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I have obsessed about her, I was even obsessed with her before I struck a deal with her father. I didn’t do it for my son. I did it for her.
Lifting the cigar to my lips, I take a deep puff and let my mind drift. There was no way I was going to leave her alone. She is mine. My thick cock aches underneath my jogging bottoms and I know I need to do something about it. Fuck, I want her plump, full lips locked around me, but not yet. When the time is right, I’ll push her to her fucking knees and have her pleasure me.
Groaning, my cock twitches.
Stubbing my cigar into my ashtray, I stand and stalk back into the house. I need to sort myself out. Sooner rather than later because all I can think about is walking into her bedroom and fucking her virgin pussy while my poor excuse of a son lays next to her.
I make my way upstairs, and instead of going to my room I walk towards hers. I push the door slightly, my eyes seeking her out straight away. She lays on her side, one of her knees up round her chest, the other led straight underneath her. My son faces the wall, away from her. He is under the covers, she is out.
My cock twinges and I can’t bear the ache anymore. I push the waistband of my jogging bottoms down and let them rest on my thighs. Relief swarms me in an instant as my thick, long, fat dick rests against my stomach. Wrapping my fingers round myself, I begin to slide them up and down my length, my spare hand resting on the doorframe as I steady myself. All the time my eyes are on her, and my mind is on what I would be doing if I was laying next to her. I wouldn’t be facing the wall.
I would be letting my lips trace across her skin, my fingers plunging into her soaked pussy before I lock my mouth round her full, round tits and when she is getting wriggly, I would pin her down by her waist, my spare hand wrapping round both of her wrists so she couldn’t move and that’s when I would rock my cock into her, slipping in and out of her with harsh, rough thrusts. I wouldn’t stop until she was a trembling mess beneath me.
“Fuck,” I grit, my head rolling back as I feel my orgasm erupt deep within me. Pulling my trousers up with force, I cum inside them and control my breathing.
I don’t want to wake them.
After a moment, I step back and head towards my bedroom.
I needed a shower and it seems I needed to wank again because my cock was still rock solid.
* * *
I wake in the morning feeling well rested. Maybe it was the four wanks I had last night and it seems my cock still requires my attention but I don’t think my hand is enough. I need a pussy or a hot little mouth to sink it into. But not any mouth or pussy. I want Belle’s.
Once dressed, I head downstairs and walk straight into the open planned kitchen and my eyes land on her arse. She’s leaning over the cool worktop in her red, satin pyjamas.
“Morning,” my voice is gruff and low as I step into the room and stop just behind her at the fridge. Flashbacks of my late-night pussy eating blaze through me and I smirk and I know she is thinking it to with the way she presses her thick thighs together, her cheeks flushing.
“Morning Klaus,” her sweet voice floats through the room.
“How did you sleep Belle?” I ask, closing the fridge and holding the milk.
“Very well, and you?” she spins, her fingernails tapping on the marble worktop in a steady beat.
“Amazing,” I hum as I flick the kettle on and ignore the want to look at her. My eyes float to where Stanley is sitting on that fucking phone. “Stanley,” my voice booms through the room, “why are you here?”
He snaps his head up, narrowing his eyes on me. “What?”
“Why are you here?” I ask again. His lips part ready to answer me but I don’t let him, “You have been glued to that phone since you walked through the door yesterday afternoon.”
He sighs and I see Belle resume her spot of leaning over the worktop.
Tease.
“I’m working, sorry I’m not retired like you,” his venom spills out of him and I add milk to my cup. I’m about to ask if they want coffee but see they both already have steaming mugs. Filling my cup with water, I stir my coffee and hit the spoon on the side of the cup.
“I’m sure you said you had finished working? Was that not what you said the night before we came here… you know?” Belle’s voice sings through the room and I see Stan swallow.
Closing the gap between me and her, I open the door and slip the milk back in but I settle beside her and lift my cup to my lips as I take a mouthful.
“I’m a politician Belle, I can’t just turn my phone off when my cabinet are under scrutiny and are fucking up left, right and centre!” he shouts at Belle and she shrinks.
“You need to watch your tone,” I bellow, and I don’t miss the rasp in my voice. Letting my free hand move beneath the worktop, my fingertips skim across the soft skin of her thighs and as if she can read my mind, she widens her legs.
I have to bite the inside of my mouth. Letting them trail up the inside of her legs, I reach her soaked pussy and sink two fingers inside of her with ease and I hear the intake of breath she sucks in.
“I am sick of it,” Stan throws his phone down beside him like a spoiled brat.
