Immediately, I felt his hand on my breast, quickly followed by the sound of ripping fabric. I shivered slightly as the cool air touched my exposed skin. He released his hold on me, letting me fall back onto the bed.
His lips eagerly sought my exposed breast, kissing and licking every inch. I whimpered softly as his teeth gently scraped against my nipple. As he took it into his mouth and began sucking, I felt his hand against my other breast, followed by the same ripping sound. He slipped his hand underneath the ripped fabric, pinching my nipple teasingly between his fingers.
The entire time he kept rubbing his hard, covered member against my sweet spot. After everything we just did, I would have thought that I'd be too sensitive for him to touch me there. But, to my great surprise, I wasn't. Instead, the opposite was true. Every little rub and grind excited and frustrated my body just as much as if he'd never touched me at all.
Thankfully, he seemed to be at his limit too. He pulled away from me and reached down, grabbing the lace between my legs. My heart fluttered as I, again, heard the distinctive ripping sound.
He smiled down at the sight, sliding off his soaked boxers. His hard member eagerly jumped out to greet me.
Somehow, it seemed even bigger in person than it had from my window. I couldn't tell if it was because of the distance or if he was just extra hard today, but either way, it made for quite the presentation. I reached out, brushing my fingers along the shaft gently. He let out a small grunt of pleasure.
"Oh, is it time for lunch already?" I teased.
A pained and conflicted look came over his face. He seemed to be arguing with himself internally about something. Eventually, one seemed to win out over the other. And he didn't look happy with the result.
He let out a heavy sigh. He smiled, but I could see the pain and regret in his eyes as he did.
"I want to. Trust me, God, I want to. Unfortunately, I think we'd better not," he explained reluctantly. "I'm already way past my breaking point and I guarantee if those soft, pouty lips of yours come anywhere near me, I'm going to lose my shit."
I pouted exaggeratedly. "What, you're just going to leave me hungry?"
Again, I saw that familiar, mischievous flash in his eyes. He leaned forward, pressing his hard member against my lower lips. My entire body shivered as if electrocuted, a small gasp of excitement escaped my mouth.
Right there. He was right there. All he had to do was press forward a little and he'd be inside of me. The thrill of that knowledge had my every last nerve and cell on edge as I eagerly waited for him to continue.
But he didn't. Like a true bastard, all he did was rub against me gently with a wicked smile on his face. I glared at him, horny and frustrated.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure you're 'stuffed' in another way," he chuckled. "And since I'm such a gentleman, lady's choice on the 'stuffing' method. Any preferences?"
As much as the sarcastic bitch in me wanted to tell him to go "stuff" himself, I actually did have a preference in mind. Nothing crazy. Hell, most people would probably even call it vanilla. But, damn, I really wanted him to fuck me that way.
I smiled and reached over to shove him away lightly. He took a couple steps back, curiosity in his eyes as he watched me.
I rolled over onto my stomach, teasing him with a few suggestive poses before bringing my knees onto the bed. I leaned down, resting my bare breasts against the sheets as I lifted my ass into the air.
I heard a soft chuckle behind me. "Doggy style? I have to say, I expected something a little wilder coming from you."
He wasn't exactly wrong. I knew it was a pretty basic position compared to a lot of others, but it was one I loved. More specifically, it was one my body loved.
For whatever reason, it hit all my spots in exactly the right ways and the end result was always a body-shaking, knee-buckling orgasm. Usually, multiple.
Unfortunately, I hadn't had that in a very long time.
In the beginning of our sexual relationship, Phil didn't mind so much, although he did make it known that the position wasn't one of his personal favorites. So, out of consideration for my partner, we started to use it less often. Then, when we got married, we used it even less often.
After a long ass time of not doing it, and our sex life getting a little dry and unsatisfying on my end as a result, I tried to bring up doing it again. And was immediately shot down.
Phil started into this huge rant of excuses. Him doing all the work, his legs hurting, he didn't get off on it the same way I did, yada yada yada. However, when I tried pressing the issue, that's when the truth came out.
Apparently, as his wife, I shouldn't be so excited to be "bent over like a whore." It was, in his words, "embarrassing and disgraceful." I should be "more class, less crass" in the bedroom.
I actually remember laughing out loud when he told me because of how ridiculous it sounded. I mean, it wasn't like I was asking him to string me up from the ceiling and paddle my ass or anything. It was doggy style. One of the top three basic positions that everybody does during sex. Everybody except Phil apparently.
Of course, laughing like that only pissed him off, but at the time, I was still trying to be his "good little housewife." So, I ducked my head, apologized, and told him that I understood and would try harder in the future to be a good wife.
Just looking back on it to this day still makes me want to vomit. However, I do take a small solace in the fact that he screwed himself over more with that stupid hangup than he did me.
Unsurprisingly, with minimal foreplay and no real focus put on my pleasure during sex, I lost interest in having it. Eventually, I came to the not-so-startling realization that I could actually get off better on my own than I could with Phil. Our sex life fizzled from there.
Now, I avoided it as much as possible, only giving in when it was absolutely necessary or too much of a headache to make excuses for. And even when I did, the sex was always the same: dull, dry, and unsatisfying. A burden instead of a pleasure.
But with Mason? It was like I was discovering sex all over again. I wanted to do everything with him. I wanted to feel and experience everything he had to offer. I wanted him to take me and break me in ways I could only dream of. I wanted him to tease, and touch, and fuck me until I was nothing but a quivering puddle of pleasure in his hands.
