by Kati Wilde
Her face is flushed with lust and laughter, and she looks so pleased with herself. God, this woman. I want to give her everything.
But especially give her what she wants. Gruffly I tell her, “You think I don’t know why you’re keeping me out? Because your pussy will expose what a liar you are. It’s soaked, isn’t it?”
“No,” she moans, moving restlessly as my fingers continue toward the tight V of her clenched thighs.
“Then I suppose it won’t matter if I rub your little clit, either? Does it feel good when I touch you like this?”
With the blunt pad of my middle finger, I tease the slick nub at the apex of her sex. Her breath stutters, her lips parting, her eyelids fluttering.
“Does it feel good, baby?”
“Stop it,” she whispers helplessly and I circle her clit faster and harder, her hands clenching on my arms. “I don’t like it.”
“Your pussy likes it. You’ve got it closed up tight but my finger’s already wetter than when I started. Should I try to get in deeper and see how drenched it is?”
“No.” It comes out as a thin, needy cry. “Don’t.”
I do. And holy fuck, she’s so goddamn hot and wet as I work my thick finger farther into her slit and press into her narrow channel. She’s moaning no please no the whole time, her head rolling from side to side, her thigh muscles letting up on the pressure locking her legs together and her hips lifting as if to push me in deeper.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I growl as her inner walls clamp down on my invading finger. “Do you still have a cherry in here, baby? Did I marry a virgin?”
Eyes glazed with pleasure, she shakes her head.
“So you let someone else touch this delicate pussy? Maybe some rich businessman with soft hands?”
Those icy eyes clear and she snaps, “No!”
That was a real no. She doesn’t like me going in that direction.
I don’t like it much, either. “Someone like me, then? A mechanic with dirty, callused hands and a big cock? Did you let him break in your virgin cunt and pump a load of cum inside you?”
“Yes,” she says breathily, softening again. “Because I love him. He’s so sweet and wonderful to me.”
That sweet and wonderful bastard has two thick fingers screwing into her pussy, his thumb is rubbing her hot little clit, and he’s fucking dying for a taste of both. Snarling, I tell her, “You can forget about that asshole. You’ve got me for a husband now, and it’s my cock you crave. I’m the only one you want.”
“No,” she cries out softly, her hips starting to twitch erratically.
“You’re lying to me,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “And if you lie to me, I’ll have to punish you for it. Do you know what happens to good little rich girls who lie? They get a rough, nasty fuck.”
Her cunt constricts around my fingers. “Oh my god. No, please.”
So wet. So hot. “You’re going to come, aren’t you? You say you don’t want my touch but you’re about to come all over my hand.”
She shakes her head wildly, moaning, “No, no, no. Stop making me come, stop making me come—”
Then looks completely bewildered when I do. With confusion in her eyes she stares up at me, biting her lip against the desperate frustration still twisting through her hips, a frantic whine sounding low in her throat.
I suck her juices off my fingers, hungry for a deeper taste, but this is already a little mean. She’s right on the edge, hurting. She loves my mouth, but giving her anything except the hard fuck I just promised would be cruel.
Loosening my hold on her, I stroke my erection with the wetness still coating my palm. “After all that lying, you think I’ll let you come on anything but my cock? And you better not try to get away, baby, or your punishment will be a lot worse when I catch you.”
It takes a second for my meaning to sink in, and another second before she’s got her legs steady enough to make a break for it. Then she shoves at me, and this time I let her push me back a step. Free of my grip, she races toward the Christmas tree, jumping on top of an oversized leather ottoman as she goes—just like she jumped on her bed one time, I remember. Claiming the high ground. Turning, she checks to see how close I am. Indecision wars on her beautiful face for an instant. Because my Audrey loves to win. But she also wants to be caught. And I’m real damn curious about how long she’ll try to evade me.
Only about two seconds. Because as I approach the ottoman, she leaps off in the other direction, speeds around a couch, then abruptly flings herself facedown over the cushioned arm, her butt in the air and her fuzzy socks flailing.
