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That version of him was good for a few things.
Massive casualties.
Mob destruction.
Oh, and a hard fuck.
That was what the Major wanted for him. That would clear his mind.
When she moved up his body, taking his mouth with hers, he didn’t see it coming.
Oh, but he heard it.
There was the click of a handcuff closing on his wrist, and another.
He gasped.
“My wife did NOT just handcuff me to a headboard, now did she?” he asked, grinning.
She ground the wetness between her legs against his dick, making him moan.
“Fuck! Carry on,” he muttered, needing more of that. “Handcuff me to whatever you want.”
Yeah, Jagger was easy.
And she liked him that way.
“Maura,” he whispered. “Give me head, before I die. I’m not playing,” he muttered.
She could do that.
Sliding back down his body, she took his erection in her hand and got ready to make him beg even more.
Someone was about to be distracted.
Then, she gave him what he wanted.
A blowjob.
His wicked wife took him into her mouth and proceeded to make him shout her name.
“Maura!” he muttered, his body bucking as she took him deep down her throat. There was nothing as amazing and simultaneously torturous as her deep-throating him.
She began blowing him hard, and the whole time, her wild husband watched, that heat crisscrossing his body.
What he was seeing…so damn hot.
It.
Was.
Erotic.
“Oh, Maura, Honey,” he muttered, as she began working him in and out of her mouth as she tugged wickedly at his balls.
Someone was pushing his limits, and he knew it.
This was what he liked.
