Page 18 of The Hand that Frays

She lifts a leg, opening herself to me as I anglecorrectly, gaining headway as my cock fights its way inside her tight asshole.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

“Neo.” She covers my hand with hers, moving my fingers over her clit rougher than I’d been doing.

“Good fucking girl,” I praise, already feeling the itch of a second orgasm coming on behind the one I just had.

“More,” she breathes, her voice ragged from her coughing fit. “Please, more.”

I find her entrance with my fingers, using my leftover cum as a lubricant. At least, what’s not already dripped into her ass and around my cock that’s thrusting shallowly into her ass.

I shove two fingers inside her. “Rub your clit. I won’t last. I never do with you.”

I always want her to come first, and usually, she does. The way she feels tonight, however, has me fighting, spilling in her ass like a teenager fucking his first hole.

With my other hand, I snake under her head and wrap it around her throat.

She just danced so close to death most wouldn’t want to risk it.

Not me, however.

I want her constantly on the edge of life when I fuck her. I want her to know who holds the power.

As I skim my lips over her ear, only the tip of my dick fucks into her ass, and she arches her back to accommodate more of me inside of her.

“I want you to come all over my fingers so I can fill your ass full, stupid girl. Even though you disobeyed me earlier, I want you to go to bed with this pussy so fucking raw that you can’t sleep through its throbbing,” I taunt, nipping the edge of her ear.

She moans, her walls fluttering around my fingers at my words.

“Yes, there you go. Be my good fucking girl and come all over my fingers. Your ass feels too good, wife…”

She erupts like a volcano around my fingers, taking me with her as I shove forward and let my cock empty in her ass.

When I pull out, I lift her ass cheek.

“Push it out. I want to see my cum leak out of your ass.”

Madness is unfurled inside me when she listens. She opens her ass and lets my cum seep out of her.

It runs over her other cheek and slides to the floor, making a little puddle.

I grind forward with my hips, running the head of me through the mess.

Swiping my fingers through some of my cum, I rub it over her brand.

The unhinged way I behave used to worry me. Not with her, however.

Because as I work my cum into my name on her ass, she’s moaning and arching into my touch.

While I might be a fucked-up man, I never have to worry about anything I do when I’m with her.

It’s why I can’t ever be without her.

Even if she still might worry that I want to kill her.

Fear is a wonderful motivator, though.

Let her worry.

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