Page 23 of Storm

I hold in a moan, biting down on my lip harder.

“Is this what you want from me?” He pushes back in again, and I cry at the burn, unable to hold my mouth closed at his destruction of my body, an edge of unadulterated pleasure taking over. The heat is exquisite.

Building up his pace, my commander pushes in and out, holding me down, making me take all of him to the hilt. His grunts of pleasure do somersaults to my insides. I’m drenched, his thick length expertly sliding in and hitting the furthest corners of my psyche.

With the race set, each time he spears me, I’m thrust upwards on a short, sharp scream. “Don’t forget your place here, Alora. You’re mine. Do you hear me? My whore. My tainted solence. My fucking insubordinate wife to do with what I please. Don’t test me any more tonight. Or it’ll be more than my cock you’ll feel up that tight cunt.”

Heeding his gruff, exasperated warning, I keep my lips shut and decide to give him just as good as he’s getting. Wrapping my legs around his body, I thrust upwards as he charges forward. Lightning clashes. Sparks form along our skin. Pleasure so good that it makes me forget my own name greets me, and I let myself sink into him.

My moan comes unbidden for the man I hate above me.

It’s only when I’m suckered this far past any form of control that our mouths ever meet. His lips come crashing down on mine. Like everything else in our life, we fight with tongues and teeth, nipping and licking. Alcohol still lingers on his tongue, the mix heady and demanding, a sizzling thrill.

Trying to push out of his grasp and realising it’s futile, I pull away from his mouth, saying in rushed breaths, “Can I take off your clothes, please, sir?” Like a key unlocking the beast above me, my hands release. He doesn’t move any other part of him. Instead, he hovers above me, waiting, hot air mingling as I move quickly with shaking hands to unbutton his dress shirt and pants.

Even though we are no longer thrusting and grinding, his cock and my pussy throb in unison. The only time we are ever in synchrony.

With his buttons undone, he throws off his shirt. I run my hands down his defined abs, covered in a sprinkling of coarse hair that leads down to a prominent V shape. I asked him once why he keeps training with the keepers when he’s sitting on the council and doesn’t go into war zones. “Same reason I sink myself into your cunt each night, wife.” I interpreted his answer as being… Melek is a control freak, and he likes to keep his overwhelming presence known and accounted for.

Without warning, he stops my fondling of his hard chest and places my hands around his neck. Latching on, he holds my front against his. Without any help from me, he moves us back along the bed, still firmly attached by the groins. I sink into the crook of his neck and inhale his masculine spice, hoping he doesn’t notice. My eyelids flutter closed as our lower halves deliciously push in and out with the jostling.

For a minute, I completely zone out, fully encompassed by him—a drug I’ve let take over my system.

Coming back to reality, I realise we’re standing, and Melek is out of his pants, striding over to the full-length mirror in our walk-in closet. I spin the thick hair at the nape of his neck in my fingertips, trying my hardest to keep from licking all over his chest like some deranged sex fiend. Surely, my grinding all over him is already giving him that impression.

I’m my own Rubix Cube, except I am impossible to solve.

I hate him, but I think I’m a bit in love with his magical cock. And hands. And mouth.

Oh, fuck. I hate myself.

I moan into his neck.

Melek positions himself leaning against the opposite wall to the mirror so he can have a view of entering my pussy. I get a view of the stripped silver and grey wallpaper. Of course he did that on purpose. Fuckface. Even when I give in to sex, he still finds ways to undermine me.

He grips under each of my thighs from in between us, giving himself the perfect advantage to spread me out and thrust. I rest my head on his shoulder, and he pushes nearly all the way out, leaving just the tip.

We both sigh right before he pushes back in harshly. My cries are louder this time. He gives no mercy, taking me hard. I try to scramble up his tree trunk form. He holds me down, harsh breaths coming out of both of us.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

It’s all my mind can focus on. The slow glide out, leaving the tip of his cock, followed by the punishing push inwards, hitting the depths of my anger and shattering it to pieces.

Eyes watering, my climax lingering on the periphery, my pussy clenches deliciously around his hardness.

“Do you need to come, wife?” Finally, he speaks. I whimper on his shoulder. “What. Do. You. Need?” He makes it a point to drive against me at each word. “Say it.”

When he finishes his sentence, I’m a rag doll in his arms, but I manage to whisper, “Please, Sir Commander, make me come.”

A kiss lingers on my forehead. My heart clenches. Motherfucking traitor, I scream at myself.

Extracting his arms from under my thighs, he holds me to him and places me on the plush carpeted floor. Pushing my ass in the air, I make sure our bodies do not part as he comes down to meet me.

As he starts back his slow, demanding thrusts, I shake my head, moaning my frustration. His answering smirk is devious. “Needy little cum slut, aren’t you?” Leaning further in, he murmurs dangerously against my ear, “Tell me how much you need me to fill you up, wife. Do you want me to breed this hungry pussy?”