Page 20 of Four Calling Birds

So now I’d take what I could get, and she felt bad enough that she would willingly accept my terms and conditions.

Did that make me a bastard? Yes. Of the absolute worst kind. But if this was going to be the last time, then I wanted more. I needed more. I had to devour like a glutton. Like a last meal before my execution, because now that she was in my hands again, there was no way I couldlivewithout her. Never.

“Mack, what are you…” her phrases were cutting off. Like the words were slipping her mind. “You’ve never…”

That’s right. I had never. I would never again. Because nothing would ever surpass this.

The pendant steamed against her bare, heated skin. Her legs spread open for my inspection. Her taste was still on my tongue, and like an addict, I needed more. I had to have her.

“Stay still,” I reminded her, leaning down between her things, taking in the scent of her musk.

Her eyes were hazy as she nodded. Then let out a scared little whimper. I’d be sweeter this time. Ineededher to be a good girl. I needed her to do what she was told, because the reward would satisfy us both. But first, I had to ruin her for all men. I needed to break her the same way I was broken.

I kissed the sweet petals of her pussy, nipping at them. She sucked in a breath but didn’t flinch. Her heavy, steady breaths told me that she was trying to be unaffected. Trying to breathe through the lust, and sensations.

“Good girl.” I whispered against the skin of her inner thigh. I watched the skin raise in goosebumps. She let out a soft sigh, her eyes lightly closing. I chuckled. “Does my wife have a praise kink that I didn’t know about?”

She blinked, as if she was trying to wipe the fog from her eyes. She was trying to understand the question, then formulate the correct response.

“If you didn’t know it, then I didn't know it either.” She almost sounded pained. “Please, William…”

I raised my head and looked at her. The sound of my first name on her lips made my cock bob in anticipation. What a gorgeous sound. I don’t think she had called me that since our wedding, when we took our vows. I had always been Mack, or babe, or sweetheart… I shut my eyes, to better taste the sound in my mind.

“Say that again.” I ordered.

“What?”

“Say my name again.” I said each word slowly, enunciating every single thing to accommodate her, and my, addled mind.

“William?” Even as a question, it was hot.

I delved into her pussy, licking her with a new fervor that I didn’t know I had. Her mouth opened, her breaths became ragged and uneven, and a high-pitched whine left her lips. But she didn’t move. Her thighs quivered as her orgasm built up in her body, but she resisted the urge to buck against my mouth, to steal the friction I didn’t want to give her. Not yet. Not until I was buried to the hilt inside her.

“William!” Her cry was one of utter, unbridled desperation.

In our marriage, she had screamed many times in ecstasy. Screamed, moaned, whimpered, and once even laughed as her body gave in to carnal pleasures. But this was different. She had never had to beg me. I had delivered before she even knew what she needed. But she wouldn’t take me for granted now.

“William! William!” She let out a scream as she crested the wave, her body surrendering to my lips, her juices spilling down my chin.

The sick level of pride I felt when she hadn’t moved, the pendant still on her skin between her breasts, was… something I didn’t know I needed. My sweet, obedient, lovely wife had fought her instincts, and pleased me.

I pulled off the pendant from her skin, bringing the little blue flower to my lips. I kissed it. With shaking, desperate hands, I unclasped it, then put it around her neck, fastening it again. I pulled the pendant down, so it rested against her skin. I stroked it gently as it stuck to the sweat of her skin.

“Don’t take it off again,” I whispered. “You can take off my ring.” I grabbed her hand, which had no band, but still had the tell-tale dent on that precious finger. It still had a slight tan line, if I looked hard enough. “But don’t forget me.”

I touched the pendant. I finally looked up at her face, where a small tear slid down the side of her face, to her temple, into her luscious black hair.

“I’ve never forgotten you,” she whispered, shaking her head. She was shaking. But she stayed still, her legs open to me. “I think about you every second of every day. And I will until I die.”

I bent over and kissed her tear, feeling the salt mix with the evidence of her pleasure. The taste of it can only be described as bittersweet.

“Why are you crying, Lotte?”

“So many reasons…”

Were it any other time, she would turn away from me. She’d wrap her arms around herself, and block me out. That’s what she used to do after a fight. Going to bed angry was her thing. Then, when it got cold, she’d fold herself against my skin to steal my warmth, and we’d be right as rain in the morning. Those desperate hours where I waited for her to need me used to be torture.But I was a good a man, back then. I knew that she needed space.

But I couldn’t let her do that now.

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