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He gives up, putting his hands over me again. “I’m not a pervert,” he grumbles. “And I’m not grumpy either.”
“You sound pretty grumpy.”
“Yes, you married a grumpy pervert, and I married a bipolar… pervert. You’re also a pervert,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Alright, but you’re the one with your hand on my ass and a bulge in your pants that’s far too big to be your car keys.”
“Only a pervert would notice that,” he replies, raising his hips and pressing his erection against my leg.
“Maybe you’d like to teach me a lesson,” I say, smirking a bit as his eyes grow. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.
24
Danya
Ipress Taylor’s face into the bed hard, trying to muffle her moans with the mattress as I pump into her from the back. I have a thumb in her butt and the other fingers gripping her pale ass. The freckles across it make it look like a tortilla about to be slathered in my cream.
She ought to know better than to taunt me like this. Someone could walk into the room at any moment and catch me making an example out of her, and she’d be the only one embarrassed by it. I’m not shy about my naked body the way that women are.
I grip the back of Taylor’s neck, squeezing it hard as I dig in deeper.
God, she feels so good. Her insides are a tight pink sleeve around my cock, milking me for every last drop each time I have sex with her. She never fails to make me cum so hard my skin prickles, and the sound of her moans give me a surge of power. I could fuck her like this every day and never grow tired of it.
If that counts as an addiction, then I need rehab.
But I wouldn’t go. I’d let Taylor ruin me with her perfect body, and I’d die in peace knowing that I gave her as much of me as I could while I was still alive.
I feel the swell of pleasure in my pelvis first, radiating up toward my brain like the fallout from a nuclear explosion. Only this is the wave that precedes the explosion. The feeling afterword is like a shot of heroin in my veins.
“Take it, baby,” I groan, tilting my head back as the pleasure erupts inside of me.
I can barely hear her screaming in pleasure as I’m consumed by the tidal wave of pure bliss. I shudder from the silky-smooth pulsating waves that flow through my body, wrapping around my legs and sapping all the energy left in me.
I fall to the side, pulling Taylor down with me and feeling the heat of her back against my chest. Her body is so small, but it produces enough energy to make the whole room hot.
She pulls the sheets up over her, humming a pleasant tone and turning to face me. Her face is flushed and sweaty, which is my favorite look. Women like her spend hours in the bathroom getting ready, but they look their best with their hair plastered across their face and their lips red and puffy.
“You’re a god,” she says, looking into my eyes with pure admiration.
I wish I could be one for her, but I’m just a man.
“Lower your standards and I’ll try to meet them,” I reply with a laugh.
“You’ve already met them. In fact, you’re so far beyond them that I’m not even sure you’re human.”
“You think so?”
“I know it.”
I feel bashful from her praise because it’s so honest. I don’t know what to say in response, so I push her hair behind her ear and stroke her cheek with the back of my hand. Her skin is so soft and warm.
“Danya,” she says, sitting up on her elbow. “Can I tell you something?”
“Anything,” I reply, matching her intensity.
“And you won’t think I’m crazy.”
“I think it’s too late for that.”
