Page 91 of Filthy Little Regrets

My dick strains for her, liking the way she saysfuckand wondering how good her lips might feel around my length. Humming, I stroke her neck. “You’re right, we should change it up.” I spin her around, hoist her over my shoulder, and carry her toward the living room.

“Hey!” she shouts, swatting my back. “Put me down.”

Ignoring her, I cut to the couch and slowly sit down, moving her to straddle my hips as I sit back, keeping my hands on her hips.

Her chest heaving, she narrows her eyes, but she doesn’t try to get up or run away.

Leaning forward, I ghost my lips over hers, gripping her shirt and dragging it up her body. She lifts her arms without protest and I smirk. My wife might pretend like she doesn’t want me, but she surrenders to me faster than she ever has, unclasping her bra and tossing it aside.

Tipping her back, I suck her nipple, swirling my tongue around the peak. Her fingers dive into my hair and she sighs. I bite her soft skin, gazing up at her as she gasps, and her eyes fall to meet mine.Did she forget this is a punishment?Pulling off her tit with a pop, I help her stand and wrench her shorts and thong down, baring the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.

I quickly rip my shirt off, shove my pants and boxers down, freeing my cock, and tug her back on top of me. Her thighs part and she settles on top of me, slick and ready for me to fill her.

Gripping her ass, I slide her over my length. “You’re so wet for me,” I rasp, fighting the urge to be inside of her.

“I thought we were fucking, not talking,” she mutters.

Smirking, I move my thumb to her clit and smooth over the nerves. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Obviously,” she growls.

I press down on her clit, rubbing fast, tight circles, watching her fight to keep her composure and to hold on to her anger. But those lush lips part and she softens, palms landing on my shoulders. “You left without telling me,” I murmur, dipping one finger inside of her and thrusting in time with my thumb.

“I didn’t realize I had to ask for permission to live my life,” she snaps.

She has me all wrong. It’s not about permission; it’s about making sure she’s safe. There are too many people who would happily hurt or exploit her just to hurt me. Pausing my movements, I search her face. “How do I protect you if you don’t tell me where you’re going?”

She frowns at me. “I can take care of myself.”

“You know what I mean.”

Blowing out a breath, she nods. “Yeah, I do.”

“Next time, you’ll tell me?”

“If I say no, will you still fuck me?”

I narrow my eyes.

She sighs. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but I don’t want you to think you can start bossing me around. Telling me when to breathe or eat or what to wear.”

Ignoring that ridiculous notion, I slip my finger out of her. “Turn around.”

She eyes me like she doesn’t quite trust me, but turns, resting her ass against my cock. Humming in approval, I spread her thighs over my legs and shift her body up, and my clever wife tucks her ankles beside my legs. I hold her up with one arm, position my dick with the other, andslowly ease her down, kneading her breasts and kissing her shoulder.

She shudders, thighs tightening as she stretches around me.

“Relax, Cassia, you can take it.”

Softening once more, she takes me all the way, fingers clutching my forearm around her middle, and I hold, letting her adjust to the position and my girth, pinching her nipple between two fingers.

Her hips jerk, walls gliding up my length. “Oh my god.”

“That’s it,” I tell her, thrusting up into her. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Humming in agreement, she starts to move her body in time with mine.

She rocks up and down, hissing when I thrust in deep, nails digging into my skin when I shift my grip to her hips and help her grind against me, letting my tip caress her G-spot until she shakes, her movements slowing until I have to take over. Gliding one hand up to her throat, I tip her head back, forcing her to meet my gaze, and slip the other one down between her legs.

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