Page 82 of When Hearts Surrender

But instead, I trail my hand down her luscious, towel-clad body and squeeze the firm globes of her ass. She arches up, clearly wanting me to touch her between her legs where her little wet pussy is waiting for me.

I can smell her arousal and it gives me the highest of highs.

“My little muse,” I rasp, “you may say you hate me, but your body tells me another story.”

I bite her earlobe and she flinches, but she lets out a lusty moan when I soothe the pain with a swirl of my tongue. Belle whimpers, her body still half-heartedly fighting me, but she spreads her legs some more, her hand reaching back, grabbing mine, and trying to move it between her legs.

With one hand, I pin her arm to her back, my other hand yanking up her towel in one smooth motion. Her slick pussy pulses and pre-cum drips from my cock.

“Fuck, look at this wet cunt, all for the man you hate, huh? I wonder how much wetter you’ll be for a man you love?” My mind is in a crimson haze as I imagine another man seeing her like this. Writhing, moaning, whimpering for him.

He’d get to kiss her, love her, do everything I couldn’t do.

And fuck if that doesn’t make me want to burn the world.

I quickly unbuckle my belt, pull down my zipper, and take out my throbbing cock, the tip dark red and dripping for her, needing to be inside her.

Unable to help myself, I rub the tip between her hot folds and hiss from the sharp pleasure.

She mewls when I circle her swollen clit with the tip. I’m not going to kiss her. I’m not going to take off my clothes or her towel and make this any more intimate than it already is.

Because I know that’ll unmoor me and my control is already so close to snapping.

She thrashes on the bed, clearly needing more. But it’s no use. I have her pinned underneath me, her ass up, legs spread, arms behind her. It’s a position that may be degrading to some, but my slutty wife likes it.

She likes it when I take control, and I want to be her master, fucking orgasm after orgasm out of her, so she’ll be addicted to me, to my cock, to the pleasure only I can give her.

Because that’s all I’m allowed to give her.

Nothing more. I need to protect her.

Groaning, I thrust into her to the hilt, her tight pussy clamping me in a vise and I nearly see stars. Unable to stop myself or slow down, I rut against her, the pleasure gathering rapidly in my groin.

The headboard slams against the wall in a loud, staccato rhythm. Moments later, the crystals from the lamp on the nightstand also shake, the clinking sound adding to the lewd symphony of hate sex.

“Maxwell, they’ll hear us, oh my God!” she cries as I speed up, angling my cock deeper, gyrating it on my way out so it caresses her G-spot with each glide. Sparks gather up my spine.

“Fuck them. I don’t care. Let them hear you scream for a man you hate.”

Pistoning harder inside her, I bear my weight on her body, smashing her face against the comforter, but I’m too far gone to care. Belle moans with each stroke, her back arching like she can’t get enough.

Fuck, she’s taking me so well.

“You’re a fucking good wife for me, aren’t you? Now you’re going to listen to your husband and do what I tell you to do.”

“Never!” she whimpers, but she melts against me.

My cock hardens to the point of bursting as I feel more wetness drip out of her. My little muse likes it when I boss her around.

The pleasurable burning between my legs intensifies, my balls swelling, cock pulsing, my body ready to detonate.

“You like this, little muse? Me fucking your pussy because I own it like I own you?”

“Never!” she screams again, and I wrap her hair around my hand and pull, watching her eyes roll back.

The pleasure climbs to a tipping point, traveling from my heavy balls to my cock—the point between heaven or hell. Her body starts spasming underneath me.

“Come, Belle. Take every ounce of cum inside that tight pussy. Scream and show the world what a slut you are for me. This is what you want, right? My cum deep inside you, flooding your womb.”

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