Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
I’m dizzy. Floating.
To know she feels even an iota of my jealousy, of my obsession, is startling and breathtaking and glorious. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it.
“I have to go,” I rasp, lunging to my feet and stumbling out of the office to the sound of Tobias’s knowing chuckle. The walk home is a blur. I don’t see anything. No cars, no people, no trees. There is only getting home to my wife. I play the recording in my head on a loop, marveling, rejoicing. Thanking God. I am not alone in this wild love that grows and grows without cease. She is right there with me.
When I walk into the house, Ali and Jack come running from the living room and I hoist them up into the air, hugging them to my chest. Letting my daughter, the youngest, pat my face with her crumb-covered hands.
“Dada home.”
“Is he?” comes Cindy’s voice. “So early?”
She peeks around the corner of the entryway and I see it now. Right before she schools her features. I see the lust. I see her covet me, even though every inch of me, inside and out, belongs to her. Color appears on her cheeks and she works to keep her breathing even. My God. Is this real? How have I not seen it all along that we’re fighting the same affliction? We’ve never hidden the fact that we love each other. We say it and show it every chance we get, but this runs deeper. Very deep.
Cindy comes fully into view and my breath seizes in my lungs. She’s already dressed for our night out in a tiny black cocktail dress and heels.
“Is your mother here?”
She nods. “In the living room.”
I kiss both of my children on their heads without taking my eyes off their mom. “Go see Grandma. I need to speak to Mommy upstairs.”
As soon as I set Ali and Jack down, they run off. And I don’t waste a second.
I stride forward, scoop my surprised wife into my arms and take the stairs two at a time. Jesus, she is so goddamn beautiful, her long hair loose and hanging over my arm, her lips popped open, a questioning look on her face. My chest is going to explode before I get this straightened out.
We reach our bedroom and I set her down in those heels, immediately stripping off my shirt and going to work on the fly of my jeans. I begin backing her toward the bathroom. “Um…” She’s already flushed, eyes glazing over. “H-how was therapy?”
“Enlightening.”
“Oh.” Her ass hits the edge of the bathroom vanity. “How so?”
I don’t answer. I just take out my cock in a fist and listen to her whimper. “Have I not made it fucking clear that you own this dick, little girl?”
Her nipples grow stiff inside her dress. “Y-you have. You have.”
Still holding my shaft, I crowd her up against the sink, baring my teeth against her soft lips. “Do you hold back with me, Cindy?”
A long pause. “What?” she whispers.
“Do you. Hold back. With me?” Giving into temptation, I capture her mouth in long, moaning kiss. “Are there ways you want to act with me and you don’t?”
“N-no.”
“The truth now.”
For several seconds, she stares straight ahead at my throat. Then her chin firms and she murmurs, “Mine.”
It’s hard to speak around the tightness in my throat, but I manage it. “Louder, wife. Don’t you dare hold back with me.”
She starts breathing faster, her eyes flashing dangerously. And then she stomps her foot down on the tile floor. “Mine! My husband.” She shoves at my chest. “You can’t just walk around looking like this.”
“Like what?”
Her body softens, begins to writhe between mine and the sink, like she can’t help it, and my cock stiffens like nobody’s business. “You’re so big and hard and capable and thick. And I…”
I’m going to come. I swear to God. “What, baby?”
“I don’t like being without you. I don’t like you being without me,” she whispers, as if she’s confessing a horrible secret. “Oh God…I’m clingy. And jealous and I have to stop myself from calling you a hundred times a day to come fuck me—”
My groan has to be shaking the rafters of our townhouse, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but getting inside my wife’s pussy. I love her, I love her, I love her. I am obsessed with her. Jesus Christ. How did I lock this woman down?
“Turn around,” I growl, manhandling her. Not waiting for her to follow my instructions, I spin her around and yank up the skirt of her dress, palming her sexy derriere a moment, slapping both cheeks with the flat of my hand, before tugging down her black, see-through thong. And then I lock eyes with her in the mirror above the sink and fill her with cock in one rough punch. My hand covers her mouth to trap the scream at the last second, my hips already busy. I kick open her stance, bend her over and fuck without holding back. “You think you go on a single job without me, little girl?” I grunt into her ear. “I follow you. I track your phone and I follow. You think I allow you to kneel in the dirt in public, where other men can see you? Never. I’ve threatened to kill so many motherfuckers, I should be in prison. You are mine. Your heart is mine. This tight little cunt is mine. Do you understand me?”