Once she came down form her high, she circled her hips, urging me to push in all the way and fuck her. Something I’d been dying to do since Vegas.
“Matteo… Come on. Just do it. Fuck me. I know you want to…”
She looked up at me over her shoulder, expectantly.
But I couldn’t. Not like this.
Pulling out, I slipped between her thighs again and started fucking her thigh gap as rough as I could.
“One of these days, you’ll beg me to fuck you,” I growled in her ear. “And you’ll be clear minded, not delirious from hours of orgasms.”
I had her in a headlock as I smashed in and out of her thigh gap, her nails digging into my bicep and forearm as the head of my cock rubbed over her clit with each stroke.
“Mark.” – thrust – “My.” – thrust – “Goddamn.” – thrust – “Words.”
She screamed. I groaned. We came at the same time. Her, shuddering in my arms and drenching my cock. Me, covering her pretty pussy with my cum.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
My. Wife.
But when it was all over… Something was off.
She was breathing hard and most probably exhausted, so I thought it best to unlock the handcuffs and give her space.
“Matteo?”
“Mhm?”
“Kiss.”
I looked at Francesca for a moment, appreciating the view for a moment.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Leaning down, I pressed my lips to hers in a slow, meaningful kiss. She met me with equal affection, and pulled me back down until I was covering her with my body weight.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I murmured against her lips for assuming she didn’t want aftercare. “Won’t happen again.”
“Why are you mad?”
“I’m not.”
“Why are you mad?”
“My wife’s driving me crazy.”
“Why?” She asked me, accusingly.
I smirked against her lips. “She’s too fucking gorgeous. It messes with my head and makes me forget very important things.”
She blushed, and it made me kiss her cheekbones.
“Like telling her how beautiful and amazing she is every day. Not just stare at her like a creep.”
She laughed. “Shut up.”
“Compliment her clothes, instead of ripping them off.”
