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And even knowing she hated me for it, it was worth it.
Her pussy was a wet, sloppy mess that I’d made for myself. She was dripping with juices. Her body was a writhing mass of desperation, one that I’d forged.
As she panted her way down from the height I’d taken her to, I studied her throbbing slit.
Sliding a finger in had her squeaking, then releasing a moan. She’d been empty as I tasted her, always empty. Until she was begging me for more. The sudden fullness had her crying out, and I looked up, saw the wide desperation in her eyes.
“Do you feel sorry for teasing me?” I asked her quietly.
A moan was all she was capable of.
I pressed a final kiss to her clit, then reared up onto my knees. I wanted to fuck her from behind, see that juicy ass of hers bounce, but I didn’t. Not until I could be as rough with her as my mood required.
Instead, I slid into her once more, then I bridged our fingers and gave her what she needed.
Every downward thrust, I ground down against her clit. Every upward thrust, I almost pulled out until she was gasping with her emptiness.
It took five thrusts for her to explode, and when she did, she took me with her and I barely remembered to jack off onto her belly instead of where I wanted to come. Even so, it was an ecstasy that only she had ever let me feel, an ecstasy I couldn’t live without.
***
Aoife
“You’re not ready.”
Finn frowned down at his paper. But the scowl was odd. More mulish than confused. “Ready for what?” he questioned, when I knew he had to know what I was talking about.
“Church.”
His lips firmed. “We’re not going today. Remember? I told you, I have some time off.”
“I don’t think Aidan thought that included church,” I teased, but from the glower on his face, the sulky pout, I knew something else was going on.
He’d been weird ever since Aidan had admitted to being his father. Weirder since he’d informed me that my mother’s accident had nothing to do with my dad.
It hadn’t been a long conversation. He’d just told me that it was unlikely my dad had anything to do with the hit and run. He’d shown me a witness statement that confirmed mom had stepped into traffic, her eyes on her cellphone.
And, truth be told, while I was sad atwhymom had died, I’d been relieved. I didn’t want to like Alan at the moment, but I didn’t want to think he was a murderer either.
These past few days, Finn had been inside me more times than I could count, and to be frank, I needed to go to church because my pussy was aching like it had been working out on a jungle gym.
I knew if I asked him to stop, he’d stop, but Christ, denying him was denying myself.
I was a glutton.
Crazy, but true.
Not for cake, but for Finn and that wonderful cock of his. I wonder if the Father would choke if I admitted that at confession. Gluttony was a sin, after all. But how did I phrase it in terms that wouldn’t cause the elderly priest to have a heart attack?
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, I can’t stop getting to know my husband in the Biblical sense.
Ugh, just thinking that made me want to take a running leap at him, but I was so-oo-oo-re. If Finn knew how sore, he’d be mad at me, so I figured it was better to go to church. Maybe sitting on a pew would ice my nether regions—I needed some help from somewhere.Divine intervention, literally,I thought on an inner snort.
“Come on,” I chivvied him.
He shook his head. “We’re not going to church,” he repeated.
“Since when?”
