Semua Bab The Taste of Submission: Bab 191 - Bab 198

The ceiling fan above my bed spun lazily, a hypnotic blur of white plastic against the blue of the sky outside my window. I lay there, staring at the swirl of dust motes dancing in the stale air, listening to the rhythmic, guttural sound of my husband's breathing next to me. It was the same sound he made every single night for the last three years. It was a sound of exhaustion, of surrender, and worst of all, of indifference. Three years. Three long, dry, unsatisfying years of Storm. I tried to tell myself it was normal. I tried to be the good wife, the patient one. But beneath the surface, beneath the polite smiles and the whispered "good nights," a fire was dying. A fire that needed fuel, needed intensity, needed a man who knew how to ignite it. I shifted, and the movement made his arm tighten around my waist. He groaned, a low, complaining rumble, and burrowed his face into the crook of my neck. He smelled like Old Spice and stale beer, a combination that used to make me swoon

The only thing I could remember was the slam of the bedroom door and the sudden, sharp click of the lock. It felt pointed, like a needle piercing my resolve. I leaned back against the wood of the door, my chest heaving with ragged breaths. My skirt was twisted so high on my thigh it bunched up at my hips. My skin felt too tight, stretched over the frantic pulse of my veins. Joey’s words kept looping in my head, low and rough, taunting me. I've been real good for a long time, and I'm getting really tired of it. I couldn't breathe right. I couldn't even think. My mind was a complete and utter blank, filled only with the image of him. All I could do was just slide down the door until my ass hit the thick carpet. My knees fell open like they had a mind of their own, giving him an unobstructed view of everything I was doing to myself. I was soaked. Absolutely dripping. The fabric of my panties was clinging to my skin, dark and translucent against my heat. I reached down, my fingers

He didn't stop. He didn't give me a second to breathe. He kept on licking and fingering me through it, drawing it out until I was trembling so hard I thought I would shatter. I tried to crawl away from it, but he held me fast, his arms around my thighs, his tongue merciless. He stood up, spun me around, and lifted me back onto the dresser like I was weightless. The wood hit my lower back, but I didn't care. "Open," he ordered, his voice rough and commanding. I dropped to my knees without even thinking. I was his. I was completely and utterly his. He fed himself into my mouth without hesitation, inch by inch, stretching my lips open, the head pushing against the back of my throat. I choked slightly, tears stinging my eyes, but I took it. I took as much as I could. I moaned around him, hollowing my cheeks, bobbing my head up and down. I was moaning like a pornstar, sloppy and wet, my spit dripping down my chin. He threaded his fingers through my hair, guiding me, fucking my mo

He didn't make me ask twice. He lifted me off the stool like I weighed nothing, spun me around and bent me over. Cold marble hit my nipples through the open shirt. I heard the soft rustle of his sweatpants hitting the floor. Then the thick, blunt head of him knocking my entrance. I reached back, guiding him. One brutal thrust and he bottomed out. Stretching me so wide that I cried out. He didn't give me time to adjust. Just grip my hips and start fucking me, his skin slapping skin so hard. The island rocking with every stroke. "Look at you," he growled, yanking my hair so I had to watch us in the reflection of the dark mirror. "Bent over your marital kitchen counter. Taking my cock like a desperate little slut." I moaned, pushing back to meet him. Every thrust shoved me against the edge, my nipples dragging across the cold marble. "Please," I whispered. "Joey." He pulled out suddenly, spun me again and dropped me to my knees. I opened my mouth eagerly, and he fed himse