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Glory’s orgasm barrels through her like a high speed commuter train through a European countryside. Her legs fly up to lock around my head, snapping my shoulders forward into the cradle of her lap as though there’s any other place on earth I’d choose to be. Her hips grind against my chin as I let my fingers play gently inside her, milking her climax for so long my knees creak and my back cramps.
I don’t care. I’ll stay right here with my face buried in my wife’s cunt and dead enemies on the floor all around us for as long as it takes her to come until she blacks out.
Thirteen
Glory
With my head thrown back to stare at the ceiling, I can almost pretend I’m not naked in a murder house with a trigger happy mobster between my thighs. For days the knowledge that our marriage would require consummation has been an impending weight on my psyche. At first the notion of allowing another man, one known for being as merciless and brutal as my dead husband, into my body was terrifying.
His actions have slowly turned the tide of my fear and left behind floodpools of unexpected longing. And maybe it’s a reflection of a fucked up decade as a sadistist’s plaything, but there’s an ache in me to see some of the savagery Hunter is known for turned on me.
I want to feel his control unspool over me while he mauls me with his hands. His mouth. His cock. Even before he hoisted me onto this counter and devoured my body like a sexual thanksgiving, my mind was picturing his dark head nestled against my core. I don’t even care anymore if this lust burning through me, this drive to allow him to conquer my body, is twisted. A sign I am psychological unwell? So be it.
“Hunter…” I’m not sure what I’m asking. I just…need.
“Yes, my queen. Say my name while I lap up all this honey. Say the name of your husband. Your king. Say it and I’ll give you everything.” His growl vibrates against my sensitive clit, nearly painful in intensity.
Hunter. Husband. Make me yours. Make it hurt.” The plea stutters out of me, nearly impossible to string together coherently, but he knows what I need.
“Glory, baby, I can’t-” He wants to be gentle for me. Treat me like a queen. Hunter has placed me on a pedestal as though I’m as untouchable as a reflection in a mirror. Fragile, like a flower easily crushed under a boot.
Glory Kingston was fragile that way. Until she wasn’t. Glory Allard is fragile in the way landmines in war zones are fragile. The metamorphosis I began the night I put an end to Xavier Kingston has been blossoming with every promise Hunter keeps.
I untangle my hand from where I’d snarled my fingers into his hair to hold him in place against me. I brush my thumb over a narrow gash above his right eyebrow, wondering how close the fight was here that one of the Grimalt fucks got a hit in. The reminder that Hunter saved the daughter of my soul, for me, that he bled, for me, strikes like a hot iron through the frozen chains around my heart.
“I don’t need gentle, my king. I need you.” I wonder if my eyes look as fevered and desperate as his do when he looks up at me from between my thighs.
“You have me. All of me, Glory.” He rises to his feet, towering over me with his hips notched into the cradle of my lap. His hands go to the buckle of his slacks and I register how naked I am while he’s fully clothed. I want to see him, all of him, but the quick work he’s making of undoing his pants make it obvious this won’t be the moment for that.
The clank of the metal buckle hitting the floor is all the warning I get before he’s tucking the waist of his boxers under his swollen balls and notching himself at my entrance. The ruddy head of his wide shaft rubs back and forth over my clit, shiny with a mix of my orgasm and his precum. Thick strings of clear cum paint my lower lips and make me slick enough, I hope, to take him.
Hunter’s body is huge and proportional. Everywhere, it seems. I know anatomically we’re made to fit, but seeing the way the veiny thickness of him splits between my pussy lips has me catching my breath in nervousness. My imagination conjures an image of his fat cock splitting me in two and my moan draws his attention from where he’s been staring at where our bodies meet.
“I fucking own you, Glory. Every blink of those enchanted purple eyes. Every candy apple flavored lick of that tart pussy. Every atom of existence that is you belongs to me. All. Fucking. Mine.” He growls.
The tip of him, thick and wet with our mutual arousal, shoves an inch into me and I scream. It’s agony. It’s bliss. He’s too big and my channel clenches tight to resist his invasion even as his thumb dances over my clit to bewitch my body into granting him passage.
“Take me, dammit. Open that cunt and accept your king, Glory Allard. Accept this fuck and consummate this marriage for good.” The stalk of his erection forces its way deeper and deeper into me, his hips swiveling to drag the trunk of him against my clit even as he holds my lower body still.
An eternity passes in the instant between each racing heartbeat until he’s buried as deep into me as humanly possible. The hard base of him shoved indecently against my opening. Our eyes meet and drop in mutual accord to witness the way he’s stuffing me to overflowing.
“Please, Hunter, please.” My begging brings a look of satisfaction to his face, and slowly he pulls out of me until just the broad head of him is left inside.
He begins a steady pace of thrusting deep and long, mixed with stuttering jabs that slam into my G-spot. Over and over, relentless as another orgasm shimmers on the horizon. I try to raise my legs to wrap around him, but my limbs are utterly motionless. Hunter bends his knees and reaches to lift my calves over his shoulder without pulling out of me and the new position has him striking my G-spot on every stroke, not just the shallow ones.
He leans in to kiss me, capturing my moans and fucking me with his tongue the way he’s devastating me with his cock. My head is pushed back against a cabinet, nowhere to go, as my air supply dwindles. We pass breath back and forth in the kiss, and stars begin to burst behind my tightly closed eyelids. Just when the sting of asphyxiation is prickling along my fingers and toes, Hunter releases me and allows me to gasp in fresh oxygen.
“Even your fucking air is mine, Glory. Say it. Tell me you are mine.” His possessive demands feel so different from Xavier’s dispassionate ownership.
“I’m yours, Hunter. I-I love you!” The declaration shocks us both, but as his hips stutter against me, thick ropes of cum blasting deep inside my body, I realize it’s true. Hunter deserves my love, and everything inside me wants to give it to him.
“Dammit, Glory. You can’t say shit like that. You say that shit when I’m balls deep inside you and I got no choice but to unload in that perfect cunt. Too fast, dammit.” Hunter’s grumbling, but the pride in his voice is unmistakable as he pumps the last few bursts of his pleasure into me.
As soon as his orgasm draws to an end, he drops to his knees again and slams three fingers into me while his mouth goes to work on my tender clit. He’s working me over and ripping a punishing orgasm through me even as he plugs my entrance, trapping his cum in my body.
“Of course I love you, too, wife. My queen. I love you in the ways that empires are built upon. The ways men go to war for. I love you the way the moon loves the sun, chasing it through the sky in desperation for just a moment more to bask in warmth.” He vows.
“Yes, but do you love me enough to get me the fuck out of this house of horrors?” I tease.
