Page 139 of The Christmas Trap

I nod.

"Are you going to drench my dick with your cum?"

"Yesss," I hiss. Helpless to the onslaught of the climax that pours over me, I shudder, and groan, and whimper as my orgasm forces its way out of me. I’m panting and seeing stars. And he holds me, rubs my back, and eases me against his chest.

I lay there, hearing the thundering of my heart in my ears, and the satisfying drumming of his in his chest. His beating as fast as mine, I note.

The next moment, he’s rising, holding me in his arms. He steps out the cubicle and sets me down. He rubs the towel over me , then himself.

His biceps bulge, his pecs bunch under his skin. My pussy clenches in response.

The heat, which is never far from the surface, is quick to rise under my skin.

Then he scoops me up once more, walks me to the bed, and lays me down on it. One flick of his hands, and I’m on my front. He grips my hips and pulls me up so I’m on my knees, my cheek flattened to the mattress. The bed dips, and the next thing I know, he’s pulling my thighs apart. I feel him between my legs, holding me up with his hands squeezing the outside of my thighs.

Then he licks up my pussy lips, and I whimper. That feels so good. I dig my fingers into the mattress, giving myself over to the sensation of him sucking on my lower lips. And slurping at my slit. And flicking his tongue around my clit. And when he plays with the pleated skin between my ass cheeks, the pinpricks of heat under my skin fan into flames.

"Please." I writhe my hips, trying to squeeze my thighs together to relieve the pressure between them.

"Keep your legs apart." He slaps my butt.

Sweet frosted pinecones. That hurts. It shouldn’t take me by surprise, but it does.

The pain rolls up my spine, pushing aside all thoughts in my head.

It’s like a sign for me to stop struggling. To relax my muscles. To take the spanking he administers on my alternate butt cheeks.

I count until twenty, and by the time he’s done, my backside smarts. I feel the individual palm prints as if burned into my butt. The skin throbs. Alternating hot and cold shivers course through me. He cups my cheeks and rubs in the pain.

I groan loudly.

"The sounds you make. I could come from the need in them alone." His voice is strained.

Then he slides his fingers inside my swollen cunt. Two… No, I count three of them. He twists them, hitting my G-spot, setting off another chain of shudders.

He pulls his fingers out. I look over my shoulder in time to see him licking them clean. His eyes are so dark, they seem almost black. His expression is one of avarice.

"I’m going to fuck you, wife."

He rises on his knees, his strong thighs bunching. He holds my gaze as he fits his swollen cock to my slit.

"Would you like me to come inside you, wife? Would you like me to leave a part of me inside you?"

Oh God. His low, dark voice is tinged with enough malice to let me know that his questions are rhetorical. He knows, as much as Ido, how much I love to have him inside me. To feel his cock swell inside me and paint my insides with his cum.

A few months ago, I’d have been horrified if someone had told me I’d be at the receiving end of such explicitness, and that it would be my husband who’d be speaking to me this way. That he’d be tying me up and spanking me, and that I’d enjoy it.

But here we are.

I want him to take me, use me and do to me whatever he wants. I want him to pleasure me. To take pleasure from me. I want him to push my limits because, damn, the orgasms are so much better when he does.

"Yes," I gasp. "Yes, please."

His eyes flash. "You beg so prettily wife. I might just oblige you."

He punches his hips forward and buries himself inside me. And doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let me catch my breath.

Every time he impales me, the force of it rattles the headboard against the wall. But he holds me pinned with his big hands on my hips. Squeezing me in such a way, I know he’s marking me, and that turns me on further. Not to mention, he has this uncanny knack of hitting my G-spot, which turns my insides into a melting, blubbering mess.