried inside her for a moment, feeling her stretcharound me, feeling her body adjust to the sudden fullness of me.
“Breathe, baby,” I murmur against her neck.
My hand runs up her spine slowly, over the soft fabric of her sweater, all the way to the back of her neck where I grip gently, my fingers wrapping around her nape.
Then I move.
The shelf rattles against the wall with the first thrust and I don’t care, I don’t care about anything except the heat of her and the moan that comes out of her and the way she pushes her ass back against me.
I set a hard driving rhythm, my hips snapping into her, my hand tightening at her nape with every thrust, and I feel her everywhere, tight and hot and perfect around me, her body taking everything I give her and pulling me deeper.
“Your pussy is so fucking perfect,” I tell her, low against her ear. “You were made for me. So soft and tight but feel how you take this dick. Feel your hot, needy cunt gripping me like that.”
She makes a sound that would carry if the bar wasn’t loud.
“Quiet,” I remind her, teeth grazing her ear.
She tries, muffling her moans into her hand. I thrust harder, my blood turning molten at how she’s trying and failing. She’s not in control right now.
I am.
And she trusts me with that completely.
That trust is the most intoxicating thing of all.
“Just can’t help it, can you?” I say tenderly against her ear, lips brushing the shell of it. “My good, sweet wife, who loves a hard, dirty fuck.”
