Page 41 of Darling Nikki

“Fuck, that’s the operative word. That’s why I’m here, darling, to fuck my little wife. To bow your ass up and make you take this dick until you learn how to watch that smart mouth of yours.” He starts shedding his clothes like it’s a done deal.

“Umm, I think not.” Shaking my head, I turn back to my iPad, purposely ignoring his ass. His eyes flashing, he stands, having stepped out of his pants and boxers. His dick is full, hard, reaching past his navel, drifting to the left. It’s so fucking pretty. My mouth waters as I think of the last time we had sex. It was the night of the gala. From then on it seemed like he made a point of not touching me unless it was for show, for the public.

He’s punishing me for what Krie advised me to do, which I still haven’t confessed to. Why would I? Leaving him never crossed my mind. I’m sure newlyweds get all types of advice. With my family, leaving a husband or laying his sorry ass down also comes with the territory. Matriarchal as the Loves are, we don’t hold with putting up with any mess from our men. They either fall in line or fall off. Period. More than one sorry, no-good-ass man has met an untimely demise. Mathias is lucky she didn’t give me the other suggestion.

I can’t believe Natalie spied on me. That’s when I stopped dealing with her. For all her talk about the bigger picture, her actions say she’s a bitter Betty about the whole thing. The fact Mathias can’t or refuses to see it makes me mad as hell. Just one more thing to add to my growing list of his crimes.

“You’re telling me no?” The question comes out low and deadly.

“Yes.” I toss back the rest of my champagne, tucking my knees under the long silk night gown I found in the enormous closet sent by Summer.

She doubles as my stylist. I like her choices of materials for my public outfits. I immediately hired her over the people Natalie tried to push on me. I knew their taste would have me looking like a short Mrs. Doubtfire. Umm, no thanks. Summer has me looking like I’m in my twenties, the posh wife of a billionaire, not a bumpkin.

“Ah.” He puts down the champagne bottle with a snap. He lowers his body until he’s kneeling before me where I’m curled in the corner of the sofa. “Oh, yeah?” He stares at me.

“Yeah.” I manage to keep my voice strong even though my body is already betraying me.

He grabs my right ankle, slowly drawing me forward. I could kick him, I probably should but I don’t. Grabbing my other ankle, he pulls my legs apart, spreading them widely. Looking down at his obvious effect on me, his eyes darken to slate gray.

“Yeah?” His voice is guttural, rough with need.

“Yeah,” I whisper, meaning something entirely different this time. “Mathias.” The word comes out on a whimper when his hot mouth covers my mound. My pussy pulses as he sucks me so greedily. After laving me, he pulls back to look at his handiwork.

“So fucking pretty. I love having this fat motherfucker in my mouth,” he confesses, pushing my thighs up, until he’s pretzling me.

“Ah.” My gasp becomes a cry when he licks me from front to back, then back to front. Over and over again he does it until he buries his face in my ass.

“Ohmygoodness.” Wetness gushes out my pussy when he tongues my bottom hole. My muscles clench so hard it’s almost like a cramp.

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, pressing two fingers inside, working me, plowing in and out of my pussy. Arching into him, I meet every thrust of his as he finger fucks me.

“So good, so good.” I pant, riding his fingers. He spears his tongue in and out of my bottom, brushing my clit with his other hand.

“Thi—” Screaming, I come hard, feeling pressure releasing from me as I wet his face and the sofa with my essence.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so beautiful when you come for me.” Wiping down his face where I drenched him, he rubs it in like he can’t get enough of it.

“Turn for me, darling,” he whispers, his voice a seductive force all on its own.

Turning, I curl over the plush pillows, arching my body up to his. I feel a dip as he places a knee on the sofa.

“Still so tight.” He pushes the thick head of his dick into me. “So fucking tight. I should be fucking you more, wife.” He works the head inside. “Relax your back more for me, that’s it. Open my pussy up for me. I know she misses me.” Slowly, he fucks into me. Inch by delicious inch, I take him until he’s bottoming out.

“I can’t take it.” I sob. I’m so full, stretched to the max, almost to the point of pain. I thought it would get easier after he took my virginity.

“Yes, you can.” His words are hard. Palming the globes of my ass, he massages them before spreading them wide. “If you see how pretty this motherfucker is stretched on my dick, you’ll come hard like you did moments ago.”

His assurance does nothing to alleviate my fear.

“Grab this cheek.”

When I do as he says, replacing his hand, he reaches around and begins to rub my clit. My muscles squeeze at the pleasure. Pressing against the fullness, I begin fucking myself on his hardness, the pain and pleasure becoming an amalgamation of bliss. I’m helpless to do anything other than respond to his touch worrying my hard little nub, his hardness filling me.

“That’s right, get your dick, darling,” he urges me, driving long and hard inside me. Every inch of me is open to him.

“So fucking pretty, taking me like a good little wife,” he praises, fucking me so hard, my teeth rattle. “Down,” he commands.

I cry out when he moves his fingers, instantly wanting him back playing with my pussy.

---