Page 63 of Guilty as Sin

Now that I know what makes my wife tick, now that I’ve unpuzzled her, now that I’ve tested her and she’s surpassed all expectations, I know she’s mine forever.

I spank her again and again until her pussy is convulsing around me. Fuck, it’s like her cunt is milking my cock. It’s all I can take. I explode inside her, thrusting as hard as I can. With my fingers digging into her ass, I slam into her overworked pussy until she screams as I come. The pain of her pleasure intoxicates me, and I’m lost in this woman. When I’ve finally pumped all of my come inside her, I let her slump forward onto my chest.

We lie there for several minutes, just catching our breath. I wait until she’s regained enough of her strength. I want to test her even further, not just her resilience, but the depth of her devotion to my instructions.

“Kneel up again,” I order. “Legs spread. Pussy over my waist.”

She makes a noise of surprise but does as I tell her. She even arches her back a little so I get the best view of her tits. Very, very good. I shove my fingers inside her. She’s slick and sticky and full of my come.

It wasn’t part of my plan, but she’s been such a good girl that I rub my thumb on her clit until she spasms around my fingers. When I pull them out, they’re covered in our combined come, evidence of how much she loves me fucking her. I lift them toward her mouth.

“Suck,” I command, and she obeys.

She closes her eyes as she licks my fingers. Then she takes them deep in her mouth, sucking them clean. Fuck me, I’m the luckiest man alive. We do that a few more times until her pussy’s no longer leaking my come. A few drops spill onto me. When I point them out, she licks every ridge of my abs.

After I’m clean and I help her down from the table, she doesn’t go straight for her clothes. Instead, she walks unsteadily across the room to retrieve the switchblade I gave her. Seeing that my gift is her priority causes a strange deepening in my chest. Like access to something I didn’t know existed.

Naked, she bends at the waist to pick up the switchblade. Giving me a prime view of her ass and pussy.

Mine.

I stride over to deliver a sharp smack to her ass cheek, relishing how she moans. One more smack to her other cheek, then I pull her upright. As she clutches the closed switchblade, I hold her to me, her warm back against my chest. She’s a perfect fit in my arms.

“Thank you for the present.” She holds the hilt up in front of her, then switches open the blade. After a few seconds of gazing at the knife, she slides it closed. As if for practice, she does it again. Open, closed. Open, closed.

Even though she’s facing away from me, I can imagine the glint in her eyes. Evidence of her desire for violence. She’s a thousand times better than the docile mafia princess I’d expected. Instead of some tamed weakling, my Cora is wild, her ferocity a creature that no one else could master. Making my conquest all the sweeter.

After we’ve finally gotten dressed, my wife slips the closed knife into a pocket of her dress. A hidden pocket I didn’t realize was there.

I decide to surprise her with a hungry kiss. As I shove my tongue in her mouth, I slide my fingers into her pocket. She tries to jerk away, but she’s too late. When I step back, I hold up the folded bill between us. It’s a benji. My sneaky, devious girl.

“Is this from my cash register?”

“Yes.” She lifts her pointed chin high. I inhale sharply, ready to bend her over my knee right now. But then I realize—that’s what she wants.

“Did you steal from me just so I’d punish you?”

“No,” she says. “I didn’t plan on getting caught.”

I narrow my eyes at her as I tuck the bill into my inner pocket. She raises one eyebrow, daring me to accuse her of lying. I study her face. Her steady gaze, her unflinching expression. I’m surprised by what I read there.

She’s telling the truth. She had no intention of revealing her hidden pocket.

“I had one more thing to show you tonight,” I say, and her eyebrow goes higher. “But now, I don’t think you deserve to see it.”

Her little nostrils flare at me as she takes a deep breath. I’ve outplayed her, and she knows it. A hundred-dollar bill is nothing compared to the temptation of something withheld. I watch my wife fight with herself before reaching her decision.

With her nostrils still flared, she lowers herself to her knees. I feel viciously triumphant as she clasps her hands in front of her. My supplicant.

“Forgive me, Brady, for I have sinned.” Her ice-blue eyes burn up at me. She sounds completely unapologetic, but I place my hand on top of her head anyway.

“What sin do you ask forgiveness for?”

“Lust.”

“Lust for money?”

“Lust for power.” The way she says power is so ardent that I’m envious of the word itself.