Eyes locked, I lose myself inside her when, from the corner of my eye, I see her reaching for something on the desk. It’s a letter opener.
In one swift move, she presses it against my throat.
“Want to kill me, wife?” I ask, thrusting so hard inside her, she clenches her fingers around the pointy instrument not to let it slip.
Something vicious flashes in her gaze, and she nips my neck. It only makes me harder, and she feels it, her eyes rolling back.
“No, you can’t kill me.”
Her pupils blow out, half in arousal, half in rage. “So sure?”
I lower my head and she lowers the knife, proving me right. Arching up, she licks the droplets of blood from my neck. “Maybe I’m waiting for the right moment.”
“There won’t ever be a right moment, mi sol. You know why?” I say, voice hoarse and on the point of breaking apart. Fuck, if this is not the most disturbing yet erotic experience of my life.
I bite her jaw and lick along her cheek, driving inside her with a feral thrust. “You’re a slut for my cock, wife. You’re mine. Heart.” Bite. “Mind.” Lick. “Body.” Thrust. “Not even death could change that.”
She wets her lips, a shaky breath parting her mouth. “Betrayal would.”
“I told you that you could kill me if I ever betrayed you.”
She is about to lift her hand, but I am faster and pin her hands above her head on the desk. The silver letter opener clangs to the floor with a thud, forgotten as we give in to our animalistic sides.
Groans and moans echo, our bodies slapping together in carnal bliss. I am too far gone, pouring everything I have into her until she can’t do anything but surrender.
Anger and passion. Love and deceit. Lies and truths. They are interwoven, silent witnesses to our every fiery encounter.
She writhes beneath me, gripping me so well, my vision blackens for a moment. My balls become heavier with my impending release, both shattering together on a long moan.
Chest panting, I watch her spread on my desk, cum and juices leaking from her pussy and painting her thighs.
Reaching out a finger, I gather it and play with her folds, smearing her pussy with the lines of my tattoo in a V and Z, the same she wanted on her nape, too, but we never got to do it together.
I stare at my mark on her while she catches her breath and leans on her forearms.
Placing two fingers under her chin, I tip her face up. “You’re mad at me. Why?”
“Guess.”
“Stop playing games. You’ve been doing that since you showed up,” I snap, losing my patience, and fall back into the chair.
She stabs me with an angry look as she slides off the desk and straightens her skirt. “I’m tired. I had a long week.”
“Happy to be of help. I feel fucking used,” I grumble.
She pats her chest in mock sympathy. “I’m so sorry. Did I imagine you coming inside of me for so long, it’s a wonder the contraceptive still works.”
A dream.
“You can tell me anything. We can talk about everything.”
She expels a deprecating snort and spins around. Her heels dig into the shards, causing a jarring sound as I watch her leave. I’m about to follow her when my phone rings and my aunt’s sobs pierce my ears. “He’s gone, Vian. He’s gone.”
“I’m on my way,” I say, tucking myself in.
I can’t lose it. I can’t lose it.This is not the first time I’ve lost a loved one, but with him gone, it’s like another piece of me vanishes, hardening me some more.
“Zara,” I cry out, and she rushes back inside, the harsh attitude melting from her as she sees me bracing the desk.
