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Has me squeezing tighter as I sloppily spin my tongue around to the siren sounds of my wife’s panting.

Justice League hear me now…I would sacrifice earth in its entirety to hear her make this noise for all of eternity.

Scraping my teeth away from her tits, down her toned torso, towards the top of her lacey bottoms is accompanied by my palms gluttonously groping and grasping and grating every inch of skin possible.

I love every curve that she’s acquired from having our children.

Every mark that illustrates the changes she’s endured.

Every tattoo that’s found a permanent home on her beautiful brown skin.

The shark.

The Bat signal.

The three shark fins swimming across her feet.

There isn’t a single centimeter of my woman’s body that I don’t know.

Or adore.

Or love.

Once each set of my fingers hook onto the string of her panties, they follow it around back to where it’s being held together by a single, tied bow.

One hard tug is all it takes to have the cloth cascading downward into the small space between her thighs; however, instead of letting my tongue dart forward – like its anxious to do – I snatch up the underwear.

Rise back to my feet.

Devilishly smirk and whirl my finger around. “Turn.”

Her lack of reluctance to do what she’s told simply makes my dick swell more.

“Hands.”

Bryn folds them behind her back at the same time she curiously glances over her shoulder.

It’s not unheard of for us to engage in a bit of bondage every now and again.

It’s just that every now and again tends to be when the kidsaren’thome or when we’ve snuck away for a night alone at the penthouse, which is where the vast majority of our more adventurous sex accessories call home.

Watching me tie her wrists together has my wife whimpering and wiggling and whimpering again when the fabric is snuggly secure.

I gently rotate her frame towards the bed.

Roughly push her over.

Take a moment to admire her beautiful, round, bare ass while working my shaft out of my sweats.

I think the only thing I love more than having it on my face is having it bounce on my dick.

And I think if I were to ask Bryn, she’d express something similar.

With my black, designer boxer-briefs and pants kicked off to the side, I wickedly lean down, over her shoulder, and whisper, “Remember to scream into the mattress, Little Prey.” Grinning against the shell of her is done in tandem with nudging her legs apart. “Wouldn’t want the kids to hear why it’s a good thing to be on the naughty list.”

There isn’t time for her to speak or think or even fucking blink before I’m slamming my cock to the brink. Her entire body instantly arches underneath me from the impact, wildly shaking, sopping wet muscles savagely swelling as they clash between approval and disapproval.

Oscillate between acceptance and exile.

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