“Oh no!” she wails. “I tripped! Now you’ll catch me and punish me!”
And she fucking kills me. In every way, she kills me. I’ve never seen anything so damn adorable or funny or sweet, and I might have fallen to the floor laughing if that long shirt hadn’t also slid up over her ass, and if her awkward position wasn’t teasing me with a glimpse of wet, pink pussy. So instead of laughing, instead of falling, my aching cock drags me into place behind her. She’s hanging over the couch’s arm with her elbows braced on a seat cushion, her blonde hair falling out of her bun in a wild, curling tangle. Her ass is positioned perfectly, tilted up at just the right angle for a hard fuck into her cunt, and her feet don’t touch the floor. Which means she won’t be able to get any leverage once I’ve put weight on her.
Her quivering body goes utterly still as I press the thick head of my cock to her small opening. “Oh please no,” she whispers, her voice full of need. “I don’t want you to—”
Fill her. So deep. She cries out as one powerful thrust takes me home. And that’s where I stay for an endless moment, wrapped in a paradise of snug, wet heat. Fuck. Teeth gritted, I grind into her before drawing back, her slick inner walls clutching tight and trying to suck me in.
“Oh my god,” Audrey gasps. She’s come up on her hands, holding herself up straight-armed and with her spine bowed in a deep arch. “Please don’t do that again.”
“I intend to do it a thousand fucking times.” I give her a shallow thrust before pulling almost all the way out, then take her hips in a firm hold. “Don’t struggle.”
Immediately she begins to wriggle her ass, fighting my grip, and a groan rips from my chest as all that motion works her swollen channel up and down my shaft. I shove in to the hilt, and she falls forward with a little scream, then buries her moan in the cushion.
I grind into her again, deep and slow. “Christ, you’re so fucking wet. You love my big cock stretching your hot little pussy, don’t you?”
“I don’t love it,” is her muffled cry. “I don’t.”
“There you go lying again. So you know what happens now, baby?” I tell her hoarsely. “I’m going to fuck your pussy raw.”
Her cunt clamps down on my cock so fucking hard that stars burst behind my eyes. Suddenly she goes wild, coming up on her hands again, fighting against my grip, begging, “No, no, no please please don’t fuck me like you want me more than anything.”
Like I want her more than anything. And I remember the hopeful way she said this before. Fucking her pussy raw. But it was never about the fucking. It was about someone wanting her. The ice queen who isn’t icy at all, but who simply doesn’t show emotion in a typical way. This fantasy isn’t about her pretending to be cold and not wanting me, then being fucked as punishment. It’s about someone seeing through the ice to the flame within, about someone wanting that inner flame so desperately that they’d do anything to have her.
Just like I would.
It’s with only a bare thread of control left that I curl my fingers around the front of her throat and bend over to growl into her ear, “I do want you that much, Audrey Motherfuckin’ Clarke. More than any other goddamn thing in the world. You understand?”
Her breath coming in sobbing pants, she nods. “Yes, Caleb. Please.”
“Anything you need, baby.” A rough lick of my tongue up the side of her neck makes her shiver u
ncontrollably, then I release her. She falls forward onto the cushion again while I dig my fingers into her hips and unleash the beast that’s been clawing me up from the second I met her. Rabid lust that sinks its teeth deeper into me with every savage thrust. Her pussy seizes up on the fourth stroke, her scream muffled by the cushion, her sock-covered heels drumming my lower back. Every time before, I stopped and held myself deep inside her while she orgasmed, savored the convulsions of her sweet flesh over every inch of my cock, but now I fuck my way through her clenching sheath with bone-rattling jerks of my hips.
I need to feel her come again. Ruthlessly I grip her quivering thigh and push her left leg forward, with her knee pressed against the back of the couch and giving me a better angle to ram deep, the thick curve of my erection powering over the spot in the front wall of her cunt that gets her off every damn time. Audrey cries out, her hips hitching up and down, her pussy nearly strangling my shaft. Grunting, I fuck her harder.
