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I watch as she tries to wrap her small hand around my shaft. I’m too big for her fingers to touch.
“I didn’t say use your hands, Scarlett. What did I tell you?”
Lifting her head, she peeks at me through her thick lashes. “My throat,” she answers, a quiver in her voice.
“Then give me your fucking throat,” I hiss between my teeth, unable to conceal my anger or the unequivocal need in my tone. “And keep your hands on the bed.”
My cock, already so hard I could hammer fucking nails, is angled upward, so she doesn’t have to fish for it. The moment her warm breath flutters over the head, my balls draw up. The touch of her soft lips is heaven. But it’s the feel of her sliding my shaft into her warm mouth and the head meeting the tightness of her throat that almost has me losing control.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I groan, baring my teeth.
Gathering her hair in one hand, I fist it in my grip and slowly slide her off my cock. When just the head is left inside, I give her no warning before I’m ramming my hips forward, wedging myself further down her tight throat. All of her oxygen is cut off, so she can’t make a sound, but I feel the ripple effect of her throat convulsing as she gags. It damn near drives me mad.
Once her airway is clear, she lets out a moan of pleasure. She gets just as much pleasure, if not more, from me using her throat like a fuck toy.
With each forceful thrust, I push a little bit further down. I hold her head still, her nose smashed against my pelvic bone and her chin rests against my tight balls. Her nails dig into the comforter as her throat convulses around me. She tries to pull her head back, needing to draw in air, but I don’t allow it. I smash her face against me, releasing a deep growl as the tightness nearly strangles the head of my cock.
My eyes are drawn to the layering of scars on her back. The small raised dots are no bigger than the tip of a ballpoint pen. They range in color from a light peach for the older ones to a deeper shade of red for the newer ones. All made by my hands after Scarlett begged me to give them to her.
I shouldn’t be here. I should be home with Cat. My sweet, beautiful, gentle Cat.
But I’m not. I’m here. Doing something I shouldn’t. Fulfilling a need that was dormant until Scarlett appeared in my life. A need that eats away tiny bits of my soul each time I’m with her. I’m a different person when I’m with this woman. The person I used to be. A person I’m not when I’m near my beautiful Cat. I hate this part of me. I hate it, but I can’t help but relish in it when I’m with Scarlett.
“Enough!” I bark, yanking Scarlett’s mouth away. She falls back on her ass and lifts her head, her teary eyes meeting mine. Black streaks from her mascara and eyeliner run down her cheeks. She looks so fucking beautiful it’s almost painful to set my eyes on her.
Anger slithers up my spine, making my movements jerky. Scarlett looks up at me, her eyes imploring, begging for something only I can provide. The look pisses me off. My anger isn’t directed at her, but at myself. I’m the one who’s guilty here. Scarlett is innocent, despite the darkness that resides in her that makes her the way she is. Despite the temptation she represents.Ipursued her all those years ago, not the other way around.I’mthe one who gave in.I’mthe one who’s betraying his spouse.
Shaking my head, I push all thoughts of Cat from my mind. For this to continue, I can’t think about my wife. And I want to continue this thing that Scarlett and I have. I need it like I need my next breath.
“Turn around,” I tell her in a harsh tone. “Stay on your hands and knees.”
She complies, presenting her ass to me, and I reward her by stroking my callused palm over her smooth cheeks. She moans and arches her back, her hair hanging over one shoulder.
Keeping my gaze on her, I raise my hand and swing it forward. I slap her right ass cheek so hard that my palm stings. It’s not a love tap that a lot of couples do for sexual gratification. It’s hard enough to leave an angry red handprint from just one slap. Most people would scurry away. Scarlett doesn’t. She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth as her eyes light up with fire.
I slap her twice more in the same place. I glance down and see the evidence of her desire leaking from her pussy. She’s so wet, the thin material covering her can’t hold all of the juices, so her thighs glisten with her arousal.
Pain is what gets Scarlett off. It’s what she needs. And I’m willing to give it to her because I can let out the darker side of my desires which I refuse to inflict on Cat. Mutual satisfaction.
“Tell me what you want, Scarlett,” I demand, delivering another blow that has her hoarse cries filling the room. “You want more?”
“Yes,” she hisses breathlessly. “I want more. I want it harder. Make me hurt, Hunter.”
Gritting my teeth, I slap her other cheek. The one I’ve just abandoned is bright red. Her other cheek needs to match it.
As her left cheek becomes as red as her right, Scarlett pants, little sounds of pleasure coming from her parted lips. My palm stings like a bitch and my heart beats like it’s trying to escape my chest.
Holding Scarlett by the waist, I pull her until her sore ass meets my hard cock. It wedges itself between the globes of her ass and the soaked material of her thong rubs against my shaft. I yank the material away, pushing it past her ass and planting the length of my cock between her cheeks.
Leaning over her back, I grip her hair and yank her head back. “Where do you want it?” I growl the question in her ear.
“My ass,” she answers.
My tongue lashes with hers, craving her. I love the taste of Scarlett on my tongue. Almost as much as I love the taste of Cat.
Again, I force Cat from my mind. It’s wrong of me to think of one woman while I’m with another.
Leaning away from Scarlett, I grab the base of my cock and angle the leaking tip at her entrance, sliding it through the juices seeping from her.
