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“I’m not a very nice man,” I admit, still watching the way her tits sway as she straddles me.
But when Sammi straddles me, it’s not my cock she’s after. It’s my mouth.
God, I love my wife.
She positions herself over my face, hugging the scruff of my jaw tight with her gorgeous, perfect thighs. When she lets go of my wrists, I seize the opportunity to slip my hands beneath her skirt and grab her ass, pulling her cunt down onto my lips.
She tastes like salt and honey, like the sweetness of sunshine after a long day in the ocean.
She’s already wet when she mounts me, and when I slip my tongue between the lips of her gorgeous, perfect cunt, she only gets wetter.
“Moan for me, Lock,” my woman commands.
And damned if I don’t moan louder than I’ve ever moaned before.
She rides me like a dream. No—better than a dream. A man has no control over the bits and pieces of nighttime visions his subconscious conjures up.
And while Sammi might be the one riding my lips, there’s no pretending that I have anything but complete control over her.
I have control over my wife’s gorgeous, perfect hips as they buck against my mouth. I curl my fingers around her gorgeous, perfect hip bones and move her back and forth at my own pace, like the steady roll of the ocean’s waves.
I have control over her clit—goddamn, I have theutmostcontrol over her clit. I control how it moves beneath my tongue, how fast, how slow—
I have control over the gasps she makes, the little purrs and coos of passion. The way her lips fall open in a gorgeous, perfect O while she approaches an O of her own. The way those same lips pull back into a snarl as I tease her.
I control the way I push her just to the brink of orgasm then steal it away from her like a thief in the night, just to hear her moans turn into whimpers. To feel her get desperate in the way she tries to take her pleasure from my tongue.
Sammi wanted to ride me, but she didn’t study marine biology for nothing. And now, she’s a boat out on the ocean of my desire—and I control the way she rises and falls until I allow her to reach the peak of her longing.
And then, I control the way she crashes down into the sea of my lust.
“Lock!” she cries out, twining her fingers into my hair. She pulls on it hard, like she thinks she can rein me in—
Silly little thing, my wife is. No woman can control the waters of the earth.
Not even a goddess like her.
She comes for me, hard and fast and with desperation. When I finally give it to her, I don’t hold back—and she can’t hold anything back at all, either.
Then, opportunist that I am, I pull her off my mouth and position her cunt against my cock.
“Beg for it, Sammi,” I say with that smile she hates so much.
Sammi takes a deep breath. I watch her lips spread out into a pleased little smile of her own.
“Call me your wife again, and maybe I will,” she says back to me.
Then, the way she always seems to do just when I’m beginning to enjoy myself, she slaps me dead across the face.
But I’m a man who’s been known to roll with the punches…
And God, I love a woman who can throw a good punch.