Blistering heat roils the length of my spine, sparks firing at the base of my cock as the wet sounds of our fucking and the unadulterated pleasure of her moans echo through the room. There are words mixed in, gasps of love you and please and like that oh god just like that. Then her head jerks forward, her back arches and she comes all at once, a liquid rush of clenching heat that threatens to drag me along into oblivion.
But I’m not done. My arm beneath her waist, I haul her up and swing her over toward the oversized ottoman. Her body hangs like a rag doll’s, head lolling, her pussy still holding my cock in its voluptuous grip. She moans a little protest as I pull out and lay her back on the smooth leather, but the orgasm wiped her out and she doesn’t have much protest left. Not much of anything left, but I want so goddamn much from her.
She moans as my mouth closes over her clit. Because she’s not coming again just on my cock, I damn well know that. But I’m not fucking her raw unless she’s along for the ride with me.
And she’s so sensitive, so hot, it barely takes any time to get her going again. Barely any time before I’m shoving her knees up to her shoulders and thrusting deep, her pussy soft and slick, clutching my thick length in its hot, greedy grip.
She pushes her fingers into my hair and pulls me down for a kiss, a tangle of breath and tongues and teeth that becomes impossible to keep as I begin to thrust. But she holds me close and I tell her every filthy thought I’ve ever had about her, spill in words every drop of cum that my fist ever produced while I was imagining her face, her pussy, her lips, her sweetness, her kiss. I confess every dirty thing I want to do to her now and in the future, every reverent thing, hard and slow and fast and easy, all of it so damn perfect because I want her so bad and because she’ll be with me.
And this time when the orgasm rolls through her, lifting her body beneath mine with her head tilted back on a silent scream, I go over with her, pumping into her clenching depths until there’s nothing left.
Nothing except for another kiss, and the years that stretch ahead of us. I claim her lips a final time, a slow and sweet taste of my beautiful wife, before pulling away. We’re a sweaty tangle of legs and arms, with the remains of her shirt still buttoned around her waist. Her head is at the edge of the ottoman, her ass at the opposite edge, a puddle of cum and juices beneath her—and we aren’t where we started out. The ottoman was sitting in the center of the living room but I fucked it across the floor, and we’re parked now in front of the Christmas tree.
Probably for the best, since Audrey is blissed out and boneless. As often as I’ll be fucking her, I’ll need to add more naps to the schedule.
But there’s something else on the schedule next. After finding my pajama pants, I use her ruined shirt to mop up her inner thighs and the leather beneath her. All she’s wearing now is one fuzzy sock—I find the other beneath the couch and slip it over her ridiculously dainty foot. Then I spread her legs, because I want to kiss her but don’t want that dreamy smile on her lips to disappear. And it’s an utterly decadent treat to kiss my wife’s creamy pussy beside the Christmas tree, to kiss her slow and deep, and to know her soft sighs of pleasure are just for me.
That dreamy smile is still there when I finish, her eyes glittering with joy and love as she looks down at me. “Merry Christmas, Caleb,” she says softly.
“Merry Christmas, baby.” I rise up over her, swiftly kiss her lips. “Ready to open presents?”
Anticipation lights her face and she nods. “Let me grab a robe and—”
“No need.” I turn toward the tree and root through the stacks of gifts. The clumsily wrapped ones are mine, so they’re easy to find. “I’ve got this for you.”
She’s sitting up on the ottoman now, naked except for those socks and with her legs crisscrossed. Eagerly she takes the gift, her “Thank you,” full of warmth and surprise as she turns the floppy rectangle over in her hands. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
And no lie, I’m a little nervous as she does, because what the fuck do you get a woman like Audrey? If something makes her happy, she buys it. And she could easily buy something like what I’m giving her—she might have a thousand of them in her closet already—but I’m hoping this one will be a little more special.
Her lips part as she carefully peels back the edge of the wrapping paper. “Oh. Oh, Caleb. Is this the red flannel you always wear?”
“Yeah, baby.” Just a regular old flannel that’s been worn and washed many times over. But she told me once it looked so soft, and I’ve caught her petting it a few times.
