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I grip her wrists and push her body down over the arm of the couch, forcing her ass up in the air. Holding her wrists pinned at the small of her back, I reach down with my other hand to spread her pussy lips….
Her back shivers beneath my arm, tight and thrumming. She can barely breathe with the tension, with the awful and intense sensation of exposure as I examine her…
I spread open her outer lips, revealing the dusky pink inner folds. Her little cunt trembles at my touch, soft as plush, slippery as oil. I rub my finger around her opening with light, even pressure, watching her wetness seep like dew, gathering it on my fingers so I can lift them to my lips...
“Mm…” I let her flavor dissolve on my tongue.
I touch her again, slowly, fingers sliding around and around. She’s even wetter than before. I bring it to her mouth.
“Taste that.”
Obediently, she parts her lips and sucks.
I want that mouth around my cock.
When I touch her again, my fingers plunge in. She’s fucking soaking…
I bring my fingers back to my tongue, and I’m drunk on her.
The world was an old gray TV screen, and when it smashed apart, I found a buffet behind, in gorgeous shades of crimson and claret…
That’s her body, like cherries, like pomegranates, like wine, like meat bloody red…that’s the taste, the smell, and the feel of her, in my mouth and against my skin…
I could devour her, and I do, nuzzling my face into her wet little cunt from behind.
Her hips wiggle and she squeals. When I pull away, her back arches and her thighs part, as if she already misses me, as if she’s begging me to come back…
I kneel with my face close to her gorgeous pussy and ass. Up close I can see how sensitive she is, how delicate. I watch her shiver in that softest part.
And when I touch her there, I see her melt. I watch it and I feel it under my fingertips, that feeling that begins under my hand and spreads out, taking hold of her body in shivering waves until she’s completely under my control…
For a moment, at least.
Until she wanders off and gets herself in trouble.
I give her a sharp upward slap on the ass, making her ass cheek bounce like I did to her tits. Remi yelps.
I slap her again, then again, at a steady cadence so she knows what to expect. I do it on the right and then the left—firm, upward slaps, until both her ass cheeks glow as rosy as her tits.
Now we’re ready to get started.
I reassert the downward pressure over the arm of the couch, pressing into her back, letting my body rest on top of hers, letting her feel my weight, my warmth.
Lips against her ear, I murmur, “Remi…I can’t have you letting other men kiss you, even for a minute, even if I stormed off in a rage.”
She goes still beneath me and turns her head slightly because we’re talking with honesty now.
“Why did you storm off?”
Images flash in my head, the looks, the whispers, Emma’s hands on Remi’s shoulders, her lips against her ear, those witchy green eyes locked on me.
“Don’t play stupid. You know.”
Remi lets out a breath like a sigh. Her voice is low and soft when she asks, “What do you want me to do? A lot of people are telling me you killed your wife.”
“Do you think I did?”
The question is out before I can wonder if I want it answered.
