Page 98 of The Bad Husband

I lower myself, looking at him, my hands on his thighs, while he undoes his zipper and pulls his hard cock out.

“Suck me like I’m yours,” he says, a playful grin on his lips, as he slowly gives me a wink.

Smiling, I take half of him into my mouth, move my tongue around him, wet his hard flesh well, and then I clench a fist around him and start bobbing my head while spreading the moisture over the entire length.

I know he likes what I’m doing by how hard he gets.

The deeper I slide him into my mouth, the more he leans toward me.

He holds the back of my hair while I move my hand and suck on him, breaking my rhythm a few times and starting over.

“It’ll become your second nature,” he says.

I get a taste of his arousal when he rocks his hips a few times, fucking my mouth.

Grunting with pleasure, he retreats to my surprise, yet I don’t have much time to ponder when he slides his arms around my thighs, lifts me up, and sets me on the counter.

At first, I fight to stay upright, propped on my elbows, yet he pushes me down.

I stare at the ceiling, with my dress crooked, my panties pulled down to my ankles, my legs open. He licks my pussy while moving his hand up and pressing two fingers against my mouth.

He does it so fast that, without thinking about it much, I open my mouth and suck on his fingers.

The more I do it, the more I open my legs, and the more passionately he eats me out.

Moans lift from my lips while I squirm on the kitchen counter with my legs over his shoulders, my panties most likely on the floor, my dress completely open, all the buttons on the floor, too.

I tilt my head up to suck on his fingers while he uses his free hand to finger me and his mouth to suck on my clit.

A surge of harsh, abrupt, tense, painful pleasure zaps through me, dragging me over the edge and making me throb inside.

Panting, I slide my hands into his hair and rock my hips before he tears his mouth away from between my legs and looks at me, his eyes lustful, unfocused, dark.

“You’re mine now,” he says, grabbing the root of his erection, positioning himself against my opening, and sliding himself in.

His hands curl around my waist as he holds me against his thrusts.

He loves how my boobs jiggle. He loves how wet I get and the sloshing sound drifting from between my legs.

He loves that I had no idea an hour ago that I’d be on the kitchen island with him wedged between my thighs, pumping into me.

He enjoys himself and picks up the pace when the headlights of a car light the foyer.

His expression darkens as he is about to come, and obviously someone pulls up in front of the house.

“She has lost her fucking mind,” he pushes through his locked teeth as he plunges into me ferociously before his body morphs into a hard frame and relief shoots through his eyes.

He closes them and keeps moving, enjoying his orgasm as I grow worried about what might happen next.

A door opens and slams outside when he reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a small remote.

With one click, he cuts the power, and the outside door automatically locks.

“Damon?”

Henrietta’s voice rings outside.

It probably won’t take long before she walks around the house and sees us through the glass wall.