She brings it to her face and inhales, her eyes closing. “It smells like you, too.” All at once she’s unfolding it, slipping her arms into the sleeves. Her eyes are shining with tears as she looks at me. “Thank you so much. I love your gift. It’s the best thing I’ve ever received. You’re so sweet and wonderful to me.”
“It’s just a shirt, baby,” I tell her, all fucking choked up, because I know she truly means all that and I didn’t really expect more than maybe a pleased smile and for her to wear it right away. But she shakes her head, so I shut up and hold out my second gift. “Here’s the other thing.”
Just a small box, so I’m guessing she thinks that it’s jewelry. And it is a ring, I suppose. Not for her to wear, though.
With a soft gasp, she pulls out the key ring. “Is this…?”
“To the Corvette? Yeah.”
“But you said—”
“I told you I wasn’t going to take money for it. And it might be a while before you can actually drive it anywhere, because I’ve still got a lot of work to do before it’s ready. But maybe there’ll be more robot cars around by then, anyway.”
With a laugh, she rocks forward and kisses me. “I love it. Thank you. And this just gives me even more reason to invest in self-driving car technology. Now it’s my turn!”
Clambering off the ottoman, she snags a thin present wrapped in gold paper. “The first!”
I take it, eyeing the other gifts. “Are these all…?”
“Wedding gifts.” Smiling, she plops down on the leather again. “We can open them over the course of the week instead of today.”
“Sounds good.” I tear open the gold paper—and find a manila envelope. “What’s this?”
“Open it.” She looks almost nervous, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as I open the envelope. “I know you don’t like me to spend money on you, and this isn’t really spending money, but something I wanted to set up for you, so that you can spend your money.”
“Baby…” I don’t even know what to fucking say. It’s paperwork to establish a charity—The Nicole Moore Foundation.
“Because I know you intend to give your inheritance away,” she continues softly. “And you can still do that—a one-time donation to whatever charity you like. Or I can help you establish this. Then you put your inheritance into it and let me take care of the investments, and over the years you can give away that same amount many, many times over, and all in your mother’s name.”
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br /> Oh fuck. My eyes are suddenly stinging, my throat clogged with emotion. I swallow hard, putting the paperwork aside and clasping her face in my hands. “I love you so fucking much, Audrey,” I tell her hoarsely. “And, yeah. We’ll do that.”
She smiles, so bright and beautiful. “I’m so glad. We’ll establish the Phoenix House and use that money for so many wonderful things, Caleb. You’ll see.”
“I believe it.” I’ve never believed in anything like I believe in her. “Thank you, baby.”
She kisses me, then pulls back—this time with the impish smile that I know and love so well, the one that says she’s about to do something fun. “And one other thing.”
“I’m ready.” Barely. My emotions are a ragged mess after that last gift.
In her fuzzy socks and flannel shirt, she scoots around the tree and hauls out a gold-wrapped slab—then nearly staggers under the weight. I lunge forward to steady her.
“Oh wow,” she exclaims, laughing and gratefully handing it over to me. “I didn’t realize it would be so heavy.”
She’s not kidding, though it’s more awkward than heavy. When I saw it under the tree, it looked like a painting or something similar—like a big wrapped canvas. But it’s got the heft of solid wood.
Her eyes are sparkling and she claps her hands together, watching as I set it down and start tearing at the wrapping, exposing a smooth slab of oak beneath. “I asked Patrick to make it for me.”
That explains the wood. Though I still can’t figure out what the hell…? Letters are carved into the face of it and—
“Oh shit.” A laugh busts out of me before I even reveal the entire thing.
It’s a sign. A giant business sign, with WYNDHAM TRASH in huge letters.
“I already own a recycling center if you want it!” Audrey exclaims, bouncing up and down in her excitement. “We just have to change the name!”
She really would, too. Laughing, I pull her close and kiss her hard. “No need for that, baby. This sign is enough.”
“You like it?”
“Fucking love it.” I look it over again, my heart so swollen it feels about ready to burst through my chest.