Page 185 of Pucking Strong

My husband looks just as surprised. Slowly, he shakes his head. “Teddy, I—”

“Oh fuck, baby, do it again.”

His eyes flash, his split second of panic replaced once more with need. Groaning low in his throat, he slaps my ass again. Hard. It stings like a motherfucker, even as it makes my cock twitch and drip. I can’t help but grab it, giving it a stroke. God, it’s still wet from his mouth.

“Don’t come until I say,” he commands. “I’m not nearly done with you.”

Whimpering, I rock into Henrik’s touch as he massages my ass cheeks, giving each a firm caress. “Baby, please, I want you inside me. Fuck me. Want your cock—ah—” I choke back a laugh as he slaps me again, this time on the other cheek.

Folding himself over me, he wraps a hand around my throat, pulling me up until my back is flush with his chest. “You’ll take what I give you,” he growls in my ear, nipping the lobe until I hiss. “I’ll fill your ass with my cum when I’m good and ready, and not a moment before. Rush me, and we’ll end the night here.”

I flex my hands on the hood of his car. “Flash was wrong earlier. You’re not the ‘daddy’ type. But clearly, spanking is on the table. Which, thank fucking god.”

He raises a brow. “You really like it?”

“Getting spanked? Fuck yes. Baby, it’s so hot. I like getting choked too, but we can work our way up to that. When you really feel like having some fun, you can chase me.” At the flash in his eyes, I crow inside. “Oh yeah, look at you. I bet you’re dripping atthat, aren’t you?” Being the brat I am, I rock back with my hips, pressing my bare ass against his crotch. “Imagine getting to chase me, pin me down, and fuck my brains out like we’re two wild animals—”

Growling, he slams forward with his hips, rubbing his hard cock against my ass cheek as he pushes down on my shoulders. “Stop trying to distract me. You don’t want me to fuck you on the hood this car?”

“I do,” I cry, turning back to face the windshield. “Fuck, baby, I do. God, anything. I’m yours.” I’m a mumbling mess as he finally undoes his belt. He’s still in his game-day suit, just without the jacket and tie, shirtsleeves rolled up.

“Do I need to stretch you out first?”

I would answer him, but he’s got his hard dick in his hand, tapping it against my ass cheek, so my brain is putting all its effort into standing right now.

“I have lube,” he goes on.

I blink, glancing over my shoulder. “Wait, seriously?”

He fishes a little packet of lube from his pocket, holding it up.

I smile, feeling all warm and floaty. “Well, aren’t you Mr. Prepared? Eagerly anticipating a beachside fuck, are we?”

He just shrugs. “The guys put a hundred pack of these in my locker as a joke shortly after our wedding.”

“Look who’s laughing now.” My mirth settles as I sense the barest hint of his unease. He’s still pretty new at this. “You won’t hurt me,” I assure him. “I trust you. Make me feel so good, like only you can.”

Turning around, I’m content to watch our shadowy reflections in the windshield. I hear the softcrickas Henrik opens the lube packet, then I’m gasping at the feel of his slick fingers pressing in at my asshole. Huffing out a breath, I let myself sink into a cozy little sub space. Henrik is in control now. He’ll take such good care of me.

He presses in with two fingers, stretching me open. “You’re so tight, mitt hjärta.”

The burn of that first stretch has my dick twitching. I moan,rocking back against his hand. “You’ll fit. Please, baby, give me your cock. God, I need it.”

His fingers slip out as he mutters a soft curse in Swedish. Then he’s fisting his thick shaft, letting it glide slick and heavy between my cheeks. We both groan as his tip breaches my tight outer ring of muscle.

“Slow,” I say on a breath.

He holds my hips tight enough to bruise as he rocks against me, stretching me with each thrust. Every inch of him I take has me feeling more anxious and breathless. I need to come. That’s what this is. The anticipation is killing me. I need him to unleash himself on me—use me, fill me, tear me apart.

“I can’t,” he pants.

I hold still, trying to search his face in our reflection. “What is it? Talk to me.”

“Can’t bear it,” he grits out. “Need to come.”

I smile, triumphant. “Baby, look at me.”

He grunts, looking down at where we’re joined. “God, help me.”

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