The kiss was no doubt his way of showing dominance; otherwise, why else would my lips sting when we came up for air, why did my pussy weep even more than before, and why was I not able to breathe quite the same? I’d barely caught my breath when he dove right back in, only this time he trailed a finger down my spine, which made me tingle but not as much as when he dipped that finger into my tight ass.
I went nuts, or my pussy did. Sensation overload caused my moves to become frantic, and I was afraid I might hurt us both with my erratic movements, but all that happened was his cock jumped and pulsed in me as my pussy squeezed and released around his cock as I came and came to my little heart’s content.
Good, he was no longer upset because he’d let me cum. “Hop off.”
“Huh?” Usually, he lets me take a breather after I’ve cum like that, but he’s never made me stop just like that. Oh, I know, he’s ready for his absolute favorite position. I almost smirked as he helped pull me off his dick, I was about to get into position on my hands and knees when he moved, but once he got down off the bed, he just kept walking.
I don’t know how to explain how I felt when I looked over my shoulder to see him walking away, and the room was so silent I heard the lock click on the bathroom door all the way on the other side of the suite. The sound reverberated through the sudden emptiness in my chest, and my heart hurt so bad for a moment I thought I was about to die. He didn’t cum, and he’d locked the door against me.
I climbed down off the bed and ran down the hallway just to try the door. Maybe I’d heard something else, but no, he’d locked me out.
GARRICK
She must’ve lost her damn mind. The damn jeans were painted on her ass. That’s how tight they were. I’d bought them that way because when I saw the model who was right about her size as I’d ordered in them, I knew my woman would like ten times better in them and could not wait.
I also know that the only way she was wearing that shit outside was if her ass was covered by one of my shirts or sweaters or a jacket that came down to her thighs. Ever since she changed the innocent-looking belly ring to the more sexy and alluring one that draws the eye, she’s been showing her tummy to me more and more, which I, of course, enjoy.
That’s why I know that seeing that shit swinging and hovering just inches above her pussy gives me ideas, and my eyes always end up roaming to that deep V between her thighs, imagining my cock slamming into her as her jewelry swung and jingled like Xmas bells. And that’s exactly what I expect every other man who sees it to think. Fuck no!
You see, the thing with my darling wife is that she has yet to realize the difference between our relationship in the past and the one we have now. I was lenient with my ward because she was a child; even when she grew up and went away to college, she was still that child, just more mature and a little bit fuller in places.
I didn’t come down on her too hard because she didn’t have a good beginning, and I see now that I’d spoiled her. But there’s a huge difference now that she’s my wife, and since I don’t like arguing and have no plans on starting now, I figure it's best to nip that shit in the bud before she gets her ass in trouble. She got off light today but knowing her, she’d be stressing until I relent and stop being annoyed with her, which I don’t plan on doing anytime soon.
I switched the water off and spent more time in the bathroom than needed because my dick was still hard as fuck even after my shower. I refused to rub one out; I just wasn’t in the mood. As I stood in the mirror looking at myself, I wondered why I got so mad at her.
Sure she tried testing me, but usually, I’d have been calm enough to walk her through it, to explain why she wasn’t ever going outside like that, showcasing my property to all and sundry. If she’d gone out there in her tit revealing bullshit, she might’ve caused a damn riot.
But today, I was not in the mood to repeat myself, and she shouldn’t want to share that with anyone else but me. The truth is, this is new territory for me. I’ve never given a shit how any of the women I went out with dressed. I can’t even tell you what style of dress any of them wore, and I damn sure never went shopping for any of them.