Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Fuck this, I’m done waiting.
I tear open the package and rip one of the condoms off. It takes all of a few seconds to get my cock out and roll it down my length. I don’t take off the rest of my clothes. This situation is out of control enough without losing that last bit of a barrier. It’s already clear I won’t put Aphrodite in her place like this, but I’ll keep my word and consummate this sham of a marriage.
Back at the bed, I lift her hips higher and grab her hand. She tenses. “What…oh.” I press it to my cock, letting her feel the condom.
“You won’t trap me like this.”
She laughs, low and throaty. “As if I need to. We’re already married, Husband.”
She’s right. I hate that she’s right.
I knock her hand away and press against her entrance. Once again, Aphrodite doesn’t give me a chance to decide how I want to play this. She shoves back against me, sheathing me to the hilt.
A choked curse escapes despite my best efforts. She clamps around me, tight enough that I almost lose it right then and there. It’s been too long since I was with someone. That’s the only reason I’m in danger of coming so fast. It’s not because of the sexy as fuck flare of her waist that seems made for my hands. Or the way she tilts her hips up to take me deeper yet.
I grab her hips, holding us sealed together, as I fight for control. This is only the first battle in a war that might last years. I can’t let her defeat me. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“One cock is as good as another.” The words are harsh, but her voice is too breathy to really pull it off. “You could be anyone.”
Smarter to think of it that way. To pretend she’s some stranger I will never have to see it again. To let myself enjoy this pleasure, even a little bit. Almost against my will, my attention lands on the diamond on her ring finger. This isn’t a stranger. This is my wife. I’d be a fool to forget that. “But I’m not just anyone, Wife. It’s your husband’s cock you’re about to come all over.” I thrust a little, vindicated when she gives a choked curse in response.
I really should know better by now. She’s not one to take any kind of dominance passively, because of fucking course she isn’t. She might be pinned on my cock, but that doesn’t stop her from wresting the control right out of my hands. “Yeah, I am about to come. No thanks to you,” she gasps. She still has her hand between her thighs, stroking her clit even as her pussy flutters around me. Little moans slip free, the sounds surprisingly sweet for such a vicious witch.
Holy fuck, she really is coming.
My body takes over, even as my mind grapples with this surreal experience. I drive into her, needing to get deeper, to take her harder. Her moans grow louder, and she’s arching her back, angling to take me the same way I’m taking her.
Three strokes in, I realize I don’t give a fuck about lasting. She’s ensured her own pleasure. I’m a sap if I do anything else. I curse and jerk her back onto my cock, giving in to the pressure building in my balls. I come so hard, it makes me dizzy. I want to keep fucking her, to drive into her again and again until…
Until I don’t know what.
I stare down at the point where we’re joined. Sex is sex, and its importance begins and ends with having a good time. Except this isn’t sex. I just passed the point of no return. There can be no annulment now.
We’re well and truly married.
I withdraw from her, careful to keep the condom in place, and stagger into the bathroom. I’m no steadier once I’ve cleaned up, so I splash some cold water on my face. There’s the rest of the night to get through, and though I have no intention of fucking my wife again, I still have to learn to live with her.
Except when I step back into the bedroom, it’s to find her pulling on a different dress. It’s a vibrant red and barely covers her ass and tits. It’s also tight enough that I can tell she’s not wearing a thing under it.
“What are you doing?”
She brushes past me, still wearing those damned heels, and finger-combs her hair in front of the mirror. “Our business is done for the night, dear husband. I’m off to have some fun.”
Alarm bells peal through my head. This isn’t going at all like I thought it would. She doesn’t seem affected by the fact we had sex at all.
Not that I’m affected by the sex at all. More that past partners have usually wanted to talk or cuddle or some shit after the fact. Maybe go for round two or three. They aren’t dressed after fucking and taking off the first chance they get. “Running away?”