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She struggled against the tight grip of his hands, holding her head like a basketball as he thrust in and out of her mouth, each time his dick going deeper, deeper, until she had him lodged down into her neck.
Abruptly, she pulled back and all that could be heard was a loud pop when his dick left her mouth. Her pussy clenched for the long, heavy length of him.
Isaiah growled in frustration. “Fuck.”
LaQuandra licked his balls again, and then she eased back up his body, her wet pussy dragging over his shaft, then resting over his dickhead.
She leaned in and kissed him.
For a second, Isaiah struggled against the kiss, but LaQuandra persisted, devouring him. Reluctantly, his mouth parted and LaQuandra’s tongue swept the roof of his mouth, before dancing around his tongue. He tasted of Jack Daniel’s and beer. And LaQuandra groaned inside his mouth. The blood heating through her veins now pooling between her legs caused her cunt to quiver.
“You fucking me tonight, Isaiah.”
“Go ’head, Quandra. Damn. I told you I’m not tryna fuck you.”
LaQuandra sucked on his earlobe. “I’m not asking. I’m your wife, and this dick is mine. So close your eyes and keep thinking about whatever bitch you thinking about. But tonight, this dick is going in my pussy.”
When her hand drifted down his abdomen and she reached for his dick, Isaiah pushed out a groan. She rubbed over the heavy weight of it, and then circled her fingers around it.
“C’mon, Quan—”
“I miss this big dick, Isaiah,” she stated huskily, cutting him off with another kiss. “My lonely pussy misses you.” She licked the side of his neck. “You like that?” she asked, all coy and needy, as she roughly stroked his length.
LaQuandra inched up and directed his dick into her body, and sank down, taking him deep. Her head fell back in delicious wonder.
Oh, oh, oh . . . it had been so, so fucking long since she’d felt him inside of her. Her breath released in a shuddering gasp. Rising and falling over him, LaQuandra rocked her hips with each downward motion, grinding her clit against him.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” she chanted. Her eyes opened and when they did, they fell on Isaiah, his body gone rigid. “Don’t you want this? Tell me how much you need this pussy?”
“Nah,” Isaiah muttered, trying to push her off, push her down to his groin. “Suck my dick, so I can nut in your throat.”
“Suck my dick so I can nut . . .” The words sliced into LaQuandra, and suddenly something inside of her snapped. And she felt it. The tears, hot and angry, sliding down her face.
Slap.
“You fucking bastard! Fuck you, Isaiah,” she snapped. She slapped him again.
Isaiah grabbed her hand. “Yo, chill with the fucking hands.”
LaQuandra struggled against him, trying to break free from his grasp. “Am I that goddamn black and ugly to you, huh, Isaiah, that I’m only good enough to suck your fucking dick?”
They tussled and his dick slipped out of her wet pussy. And then she landed on her back, pinned down into the mattress.
“Get the fuck off me,” LaQuandra spat. “I’m goddamn sick of you hurting me, Isaiah! If you want that bitch, go be with her. I’m done fighting to keep you. I’m done fighting you. I’m done fighting her. You win, Isaiah. That bitch wins. Just go fucking be with her.”
She squirmed in his grip. “Get off . . . me. Or I’ll scream.”
“Not until you calm the fuck down,” he rasped, suddenly feeling the effects of the alcohol flowing through his veins draining from his system.
All he’d wanted to do was bust a nut in peace. Not deal with this shit, this bitch.
He had both her wrists snagged in one big-handed grip up over her head.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted in a gravelly voice.
LaQuandra stopped fighting, stopped trying to get free from his grasp, and seconds later, his grip on her wrists loosened, slightly.
“I swear, Quandra, I never wanted to hurt you.”
