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I didn’t walk into the bathroom to fuck Isabella. I came to see if she was okay. I’d gone to the store and back to find she was still in the bath. I’d stalked in here, worried and angry at her, only to find my water nymph with her hands in her pussy, enjoying the attention of the bath’s water jets.
I’d never seen anything more erotically beautiful in all my life. The way Isabella gives herself over to pleasure with such abandonment pushes me to the limits of my self-control.
My cock had stood ramrod straight, instantly hard. It pulsed with a need so strong it took everything I had not to dive into the bath and ram my cock into her tight hole.
I could see she was about to cum, and I’d felt a surge of unrealistic anger at fucking bath jets that were about to bring my wife to orgasm. I’d instantly shut them off and ripped her hands away from her pussy.
An overwhelming surge of possessiveness hit me. Isabella’s mine! I have eight weeks of pent-up sexual frustration building inside me, and I will be the one to bring her release—not a fucking bath.
Sexual frustration that only my beautiful, frustrating, and stubborn water nymph of a wife can sate. And I intend to spend tonight doing just that.
Just washing her porcelain smooth skin and feeling how each stroke of my hands or lips makes her quiver makes my cock throb a little more.
Her belly is still flat and hasn’t rounded much, and with our twins at eight weeks pregnant, I don’t think it would. But fuck, her tits have become fuller, more sensitive than they already were—they are even more magnificent.
I’m going to enjoy watching all of Isabella swell with our twins growing inside her. As I wash and tease her nipples, I can’t stop myself from giving each one a lick, making them draw to tight buds.
After rinsing off the top half of Isabella’s body, I grab her and pull her into the water with me. She yelps in surprise, her eyes flying accusingly to mine.
I smirk and pick up the cloth again, moving to her pussy. I tease her clit, hole, and tight little ass with the cloth, eliciting soft cries from her. She’s so responsive, so sensitive to my touch. I can feel my arousal building,
“Turn over onto your hands and knees,” I command, my voice hoarse and strained from the tight control I’m exerting over my own almost overwhelming desire for her.
Isabella complies, presenting her delicious ass to me. I groan, my fingers digging into her hips as I take in the sight of her. My little minx has a dark side, and I’m more than happy to indulge her.
I lean in and replace the cloth with my lips, kissing and licking her firm ass cheeks. She gasps and moans, her hips bucking back towards me. I slip my finger between her ass cheeks, teasing her tight entrance before moving the cloth over her anus, stroking firmly around the puckered hole.
“Oh, fuck!” Isabella groans, her body starting to shake.
I move my tongue from her anus around to her pussy, swirling it around the opening and tasting her juices that drip onto my tongue. My finger circles her swollen clit, and she lifts her hips to grind herself into my face.
“Oh God, yes,” she cries. “Please, Andrey. Please…” She pushes her head against the towel on the bath, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “I need… I need…” her voice is threaded with a husky lilt from desire.
“You need what, princess,” I ask her, removing my tongue.
“Oh, God, please, please…” Isabella begs. “Please, fuck me. I need to feel you inside me, on me, all over me. Please, please, just fuck me!” She screams.
I chuckle softly at her throaty cries, giving her clit one last swirl of my tongue before kneeling behind her.
My cock is throbbing, aching to be inside her. I slide it deep inside her in a long, smooth stroke, feeling her walls clench around me.
I pull out just as slowly, and Isabella moves her hips impatiently, begging for more. I oblige, thrusting into her again and again, my hands gripping her hips tightly.
She moans and cries out, her body writhing beneath me. I can feel her getting closer, her muscles tensing around me.
“Yes, baby, come for me,” I murmur in her ear. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”
She cries out, her orgasm hitting her hard. I feel her pussy clenching and pulsing around me, and I can’t hold back any longer. With a few more hard thrusts, I come inside her, my own orgasm washing over me in waves of pleasure.
Holding her close, we collapse into the bath together, both panting and spent. But as her soft mound rubs against me, milking the last pulses of ecstasy, I can’t help but question my actions. Is this just physical gratification or something deeper? At the back of my mind, I know that answer; I just refuse to acknowledge it.
As our bodies cool down in the now lukewarm water, I realize that she has fallen asleep in my arms. A part of me is angry at her for keeping secrets and trying to run away, yet another part of me can no longer deny the love I have for her.
I didn’t just want Isabella the first night I met her—the moment those blazing eyes turned to me, I knew she was the one. My anger is not just that Isabella is trying to run away from this life I lead—it’s that she runs from me as well.
Carefully getting out of the tub, I cradle her against me with a fluffy towel, feeling conflicted as she snuggles closer. Despite everything, my heart still beats for her. But can I ever truly trust her? Isabella has deceived me more than once already with her complacency.
My fear is not just that she tries something stupid again in her obsession to run from this world we live in. It’s what happens if she does get away and lands herself in a position where we don’t get to her in time.
