Forbidden: Craving My Mother's Husband

The air in the room feels heavy, thick with a scent that is uniquely him—sandalwood and something darker, muskier. I don’t have time to process it before Tristan is there, crowding my space, his presence overwhelming. His voice drops an octave, vibrating through my chest before he even touches me.

"I warned you, Anna," he growls, the sound scraping against my nerves.

His hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my throat with a possessiveness that steals the breath from my lungs. He shoves me backward, and my shoulders slam against the wall. The impact jars me, but I don’t fight it. I surrender instantly, melting into the rough plaster as he steps between my thighs. This is where I belong. This is how a daddy takes care of his baby girl.

He crashes his mouth against mine, devouring me. It isn’t a kiss; it’s a conquest. His tongue sweeps in, claiming every inch of my mouth, tasting and dominating. His grip on my neck tightens just enough to make my head spin, sending a rush of heat straight to my core. His hands roam desperately, one clutching my neck choking me, the other grabbing my ass. He squeeze hard, feeling the softness beneath, pulling me tighter against him. He grinds his hips forward, letting me feel the heavy outline of his erection through the fabric, rubbing his clothed cock against my stomach.

"Kneel," he commands, breaking the kiss and leaving me gasping.

My legs hit the floor before I even make the conscious decision to move. I look up at him, wide-eyed and obedient. He reaches for his belt, the leather hissing as he slides it free from the loops. He doubles it over, then wraps the strap around my neck. The buckle is cold against my skin, but the leather is warm from his body. He pulls it taut, not enough to cut off air, but enough to remind me who owns me. The pressure is intoxicating, a collar made of his own clothing.

He unzips his fly, the sound loud in the quiet room. When he frees himself, his cock springs out. It’s massive—eight inches of thick, throbbing flesh, the head flushed dark and angry. A bead of precum glistens at the tip. My mouth waters instantly. I stare at it, mesmerized by the vein pulsing along the side, the sheer weight of it in his hand.

"Look at you," Tristan murmurs, his voice dripping with lust. "You’re starving for it, aren’t you? Such a greedy little girl."

He tugs on the belt, using it like a leash to urge me forward. "Be a good girl and suck me off."

I lean in, parting my lips as wide as I can. I stretch my jaw, trying to accommodate his girth. The head of his dick pushes past my lips, hot and velvety against my tongue. I have to breathe through my nose, focusing on relaxing my throat to take him deeper. I grasp the base with one hand, stroking what I can’t fit, and hollow my cheeks. I moan around his shaft, the vibration making him hiss.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hand tightening in my hair. "Take it all. Just like that."

I bob my head, sliding my tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the salt of his skin. I feel the leather strap digging into my neck every time he pulls me closer, forcing him deeper into my throat. My eyes water, but I don’t stop. I love the feeling of being used, of my mouth being nothing but a hole for his pleasure.

Suddenly, a sharp ringtone cuts through the air. Tristan groans in frustration, his hips stilling for a split second. He doesn’t pull out, though. He reaches into his pocket with his free hand, checking the screen. I glance up; the name "Valeria" flashes on the display. My mother.

He looks down at me, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. He shushes me, placing a finger over his mouth, then taps the button to answer.

"Hello?" he says, his voice remarkably steady.

I freeze, his cock still filling my mouth. He holds the belt leash in one hand, the phone in the other. He doesn’t stop me. Instead, he thrusts his hips slightly, pushing deeper, choking me silently. I whimper, the sound muffled by his thickness.

"Hey, honey," Valeria’s voice chirps through the speaker. "Just calling to check in. I’m at the mall and I found this gorgeous dress for the gala next week, but I’m a bit short on cash. Could you transfer some money to my account?"

Tristan watches me, his eyes dark and burning as he slowly fucks my face while talking to my mother. "Of course, Val. How much do you need?"

"About five hundred should cover it," she says. "Oh, is Anastasia there? Put her on, I want to ask her about shoes."

Tristan pulls his cock from my mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva connects my lips to his tip. I gasp for air, my face flushed, my neck marked by the belt. He grabs my arm and hauls me up, tossing me onto the king-size bed. I bounce on the mattress, breathless and dazed.

He hands me the phone. "Try not to make sound babygirl," he whispers, his voice rough.

I take the phone with a trembling hand. "H-hey, Mom," I stammer.

Tristan doesn’t give me a moment to compose myself. He flips up my tennis skirt, exposing my white lace panties. He hooks his finger in the fabric and yanks it aside, baring my dripping wet pussy. He positions himself between my legs, the head of his cock nudging at my entrance.

"So, about the shoes," Valeria says, oblivious. "I was thinking silver heels, or maybe the black strappy ones we saw last week?"

Tristan pushes forward, sinking his thick length into me inch by inch. I bite my lip hard to suppress a moan, my back arching off the bed. He fills me completely, stretching me tight. It feels so good, so wrong, my body clenching around him while I listen to my mother talk about shopping.

"The... the black ones," I manage to choke out, my voice pitching high as Tristan bottoms out. "They’re... better."

Tristan starts to thrust, slow and deep. He leans over me, bracing himself on one hand, watching my face contort with pleasure. "You like that?" he mouths silently, picking up the rhythm.

"Are you okay, Anna? You sound out of breath," Valeria asks.

"I’m fine," I gasp, gripping the sheets. "Just... exercising."

Tristan smirks and angles his hips, hitting that spot inside me that makes my vision blur. He drives into me harder, the bed creaking beneath us. The friction is electric, sending sparks shooting up my spine.

"Mom, I have to go," I say quickly, the pressure building to an unbearable peak. "Someone’s at the door."

"Okay, love you! Tell Tristan to send that money!"

"Love you too. Bye." I jab the end call button and drop the phone.

"Oh god, Tristan!" I cry out, finally releasing the moan I’ve been holding back.

"That’s it," he growls, picking up the pace. He pounds into me relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "Let me hear you."

He grabs my legs, wrapping them around his waist, and flips us over so I’m on top. He sits up, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his cock below. I ride him, grinding my hips down, taking him as deep as possible. His hands grip my ass, guiding me, urging me faster.

"You feel so fucking good," he breathes against my lips. "So tight and wet for me."

"Tristan, I’m close," I whimper, digging my nails into his shoulders.

"Cum for me, baby girl. Cum all over my dick."

He thrusts up hard, hitting my g-spot perfectly. The tension snaps, and I explode, my pussy clamping down on him as waves of pleasure crash over me. I cry out his name, burying my face in his neck. A moment later, he groans deep in his chest, his cock pulsing as he fills me with his hot cum.

We stay there for a moment, tangled together, our breathing ragged. The room is silent except for the sound of our hearts slowing down. But as the haze of orgasm fades, the reality of the phone call settles back in, heavy and suffocating. I pull back to look at him, and the tension in his eyes matches mine. We are playing a dangerous game, and neither of us is ready to stop.