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Her gasps stuttered. “You want to watch—to watch me masturbate.”
“I want to watch you come.”
Her face filled my screen. Her eyes closed, and her neck stretched.
“Are you dripping for me? Is your pussy soaked?” I traced the still tender skin on my chest.
With her eyes on mine, she showed me her wet fingers.
“Put them in your mouth.”
She hesitated. “How drunk are you? Are you going to remember this tomorrow?”
“Sbronzato,fucking drunk, and yes, I’m going to remember every moment of this. Suck them, Ally. Tell me how you taste.”
Her pink tongue slipped over the rim of her lower lip and touched the glistening fluid on her fingers. “Musky. Mild. A little tangy.”
My abdominals clenched, and my cock kicked as she slid two fingers into her mouth. She sucked as she pulled them from her lips.
“I thought I’d taste like you, salty and earthy.”
I stroked my length. “Fuck your pussy. Two fingers, hard and deep.”
Her hand disappeared below the camera.
“Show me.”
For a moment, her teeth sank into her lower lip, then she flipped the screen, butterflied her thighs, and crammed two fingers into her passage.
“I want to come,” she said a bit breathless. “I want to watch you, too.”
Reversing the screen, I showed her my cock. Fluids saturated the tip. I spit in my hand again and stroked the length.
“Oh my god.” Her fingers danced over her clit and slipped back into her soaked hole.
“Let me see your face.”
I flipped the camera at the same time she did.
“Marco.” Her back bowed, her mouth parted on a low, guttural moan, and she climaxed.
“Fuck.” Hearing my name on her lips as she came jolted heat into my chest, searing out, racing through my veins. My grip tightened on my cock, and muscles flexed in my abdominals with the final strokes. With a feral growl, I erupted. Hot ropes of cum jetted from my dick, splashing my stomach.
I fisted my shaft hard, merging pain and pleasure. As I released the pressure, another hard pulse ripped along the length. I jackknifed on the bed, tension tightening my muscles.
For a moment, we were silent as our breathing slowed.
I wiped my cum from my stomach with my discarded shirt. Only our breaths filled the room. Intimate. Personal. Just us. Just her. My wife.
“You asked me what it felt like to pull the trigger.”
On the small screen, I watched her climb beneath her comforter, prop her phone on the pillow next to her, and stare at me as if I was in bed next to her.
“I know how it feels to pull the trigger on a gun,” she said. “I asked you how killing a man made you feel.”
I remembered the moment of anticipation, the flash of fear, the recoil, and finally the rush of adrenaline. “Until I was inside you, nothing has felt as good as killing my enemy.”
Another long pause stretched between us. Had I shocked her? How would she feel knowing she’d have a monster in her bed? I lifted the glass of brandy and took a hearty swallow.
