Dinner on Friday

4. Dante

I was silent for a long time, processing her request. It wasn't an outrageous one, but did I want to turn her into a killing machine?

One of the things I loved most about Carla was her innocence; how untouched she was by the more sinister things in this world.

She didn't have one evil blood cell coursing through her body. Contrary to that, the world had been evil to her: seeing her father get murdered in front of her when she was seven, her mother abandoning her, witnessing Eduardo's murder, and killing Santiago who then turned out to be the man who had murdered her father.

Maybe she needed this training more than I wanted to admit.

"Dante?"

"It's not a bad idea, baby. I'll teach you."

"Thank you."

"Self-defense only," I said gruffly.

"Of course," she answered sweetly and I watched a slow smile spread across her full lips.

Oh, baby, you're so fucking beautiful when you smile.

I kissed her mouth and her lips instantly parted for me. Her tensed shoulders softened in my arms and I felt the firm peaks of her breast pressing into my chest. My tongue swept the seam of her lips and then dived in to tangle with hers. She tasted like mouthwash and everything nice.

Her hand traced over my shoulder before gliding down my back. I groaned and forced her legs apart until I found her wet cunt. My fingers dipped between the valley of her lips and settled on her throbbing clit. A gentle press followed by circular rubs on her sensitive nub had her shuddering next to me.

Without warning, I sank two fingers inside her. Her heat welcomed the invasion, bathing my fingers with liquid honey.

"My love," she whispered, her need clear in her voice.

"I know, baby, I know."

It was impossible not to get addicted to my wife, especially when her warm walls gripped my fingers and drew them deeper inside her sacred heat. It was impossible not to crave her smart mouth which was perfect for kissing. I kissed her then, pouring my heart into it.

Could she feel and taste how much she meant to me?

I knew the moment I met her that I wanted to own her body. I loved exploring her mind, but I loved fucking her pussy and her mouth more. If I could live in her pussy, I would.

Her body was sheer perfection. That ass, my god.

"Get on top," I said in a husky tone.

I held my cock and watched her as she slowly sat on it, inch after inch disappearing into her wet core.

Clenching my jaw, I reached forward and grabbed her waist. She started moving slowly, sliding up and down my thick length with agonizing precision.

In the low light of the room, I could make out the outline of her breasts bouncing every time she hoisted herself and sat back down on me.

Fuck yeah, my wife was a goddess, her brown skin glistening in the evening light filtering through the curtains and the warm light of the bedside lamp. Right now, more than anything, I needed her to come for me.

I knew she was close. When it came to pleasuring her, I saw everything and missed nothing. I knew when she wanted it harder, faster, or slow and steady. I knew when she wanted to change position. Knew when she couldn't take it anymore.

Currently, she was enjoying herself, coasting the wave to her climax. I let her ride me how she wanted, holding back my pleasure until she shuddered and fell apart in my arms.