Page 91 of Desperate Actions

His hands roam freely, one sliding up to cup my breast, the other moving lower, so much lower.

“Here?” he asks, giving my tits a firm squeeze.

“Here?” he murmurs, his fingers move, sliding through my slick folds, parting me so gently, so teasingly, so fucking perfectly.

I nod furiously, because yes.

Yes, yes, yes.

Everywhere.

I need him everywhere.

“Want me to suck on these big tits? Or fill this sweet cunt? Tell me.”

Oh God.

Yes.

All of it.

But words fail me.

Because I am too far gone, too lost in the way he touches me, teases me, breaks me down piece by piece.

He bites my neck, then licks the abused flesh, and I moan like a wanton mess, completely at his mercy.

“Does my greedy girl need me?”

I nod, mindless, shameless, already wrecked before he’s even inside me.

He chuckles darkly, dragging the thick head of his cock through my folds, coating himself in my arousal, teasing my entrance but not pushing in.

“Are you wet for me? Are you ready to take my cock?”

He presses harder, just barely notching himself inside, and I hiss at the overwhelming need.

“Tell me.”

“Yes. Please. I’m wet. I’m so fucking wet, Sammy.”

“I’m gonna check.”

He slides between my thighs, rubbing himself against me, coating himself in how desperate I am for him.

It feels so good. Better than anything I ever imagined.

“Yeah, you’re ready. Fuck.”

His voice is all growls, all dominance and restraint, and I whimper, because yeah—he’s right.

I am soaking for him.

Desperate for him.

“I got you, Wife. I’m gonna fuck you so good. Fill you until you’re spilling my cum and screaming my name.”

Then, he grips the back of my neck, pressing down until my cheek meets the cool bedspread.

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