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He smacks my butt again.
Once. Twice. The more he does it, the warmer my skin feels, the more sensitized it becomes. My cream is dripping down my thighs, and I try to keep facing forward, focusing on the carved pattern of the dark oak bed frame.
He slides his fingers into my pussy, and I moan. God. He knows exactly what I like, and shows it—teasing my folds with his digits, then quickly inserting three fingers into my cunt. I clench my thighs around his hand, desperate to trap him there until I come. He motions to move, and I undulate my hips. He once said he loves how I work my ass, swaying it, and I’ll do anything to get him aroused and ready to fuck me.
“Jack…”
He jerks his hand out of me, and replaces it with his big dick, thrusting it inside me hard, quick and deep. I inhale, trying to adjust to his large size. When I slowly exhale, I let my inner walls cling to his meat, every part of me wanting this amazing man back in my life. Back to the way it should be.
He holds the sides of my waist, and fucks me relentlessly, ramming into my cunt with precise thrusts. The sound of his skin slapping mine slices through the air. I nearly lose my balance, but mentally brace myself. Maybe this is how he’s going to process what happened—through sex.
“You like me fucking you like this, don’t you? Splitting your naughty cunt in two.”
“Yes,” I hiss.
He withdraws from my pussy, a cold draft replacing the warmth of his dick. The sudden removal makes me tremble, confused. Then, he dips his fingers into my pussy again, coating his fingers with my cream. I soften, mellowing, rocking my fingers into his hips. Ripples of anticipation travel through me. I want him inside me again—crave him the way I never thought possible. My heart skips a beat or two, and I give a long-winded moan.
He parts my folds, then teases my clit, already throbbing. I’m close, on the brink of an orgasm, and perhaps he senses that, because he groans, then withdraws his fingers from my pussy abruptly. Of course—this is part of the punishment. I’m coming under his command.
Groaning, he withdraws his fingers, and I feel him touching my ass again, his digits damp with my essence.
He palms the area between my cheeks. He uses my cream on his fingers to lubricate my hole, taking his fingers inside, teasing me, touching the rim. I moan. We’ve had anal sex several times in the past, and he taught me to enjoy it, even crave for it. But usually he took me out, played with my ass, and dropped hints throughout the evening.
This is unplanned. But the anticipation for sex has gotten the best of me, and a surge of arousal moves through me. I clutch the sheets, anticipating the pain and the pleasure—unsure about which one I welcome first.
Jack slides the tip of his cock in, and I moan. “You like me to play with your ass, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I hiss, my head bobbing.
“Whose ass is this?”
Sweat slicks my arms and legs, glistening my skin. “Yours.”
He smacks my ass, the pressure delivering a hot sting. I yelp, and realize this is a show of ownership. I curl the sheets in my hands so hard I can barely see any flesh. He removes his cock halfway, giving my insides temporary relief, then slams it back inside, hard and deep.
Maybe it’s the overstimulation, but I feel tendrils of pleasure swirling within me, teasing all my nerve endings. I rock my hips to meet his, in an effort to increase the pressure to an unbearable point for both of us. But he soon probably realizes my plan, for he stops fucking me, disengages from me and switches me around.
Now, my back is on the mattress. He parts my thighs, and I open my legs wide, spread eagling for him. After two near orgasms, I’m frustrated, aroused and confused. For how much longer can he keep this up? Not giving me what I need?
Biting my lip, I tell myself to relax. He needs to be in charge right now, and if giving him what he wants will help us fix our marriage, I’m in. I love this man. A warm sensation invades me from top to bottom, and my eyes search for his.
He puts the thick tip of his cock against my entrance, rubbing it in a circular movement. My pussy tingles, a fresh coat of cream covering my folds. I squirm, but try hard not to lift my hips in a silent hint for him to go faster and fuck me.
My gaze meets his, and shivers of awareness run down my spine. I see resentment, I see regret, but I also see desire in his eyes. Flecks of gold flicker around his green irises, and his expression is hard. He’s lost in thought, so I move a bit, just enough to remind him to move forward. To keep going.
Then, he blinks, out of his trance, and shakes his head. Faster than I could protest, he slides off me and says, “I can’t do this.”
4
Jack
“Mr. Harrison called. Twice,” Andrea, my 20-something personal assistant, says, popping her head into my office.
“I’ll call him later.” With a deep breath, I touch my temples to get rid of the pounding headache since I walked away from my marriage, three weeks ago.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she says, with a wink at the end. Damn it. Her skirt gets shorter by the day, and the top button of her blouse seems to magically disappear.
My body stirs at the thought of banging that young piece of ass. Then, guilt washes over me, and I rock back in my chair. What the fuck happened?
