Page 20 of Tangled Souls

She might as well wave a flag in front of a bull.

With a growl, I step up to the edge of the bed. It’s the perfect height for the quick fuck that I already know won’t be enough to take the edge off this feeling burning inside of me. The fear.

One hand grips her hip while the other slides up the middle of her back. I grab a swath of her hair and wrap it around my fist. With a tug, I force her body to bow, loving the whimper of need that falls from her lips.

I can see how wet she is, her arousal shimmering in the low light in the room as it coats her needy pussy lips. She needs this just as much as I do.

My eyes slide closed, and I force myself to take a deep breath, needing to center myself and keep ahold of my control, at least a sliver of it. “Are you sure?” My question is a low rasp; one filled with restrained need.

“Give me your anger, Kirill,” her words are sharp.

They rip through the tenuous hold I have on my control.

And I’m lost.

I watch earnestly as the head of my cock kisses her entrance. The moment it does, I punch my hips forward and fill her. Hard.

And I let go.

I slam into her without care or thought. I’m not fucking her for pleasure. My movements are filled with desperate devotion and fueled by a rage I’ve never experienced before.

My eyes stay locked on the way her cunt opens up for me, stretching around my shaft as she coats me with her arousal. She’s so fucking wet for me, but every brutal thrust, every time I hit the back of her channel without care for whether I’m hurting her or not, she gets even wetter.

It feels like I’m floating. Above the clouds. Above the atmosphere. Above the stars.

I’m amongst the galaxies, so small and insignificant. I’m not what matters.

She is.

Our wife.

She’s all that matters.

“He could have hurt you,” I grit the words out. “He could have taken you from us.”

Fear starts to cloud my vision, turning it hazy. My heart pounds harder with every thrust, her body accepting me and trying to hold me in place with how tight her pussy is clamping down around my cock.

“Kirill,” she keens, “more.”

The grip I have on her hair tightens and I force her to arch her back and heed the way I’m directing her body. Molding her beauty with my hands makes time stand still and race through my soul at the same time.

I’m a panting mess as I fuck our wife harder and faster. The sound of our skin slapping together is obscene and on the edge of barbaric. I’ve never heard anything sexier in my life.

“Yes,” the word starts as a whisper, but it builds as she repeats it. A mantra, the plea stringing together with an underscore of pain.

“I’m never letting you go, Oaklynn,” I grunt. “If you’re put in danger again, I’m punishing you.”

I know, underneath it all, that I’m being ridiculous.

I just don’t give a fuck.

“I’ll leave my handprint on your ass and the memory of my fingers around you throat if you’re ever in another situation like you were tonight.”

Oaklynn pushes back against me, meeting every one of my thrusts and spurring me on to give her more. Chasing her own pleasure while pushing mine.

Fear crawls up my back before wrapping itself around me completely. I can’t deny what tonight made me feel. There’s no way I can experience that helplessness again.

Never fucking again.

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