Page 79 of The Bad Husband

Is he a harsh man?

Is he a powerful man having a hard time controlling his power?

Does he feel challenged by me?

Has he always been like this?

These are the questions that will remain unanswered.

Is he jealous of Frankie?

He probably is.

But I’m not ready yet to be claimed by him.

He folds his belt and strikes the flesh between my legs openly. And then he begins to alternate the strikes to something else. He uses two fingers to penetrate me, and I almost lose it. Unable to breathe properly, I feel like I’m about to pass out.

He reaches just in time to my mouth and peels off the tape from my face before he unlocks the cuffs and tosses them on the floor. The noise is loud. He doesn’t care, which only proves he told me the truth.

No one can hear us.

On all fours, I arch my back and enjoy the feeling of his fingers inside me. He uses his belt again. I don’t mind it.

Then he spreads the moisture from my pussy around my opening, and over my clit.

He strokes my clit and fingers me, and I moan and rock my hips.

“My little plaything,” he says, his voice mellow, lustful. “I could watch this forever.”

Another strike, another deep move of his fingers inside me. His fingers slide with ease through a pool of wetness as he truly masters the art of fingering a woman.

My center pulses as I begin to scale up.

He rolls my skirt even higher until it bunches up around my waist.

“Perfect woman,” he says seriously, finger fucking me slowly yet firmly as if he knows exactly the rhythm that I like.

When the rocking of my hips becomes uncontrollable and erratic, he moves his fingers away from me, and the next thing I feel is his mouth on me.

His lips, his tongue, the gentle bite of his teeth.

He eats me out without letting me scale down and shifting from being turned on to questioning my judgment.

I roll my hips against his mouth, wanting his kisses, his licking, his sucking on me, his tongue fucking.

And swiftly I move up and up and sense that impossible-to-stop pleasure surging through me, and I’m in awe at how good it feels. How liberating. How much it makes me want him despite everything I’ve learned about him tonight.

“Damon,” I call softly, gripping the sheet.

He pushes to his feet, slides his zipper down, and thrusts his hard, chiseled, throbbing cock in.

A victorious crying moan crawls up my throat.

He catches me just as I’m about to come, and without much pampering, he starts pounding into me ferociously.

I go up high, experience the most intense orgasm of my life, and the throbbing that comes after.

He keeps hammering into me, his fingers digging deep into my hips, his groin slamming into my ass, the sound of skin on skin drifting through the air.