Page 1 of Yearn

Prologue

Licking Stretchmarks

Dominic

Her dress was bunched at her waist and her panties tossed to the side. Even more, Teyonah was spread out on the kitchen table like a forbidden feast, and I was starving for her pussy.

The wood groaned as I slid her knees to the edge, nudged them wider with my hips, and stood between her thighs.

But I didn’t care if the table gave out.

In fact, I wanted this fucking table to break. To never recover from her moans, her surrender, and my erotic destruction.

I wanted to scar and crack the grain with my cock slamming into her. Yearned to stain the wood with my cum and mark it forever.

Then later, she could never look at this table the same again. It would not be the place where her young sons dropped their homework or ate their bowls of cereal.

It would not be the place where her husband pretended to read the newspaper online as he really lust-scrolled on his phone and ignored her. That smug, unrepentant bastard, who still expected her to swallow his lies with her morning coffee. Every time I thought of her husband’s hands on her, I wanted to break his fingers one by one.

From now on, she would see this object as my operating table where she was my only patient.

Shit. . .I wanted to fuck her into this table until the noise dragged her husband downstairs and made him choke to death on his own rage. I needed him to see her head thrown back, mouth open, moaning for me in ways she never had for him. To realize too late that he’d lost due to taking her for granted.

Maybe then he’ll regret coming back after he betrayed her.

I looked down at Teyonah.

Why is she so beautiful?

For now, my cock was still caged in my pants, but my pierced tongue was hungry and ready to devour her pussy.

She closed her eyes, and for a second I swore she was trying to remember the last time anyone touched her like this—like she was more than a mother, more than a wife, more than tired hands on a clock.

I grabbed the dress bunched at her waist.

She opened her eyes and parted her lips.

I shoved the dress higher to display her belly, and locked both hands around the large curvy softness.

Fuck yeah.

Deranged groans ripped from my throat.

Her belly trembled under my palms, soft, lush, and warm with heat from her arousal.

She flinched and tried to push my hands away.

I put them right back on her belly and sneered. “Don’t you ever move my hands again.”

My voice had cut sharper than any scalpel. However, she had to know that she wasn’t in charge here. I was the surgeon, and I decided how deep the cut would go.

Still, she swallowed, and there was a lot of fear in her eyes. Fear of desiring a secret fantasy buried deep, the kind she’d been taught was sin. Fear of giving herself to a younger man who refused to see her as untouchable. Fear that her own body was betraying her.

And beneath that fear, I saw hunger too—the kind that grows from years of being strong alone, years where no one truly fed her soul.

The ache of a woman constantly overlooked.

I’m not going to let your fears stop us today.