Page 138 of The Christmas Trap

It's a different side from the woman I interviewed for the role of my EA.

I was immediately entranced by her.

She never hesitated to go toe-to-toe with me. She delivered on her promise of being a spitfire. But that guilelessness that marked her out like she was wearing a crown of neon is now tarnished. By me. It’s both humbling and a source of pride that I was the one to awaken those hidden cravings in her.

I created this version of her who craves being dominated by me. Who’ll yield only to me. Who’ll never bend that proud head to anyone else except me. A fierce protectiveness arises in me. I shaped her. Molded her into my fantasy.

A woman who's both fiery and submissive. Who can match my intelligence in the boardroom. Who isn’t scared of exploring the kinkier side of herself. Who looks at me like the sun rises and sets with me.

It's hard to miss the adoration in her eyes; it makes me feel twenty feet tall. That yearning with which she now looks at me while swallowing around my cock.

Her features are flushed. The pulse at the base of her neck flutters like the wings of a dragonfly. One who will be imprisoned by me. For I’m never letting her go. The decision sinks into me, and instantly, a sense of utter peace, of rightness, descends on me. Of course, I’m not allowing her to leave me. She’s mine. I married her. I’m keeping her.

I’m never letting her go.

She must see some of the emotions flickering across my features, for her gaze widens. She begins to sit back on her heels, but I hold her in place with my grip on her hair. I ease her forward, and my dick slips down her throat. I hold her there once more, allowing her to adjust to my size. Then slide my hand down to cup her swollen tit. I pinch her nipple, and she almost loses her balance. Of course, my hold on her keeps her upright. The flush spreads to her décolletage, then her torso. The rosy hue covering her skin is a delight. I slide my foot between her knees and kick them further apart.

Her shoulders tremble; her pupils are so blown, she might wellbe on a hallucinogen. A flush of pride fills me. I did this to her. I’m the one to give her so much pleasure, she looks like it might take but a touch before she climaxes.

"Don’t you dare come," I warn.

Her gaze narrows. A flash of obstinacy lights up her eyes. I allow a small chuckle to escape.

I’ve pissed her off. Good. I want her to fight me. Not that it’s a fair scenario; I’m going to win. Her body knows who’s in charge. Not that it’s going to stop her from putting up a spirited defense.

To illustrate my point, I arch my foot so my toe grazes across her slit. She jumps. Her breathing intensifies. The green of her eyes turns almost golden. Fuck, she’s beautiful when she’s aroused. Tied down by nothing but my words. Which makes her struggle more delicious.

My cock thickens, pushing out on the walls of her mouth. I tighten my hold on her nipple and tweak it. At the same time, I breach her slit with my big toe and begin to fuck her mouth in earnest.

The triple assault on her senses makes her entire body jolt. Her thighs tremble, her shoulders snap back, and I know she’s close. I straighten my foot so I can slip my toe inside her channel fully. I ease her head back, then forward. And when I punch my hips, I hit the back of her throat.

She gags. Her inner walls close around my toe. And I realize then, the assault is as much on my senses. For my balls draw up. I release my hold on her and cup both of her breasts, massaging them.

"I’m coming."

46

Lark

That’s all the warning I get. I feel his shaft kick back as he empties himself down my throat. I can barely taste him.

He’s come inside me so many times the last few days, yet each climax lasts a long time. When he pulls back, I taste the salty, musk of his cum. He paints my lips with the crown of his cock. And when I lick it up, something shifts behind his eyes.

He hauls me up and replaces my tongue with his. He swipes it across my mouth, and when I part my lips, he slides his tongue inside. He lifts me up and onto his lap, so I straddle him. My pussy slides over his heavy shaft.

And even though he’s come, he’s still erect.

It feels so good to have him throb against my opening.

He’d feel better if he were to stuff the aching hollow inside with it. When I begin to rub myself up against the thick column, I expect him to stop me. Instead, he leans back further, trains his gaze onwhere my pussy drips all over his cock and drawls, "If you can come, you may."

I almost cry out in relief. I balance my knees on either side of him, gripping the outside of his thighs, then begin to work myself over the ridge of his cock. Oh God. That feels so good.

I let my head fall back, open my mouth, aware I’m making little noises, very explicit noises, as I grind myself on the column of his dick. Again. And again. And again. Until the tightness at the base of my spine expands out, grips my thighs, and rises up my spine. I still don’t stop. I’m aware his heavy palms are on my hips, balancing me.

I grip his arms, all of my focus on where I’m pleasuring myself on his cock.

"Such a slut you are, wife. Are you going to come all over my shaft?"