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Now, this will happen on my terms. I’m already ashes. But now, I will rise like a fucking phoenix. We will rise like a phoenix.
I face the man I love. He’s waiting for me, hard and aroused, but still waiting. I love him so much I might burst.
With a slight smile, I get up. My surroundings tilt a little, but it’s okay. I’ll survive. Abel’s hands fall to his sides, his hair all messy as he looks up at me. I fist the hem of my dress and take it off in one shot. Then off come my bra and my panties. I don’t stop or think until I’m all naked and flushed, standing in front of him.
If there’s a name for what happens once you’ve passed the stage of lust, then that’s Abel’s name, in this moment. His nostrils flare with every drag of his breath. His teeth are bared. Every vein on his arms, on the side of his neck, is bursting through the skin.
I put both hands on his shoulders and straddle his lap on the bed. My wet, soft pussy brushes over his jean-covered bulge.
“Then let them watch,” I whisper, bringing my hands down to his fly and opening the zipper. “Let them watch what you do to me. If you’re a fiend for me, then I’m your little monster. I have sharp nails like you have sharp teeth. If you’re sick, then I’ve got a little fever of my own.”
Once his hot, hard dick is out and in my hands, I line it up with my hungry cunt, his pre-cum-oozing crown brushing against my folds. He hisses and I moan. Then, in the next breath, I slide onto his erection, stabbing my core with the most delicious knife God’s ever made. My Abel’s cock.
Instantly, his palms grab onto my ass and his hips jerk up. I’m in heaven, my head thrown back, my long hair probably tickling the back of his hands as I moan, loud and high.
When I lower my face, I kiss his lips and he bites mine. “If you eat me out like a dog, then I’m going to fuck you like I’m your bitch in heat.”
I begin rocking, grinding on his length, slowly, carefully. This is a new position for me. Abel’s always the one in charge. But I’m determined to make it good, make him feel everything that he makes me feel when he’s moving inside me. So I twist my hips, go side to side, letting him feel the soggy walls of my core.
“Is that right, Pixie?” he rasps, watching me fuck him, watching me find my own rhythm. “You’re gonna fuck me like that, huh?”
I nod, now rising up on my knees before sliding back down on his erection. “Unh…”
Abel helps me glide over him, fisting the flesh of my ass. “God, Pixie. You aren’t as good as everyone thought you were.”
I look into his dark eyes. The eyes of a demon. A demon I love and adore. “I guess not.”
He smacks my ass, making me gasp and squirm over his length. Chuckling, he does it again. And again, as I move up and down and find a pace.
“Maybe your parents should’ve spanked you more. Or maybe Father Knight should’ve purged the sin out of you.”
God, why’s that so arousing? It makes my cunt clasp him even more tightly. This is sick and wrong and so fucking beautiful. Because it’s mine. It’s ours. Abel was right. Nothing we ever do together can be wrong. The relationship between a wife and a husband — a man and his woman — is the most sacred of all. Sacred and unique and pure.
“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” I confess, picking up speed as my knees grind into the mattress and my body jumps. “I was born this way. For you. For my sick Abel.”
“Fuck yeah, you were born for me.” With his free hand, he winds my hair around his wrist and pulls my head back, arching me up.
He noses the bottom of my throat, my breastbone, the valley of my tits, and I close my eyes, sighing in wonder and pleasure and satisfaction. I have no control over this fucking now. Maybe I never did. It’s okay.
With my hair in his hand, he fucks into me. He moves his hips and pushes into my channel. I’m suspended over him on my knees, kept steady by his hand, while I grip his shoulders and hold on to him. He’s riding me hard, brutal, his rough jean-covered thighs smacking into my flesh, leaving it all raw and red and horny.
He bites the flesh of my breast, making my eyes water and my mouth sputter. He tugs on my hair viciously, while he scrapes his teeth over my nipple, whispering, “You feel good, Pixie?”
