Page 132 of Sins of Arrogance

I have her naked and strad­dling my still jean cov­ered thighs so fast, even I’m not sure how it hap­pens.

Kara doesn’t mind, giv­ing her body to me with the gen­eros­ity I crave and will never be able to live with­out.

Her per­fect nip­ples are al­ready swollen and turgid, dark as berries from her arousal.

Arousal that is teas­ing my nos­trils and call­ing to the pri­mal urge to fuck and con­quer. The tan­ta­liz­ing fra­grance of her body’s lu­bri­ca­tion, along with the scent of her skin.

I lean down and kiss each gor­geous peak, first softly with my lips closed. Left breast. Right breast. Then again with my lips parted, breath­ing hot air against the sen­si­tive flesh. And once more with a swirl of my tongue, rev­el­ing in the taste of her skin as much as its petal soft­ness. Fi­nally I let my­self taste her with car­nal in­ten­sity, gen­tly tug­ging with my teeth be­fore suck­ing her nip­ple into my mouth.

She’s squirm­ing and moan­ing be­fore I move onto her other de­li­cious tit.

These baps are mine.

She knows it. And I know it.

She groans and presses her­self against my mouth.

No more hold­ing back. No more de­nial of the truth.

We be­long to each other.

The in­vi­ta­tion is too sweetly given to ig­nore. I pull back, tak­ing her nip­ple be­tween my teeth and teas­ing it with the tip of my tongue.

“Stop teas­ing me, Michael! You know what I need.”

She needs to come.

But not yet.

She’s so sen­si­tive here. Af­ter giv­ing birth to Fitz, that sen­si­tiv­ity only in­creased. Mak­ing her cli­max from nip­ple stim­u­la­tion alone isn’t some­thing I al­ways have the pa­tience for.

But when I do, it is al­ways worth it.

For both of us.

“You are so per­fect for me, mo chuisle.”

Whim­per­ing, her breath­ing grows in­creas­ingly er­ratic.

I gen­tly nip her swollen berry.

She arches up, mak­ing her pil­lowy soft­ness in­dent against my mouth. “Oh, yesssss…”

I pull her nip­ple and the sur­round­ing au­re­ole com­pletely into my mouth and start suck­ling hard.

In­co­her­ent pleas fall from her lips, her fin­gers tun­nel into my hair and yank. Not to get me away, but be­cause she needs some­thing to hold onto.

Con­cen­trat­ing all my ex­per­tise and knowl­edge of my wife and her re­sponses, I move from one de­li­cious tit to the other, sa­vor­ing each over and over again.

Push­ing her to­ward com­ple­tion, but not let­ting her come.

Not yet.

She writhes in my lap, rub­bing the apex of her thighs against my steel hard cock, un­con­sciously plea­sur­ing us both.

Prim­i­tive need holds me back from giv­ing her my fin­gers.

Slid­ing my hands over her back­side, I press them be­tween her fleshy cheeks, touch­ing the sen­si­tive rose­bud.