Knowing I won’t be able to last long under such torture, I kiss my way down her body until my chest is between her bent calves. Her scent is thick and heady, driving me wild with lust I can hardly hope to keep tame. I bring my hands to her thighs to keep her spread for me, knowing the subtle restraint will let her know exactly who’s in charge.
“Ivy?” I whisper as I breathe in the sweet scent of her nectar.
“Yes?”
“You will not hold back.”
“Understood.” Her voice is weak, tinged with defeat.
I give her slit a long lick from her virgin hole to her clit. She bucks against me, fisting the blanket as she digs the heels of her bridal shoes into my back.
Tasting her is the best kind of sin, and I intend to do so often. She is my wife, after all.
For a time.
“Mateo,” she pants my name like a prayer, her hands digging into my hair. Apparently, spiders have voracious sexual appetites.
This is how I want her. Desperate for me. Wanting release so badly, she’d be willing to give up everything.
All she’ll have left is a tiny cell and her memories of me.
My cock is throwing a damn fit. It’s rare that I ever deny myself for so long, but it was necessary. I need my wife to know everything I can do to her. Everything she will one day be denied.
I undo my belt and open my pants, but the situation is dire. I need to fuck my wife.
I pull away for the briefest of moments so I can see my spider wife’s eyes light in desperation, then; I gorge myself on her, licking, sucking, and nibbling her delicate flesh as she writhes beneath me, her needy hands digging into my shoulders as she grinds against my face.
Fuck, my wife is greedy, and I can’t help but fall under her charm. It’s not that I’m daft enough to forget what she is, but I allow her, in my mind, to be other things.
She utters one final cry before she turns to jelly, her limbs falling to the bed.
Rising to my knees, I rip off my clothes, eager to claim my bride.
Ivy regards me with fascination, her eyes widening slightly as my cock springs free from its confines.
I may not know much about her, but I’m sure that she is indeed a virgin. I like that more than I care to admit, which is surprising considering the women I typically deal with: gold diggers.
“Spread your legs,” I tell her.
She obeys, moving sluggishly.
“Not spread your pussy for me.”
Her face twists in offense, but after a brief pause, she again obeys, taking two fingers and spreading her lower lips so that I might see the length of her pretty pink sex.
“Good girl,” I say, climbing atop her.
Her body tenses as I draw up her body. She tries to turn away, but I grab her by the chin and force her gaze to mine.
“Look at me,” I snap as I bring my head to her entrance. With my eyes glued to hers, I push into my wife, struggling to tear through her tight channel.
She gasps, her nails raking my back as I push deeper into her, fighting to claim my toxic bride.
“Mateo…”she moans like a bitch in heat.
She denies me nothing.
It seems absurd that she should want this, but her desire is palpable. It’s the one thing I believe is real.
