Page 58 of Deadly Affair

“Fuck, you’re too goddamn sweet,” he growls, watching my pussy as his fingers stroke down to my hole. He circles it, round and round. The touch drives me crazy until I’m about to yell at him, but he steals the words by slamming one finger inside me. Not slowly, no, he forces me to take it.

I fall back and lift my hips to take it deeper, and he quickly adds another, stretching me for him as his mouth attacks me again. He licks and sucks my clit in that circular manner that has me fucking myself on his fingers and mouth.

“Oh God, so good, don’t stop!” I call out, rolling my hips, the pleasure nearly making me choke.

Sweat breaks out across my skin as I grind myself against his mouth. He adds another finger, the three digits stretching me so deliciously that when he crooks them along my walls, dragging against a spot inside of me I didn’t know existed, my release explodes through me.

I can’t even scream, locked in a cycle of pleasure that starts where his mouth is. I writhe beneath him, my pussy clamping around his fingers, and he still doesn’t stop. He thrusts slowly, fighting my clenching channel as his tongue licks me through it and straight into another—something I didn’t know was possible. When it’s over, I slump into the bed, trying to push him away from my oversensitive pussy, but he doesn’t relent. He presses a soft kiss against my clit and slowly pulls his fingers out. Meeting my eyes, he sucks and licks them clean before getting to his knees above me. His chin drips with my release, and when he leans down to kiss me, I lift my head to meet him.

I taste my sweetness on his tongue, my body slack and mind hazy with pleasure.

But he’s just getting started.

He slides from the bed and watches me as he strips, exposing hard muscle after hard muscle, some covered in intricate artwork. The tattoos cause me to stare longer. There’s a gun on his rib cage, pointing upwards, a cross on his right pec, wings on each shoulder, and his whole thigh is covered in a complex piece. I gulp, trying to look everywhere at once, from his impressive eight-pack leading to a delicious deep V pointing straight at—oh fuck—his cock.

It’s massive. I can’t stop staring, watching as it bobs. Precum beads at the tip, and the veins bulge. He’s hardly got any hair there, as if he shaves, and I think that only makes it that much more impressive. There’s no way that will fit inside me. I’m still staring when he climbs back up on the bed, settling between my thighs and stealing my view of his monstrous dick.

He grasps both of my wrists and pushes them to the bed above me. He holds them there with one hand as his lips descend on mine again. It makes all thoughts except for ones of him disappear once more as my arousal returns with a vengeance.

I wrap my left leg around his hip as I rock into him, trying to urge him on, but he ignores me. I didn’t know it could feel like this. Didn’t know I wanted this so much. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t get him inside me. My pussy glistens with his saliva and my own cream, aching to be filled, and my clit throbs in time with my hammering heart. My cheeks are red with embarrassment, even though he told me not to be, but I’m a little ashamed by how badly I want him, how fucking wet I was before he even touched me, and now? I’m actually dripping, begging to feel that massive length I glimpsed inside of me, and he’s still taking his time, kissing me like he has all the time in the world.

I impatiently grind into him, feeling his hard length rub along my pussy. When it catches my clit, my breath hitches. He pulls back with a groan and presses his forehead to mine, my lips raw from his dominant, sure kisses.

“You are enough to test a man’s control, my love,” he murmurs against my skin.

“Who said I wanted your control?” I whisper. “I want the man who ripped me down from the stage because he couldn’t stand it. I want the man who couldn’t wait to tear off my wedding dress. I want my husband,” I purr, knowing it will drive him wild.

I saw him earlier when I first said it, those blue eyes darkening, and I felt it in the way he threw me down. I don’t know where the boldness comes from, but in my desire, my hunger for my new husband, I find myself uncaring. He likes my fight, likes my fire, and he’ll get all of it.

All of me.

And I’ll get all of him.

Preferably now. I want to know how good sex with him can be. I want him to show me over and over again what I’ve missed out on all these years with nothing but my imagination and fingers. I want to be painted in his need. I don’t want the worry for Zoey, the ghosts of my past, and the terror that’s always with me anymore. I want to be consumed by him until all that exists is pleasure.

“Layla,” he groans, his body vibrating above me. That one simple word, my name, is a threat and a promise.

“Please,” I whisper, lifting my head to chase his lips, kissing and nipping at the puffy flesh. I taste my own release there again, and I know it’s wrong, but it’s so addictive. “I need you. I need you inside me. It hurts.”

That does the trick. He snarls, grips my hands, and slams them back to the pillow above me.

“We can’t have that, can we, wife?” he growls as he kisses me once more. “Don’t move your hands. If you do, l stop. Understand?”

I nod desperately, and he slowly uncurls his fingers from around my wrists. When I don’t move, he sits back, looking down at my naked, vulnerable body spread out for him like a feast.

“You are so goddamn beautiful, and all mine,” he mutters more to himself than to me, dragging his hands up my legs again. He parts my thighs as he lowers, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he reaches between us and grasps his cock.

“What about a condom?” I suddenly remember.

“I’m clean, I’ve been tested, and we’ll get you birth control,” he answers patiently, kissing me. “But I want to feel my wife raw around my cock.”

I want that too, so I don’t protest as I feel the tip of that huge cock press against my entrance. I stiffen though, but he leans down and kisses me until I relax, and then slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes into me. The stretch of my dripping channel has me groaning.

He’s big, so fucking big.

He has to fight my body to get inside of me, and by the time he’s buried to the hilt, we are both panting. He waits, just breathing, as he allows me to adjust.

“Okay?” he asks, cupping my cheek.

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