Page 82 of The Fake Husband Play
Higher, and my breath locks in my chest.
Higher, until my dick is testing my fly, and my jaw is clenched so tight it hurts. But not nearly as bad as it hurts to see her pussy still covered by a pair of black panties.
That pussy needs to be set free. Right fucking now.
“Maybe a little prettier?” she whispers, finishing the job of destroying me.
My knees hit the floor like a lost man finding God in the desert as my palms drag up the sides of her thighs.
I kiss her again, deep and wild and sweet, confessing all of my sins against her lips before I murmur, “Lift your hips,chère.”
She does, her breath rushing out as I jerk her panties down her thighs so fast the motion scoots her forward on the bench.
Which is perfect.
Exactly where I want her…
Hooking my hands behind her knees, I pull back, watching the desire flicker on her face as I open her legs. “You’re right. I can think of one thing that would make you a tiny bit prettier… Any ideas what that might be?”
She bites her bottom lip as her eyes flash with that hunger that drives me wild. “I have a few.”
“Yeah?” I curl my fingers deeper into her soft thighs. “A few? Well, I hope one of them involvesque je te bouffe cette petite chatte toute trempée jusqu’à ce que tu cries mon nom et me noies avec ton jus—because I can’t wait to taste you.”
Her breath rushes out as I kneel back on my heels. “Caught just enough of that to know that it was so,sodirty.” She swallows hard, a tremor in her voice as she adds, “And I want it so much.”
And I intend to give this woman everything she wants…
Hooking her legs over my shoulders, I lean in, inhaling the salty scent of sex and Elly as I spread her lips with my fingers, revealing every slick crevice of her gorgeous cunt.
Fuck, my girl…
I take a beat to burn the sight of her into my memory.
My wife objectively has the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen—all delicate pink, with a proud little clit that rises out of its hood just for me—but it’s the way Elly responds to my touch that drives me out of my damned mind.
The way she gasps as I trace each swollen petal, her hips bucking forward as I go deeper, driving my stiff tongue into the core of her sweetness. The way she trembles, moaning my name as she gets closer to the edge. The way she grips my head, holding on tight as I drag her more fully on top of me, until her weight is bearing down on my mouth, my teeth, hopefully making the friction even more intense.
Because I wasn’t lying when I said I needed to eat her until she drowned me. I need her pleasure like I need air, and I’ve been dreaming about the taste of her come since she exploded on my tongue last night.
“Oh God, oh God, Grammercy. God!” Her voice breaks as she tightens her grip in my hair until it almost hurts.
I groan into her slick skin, welcoming the hint ofpain, urging her on, assuring her I’m here for every second of this.
Every fucking second.
My girl is riding my mouth like she owns it, now, shameless and wild as she sucks in sharp gasps through her teeth. The gasps become my name, then an almost pitiful cry for mercy. I wait until the rocking of her hips grows frantic, erratic, until she’s so damned close. Then, just as she cries my name again, I pump two fingers deep, curling them against her inner walls as I grind my mouth into her clit.
Her head falls back as she clings to my skull, pinning me to her throbbing sex as she drenches me.
And God, I love it. Love how she comes apart on my mouth, how her taste fills my head and drowns every thought but more. More of this. More of her. I stay right there, groaning into her, savoring every pulse of her release, every helpless twitch of her thighs.
This is fucking heaven—making her lose control, showing her with every stroke of my tongue that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
As her orgasm begins to abate, I pull my fingers from inside her, replacing them with my tongue, drinking her down like she’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.
Because she is.
Always will be.