And I knew that this was a surefire way to do it.
I reached between my legs to rub my sweet spot. "Instead of talking, why don't you come over here and 'stuff me' like you said you would? I'll show you exactly how 'wild' I can get."
I expected some kind of retort, but he kept silent. I wasn't even sure if he had moved until I suddenly felt his hands on my waist. Without a word, he pressed his hard member against my lower lips and pushed his way inside of me.
I couldn't even remember the last time I'd been fucked. Really fucked. When there was something inside of me that actually satiated the ever-growing ache of emptiness between my legs. It was intoxicating.
To say I felt electrified was an understatement. My entire body shivered and convulsed as he filled me completely, his hips pressing firmly against my thighs. He hissed slightly.
"Hey, hey, easy on the squeezing," he warned playfully. "I told you, I'm barely hanging on as is. Not sure about you, but I'd like this to last longer than thirty seconds."
"Sorry," I murmured dreamily.
He let out an exaggerated huff, grinding his hips against me. A small moan of satisfaction left my lips as I felt his member rubbing inside of me.
"Damn, you really are sensitive in this position, huh?" He commented more to himself than to me.
I bit my lip and nodded, my cheeks hot with shame and excitement. He pulled out slightly, maybe just an inch or two, before pressing inside me again. Softly, slowly, frustratingly. I whimpered pathetically as he continued to tease me this way, my body screaming for more.
I tried backing my hips into him, but he tightened his grip on my waist, stopping me from moving. He reached his hand between my legs, teasing my sweet spot.
The sensation was indescribable. If I wanted him to make me a quivering mess, then I sure as hell was getting my wish now.
I'd never felt this desperate during sex before. This wild, animalistic, desire to be fucked, and used, and absolutely ruined by him. And the ever-growing frustration with every second that he wasn't.
Then without warning, he pulled out of me again. I whimpered pathetically as the aching emptiness quickly rushed to the place where he once was. I was about to beg him to put it back in when he suddenly thrust into me again, burying himself to the hilt inside of me.
A moan of relief and pleasure exited my lips as my body again shivered at the sudden sensation.
Seems like I wasn't the only one getting impatient with all of this teasing. His thrusts quickly started to pick up speed. I buried my face in the sheets to help muffle the moans that kept spilling out of me.
That didn't work long though. His hand reached around to cover my neck, lifting my head as he did so.
"Hey, it's bad enough I can't see your face like this. Now, you're not going to let me hear your voice either?" He asked teasingly, tightening his grip. "Come on. Where's that wild girl you promised me I'd see?"
It was like everything he did was only to help awaken a new desire within me. I'd never been a fan of anything "rough" during sex before, but as I felt his hand tighten around my throat it brought out feelings in me that I never thought myself capable of.
I pressed my hips back, tightening myself around him. He let out a small grunt of pleasure as I did.
"Fuck me faster," I ordered, grinding against him.
Luckily, he didn't seem to be the kind of guy who minded being bossed around a bit in the bedroom. As requested, the speed of his thrusts increased. And so did my pleasure.
I reached between my legs, rubbing my sweet spot. A thrill ran through me as I could feel his hard member thrusting in and out of me. An uncontrollable shiver ran through my body as he leaned forward and trailed his tongue along the back of my neck.
I was in a sea of passion. Weightless, floating, without anything to anchor me back to reality. Waves of ecstasy roared higher and higher, battering my body from the inside out. I tried to fight against them, but each new thrust only weakened my ever-dwindling willpower more and more. Soon, there was nothing left to give. Breathless, weak, and desperate for relief, I surrendered my body to the roaring waves of pleasure.
The edges of my vision went hazy and white. The room was filled with the sounds of moans and splashes as he continued to ram himself into me again and again against the waterfall of lust spilling out of me.
His hand released my throat suddenly, grabbing onto my hips. A low moan filled the air as he pressed himself deeper. His nails dug into my skin as his hard member throbbed inside of me.
The sound of our panting filled the empty air. His arms wrapped around my waist in a gentle embrace as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against my bare back between labored breaths.
Without a word, he shifted us onto the bed. While my body was grateful for the chance to lay down after all that, I was a little shocked by the position he chose. On our sides, my back pressed tightly against his chest.
He was spooning me.
I couldn't help but let out a small giggle at the realization. I felt his fingers tug at my hair gently. His voice had a playful tone to it as he spoke.
"What? Something funny?"
"Guess I just didn't expect you to be the cuddly type after sex," I teased.
"I've never exactly been a 'roll over and fall asleep after' kind of guy," he explained, shrugging vaguely. "Why? That a problem?"
He gave me a small squeeze. A smile made its way to my lips. I shook my head before leaning back to rest it against his chest.
No. It wasn't a problem at all. For too many years now, I'd been married to the "roll over and fall asleep after" kind of guy. I guess, over time, I accepted that fact. Maybe even tried to convince myself that it was normal. "Just how things were." A disappointment, but ultimately, something I had to learn to live with. Just like every other shitty thing about Phil.
But not with Mason.
With him, I didn't need to pretend. I didn't need to bite my tongue or duck my head just to keep him happy. With him, I could be myself. Wholly, completely, and unapologetically myself. And I couldn't remember the last time I had really been able to do that with somebody.
I knew that it couldn't last forever. That in a few short hours I'd have to go back to being "Mrs. Henderson" again. But for now, I was here. Tenderly wrapped in the arms of a man who wanted me exactly as I was. Warm and safe in a place where no one else could reach. A place that was only for us.