19: CUCKOLD LITTLE SLUT (1)

CHAPTER 1: HE FINGERS MY MARRIED PUSSY

LENA’S POV

Let’s get one thing straight—I wasn’t some lost little lamb in that bar. I was a wolf in a little black dress, and I was fucking hunting.

The bar was dim, the kind of place where the air smelled like whiskey and bad, bad decisions. Neon signs flickered behind the bottles, casting a sultry glow over the polished mahogany.

Perched on my stool, I made sure my dress was riding high enough to show the lace tops of my stockings.

My fingers traced the rim of my martini glass, the ice clinking softly as I swirled the liquid. My stiletto was hooked on the rung, swinging just enough to draw the eye.

And then he walked in.

Jesus Christ. He was a giant. A god carved from obsidian. Tall enough to block the door, with shoulders so broad I instantly imagined them pinning me down.

A fitted black button-down stretched over his chest, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms thick with muscle.

His skin was a deep, rich ebony, his bald head gleamed under the grimy neon, and his eyes—dark, intense, and knowing—scanned the room before landing on me.

I met his gaze and let a slow, filthy smirk spread across my lips. Come and get it.

He didn’t hesitate. Three long strides and he was beside me, his cologne, something warm and spiced, hit me.

“That seat taken?” His voice was a bass rumble I felt deep in my cunt.

I made a show of glancing at the empty stool, then dragged my eyes back down the impressive bulge in his slacks. “Depends. You planning on being interesting?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Baby, I don’t do boring.”

I laughed, a low, throaty sound, and deliberately uncrossed and re-crossed my legs, giving him a flash of bare thigh. His eyes followed the movement, darkening with feral hunger.

“Damon,” he said, his hand enveloping mine. It was rough, calloused, and it swallowed my whole hand.

“Lena.”

“Lena,” he repeated, like he was tasting the name. “You always sit alone in bars, or am I just lucky?”

“Maybe I was waiting for someone worth my time.”I took a slow sip, my eyes locked on his over the rim of the glass.

He leaned in, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body.

“And what makes a man worth your time, Lena?”

I set my glass down, letting my fingers linger on the stem before dragging them up my thigh, watching his gaze follow the movement.

“Confidence. A man who knows what he wants.” I leaned in too, our lips almost brushing. “A man who isn’t afraid to take it.”

Damon’s breath hitched, just for a second. Then his hand was on my knee, his thumb tracing slow circles over the inside of my thigh.

“What if I told you I’ve been imagining bending you over this bar since I walked in?” His voice was rough now, deeper. “What if I told you I’ve been thinking about how that pretty, pink mouth would look stretched around my big, black cock?”

A shiver ran down my spine. I parted my lips, letting my tongue dart out to wet them.

“Then I’d say you’ve got a filthy mind, Damon.”

“And you’d be right.” His fingers inched higher, burning through the fabric, his thumb pressing directly against my clit through my panties. I jerked, a gasp escaping me. “Tell me, Lena. You got a man waiting for you at home?”

I should’ve lied. Should’ve played coy. But the pressure of his thumb, circling just right, had me spilling the truth.

“I do.”

His eyes darkened. “He know you’re out here, looking like that?”

I bit my lip, my hips rocking minutely against his hand.

“He encourages it.”

Damon’s grip tightened, his fingers digging in possessively.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re a hotwife. You’re his perfect little slut, sent out to get filled by better cocks.”

I didn’t answer. I just moaned, my pussy clenching around nothing, so wet I was dizzy with it.

“You let other men taste this sweet pussy?” he growled, his lips against my ear, his breath hot. “Let them pump their cum deep inside you while your husband watches?”

“Yes,” I whimpered.

“Yes, what?” he demanded, his thumb pressing harder.

“Yes, I let them fuck me!” I gasped, my voice rising. A few curious eyes turned to me, which only elicited a dark chuckle from this perfect stranger.

“And tonight, Lena?You gonna let me be the one? You gonna let me split you open on my cock?”

I turned my head, our lips a breath apart. My heart was a hammer against my ribs.

“Are you gonna make me scream?”

He didn’t answer with words. His mouth crashed onto mine, his tongue forcing its way past my lips, devouring me.

I moaned into him, my hands flying to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt. He tasted like sin—whiskey and mint and pure, unadulterated masculinity.

His hand slid all the way up my thigh, his fingers hooking into the lace of my panties and yanking them aside.

I cried out as two thick fingers plunged inside me, curling instantly to find that perfect, aching spot, not minding the few wide-eyed watchers in the bar.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned against my mouth, his fingers pumping. “You’re dripping. Soaking my fucking hand. And I’ve barely even started.”

“Then stop talking and fuck me with them,” I demanded, my nails digging into his shoulders.

He let out a dark laugh, adding a third finger, stretching me, preparing me.

“Such a greedy girl. Is this what you needed? A real man’s hand to stuff you full?”

“Yes! God, yes!” My hips bucked, riding his hand right there in the open. I didn’t care who saw.

The three fingers hit that spot that made my back arch. I cried out, my hips bucking against his hand.

The bar, the people, the world—it all faded away.

There was only Damon’s fingers, his mouth on mine, his low, dirty words spilling into my ear.

“Bet your husband’s cock ain’t half as thick as my fingers.”His thumb found my clit, circling it in slow, maddening strokes.

I whimpered, my pussy clenching around his fingers. “God, yes.

Then suddenly, he pulled his soaking fingers out and brought them to my lips.

“Suck. Taste how fucking wet you are for me.”

I opened my mouth without hesitation, sucking my own juices from his thick fingers, my eyes rolling back at the taste.

“Christ,” he growled, watching me. “This mouth is mine tonight. This pussy is mine.”He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “Want me to fuck you right here? Bend you over this bar and let everyone see what a dirty girl you are?”

I should’ve been embarrassed. Should’ve been scandalized. But the thought of it—of being taken, used, in front of strangers—had me so close to the edge I could taste it.

“Please,” I begged.

Damon’s lips curled into a wicked grin. He pulled his fingers out of my lips, his tongue flicked out, sucking them, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Mmm. Sweet.” He stood abruptly, his hand gripping mine. “Now, we’re leaving. I’m not fucking you in a bar.”

He pulled me off the stool. My legs were jelly. I followed him out, a slave to the promise in his eyes. The cool air did nothing. I was burning up from the inside.