The world shifted on its axis and I knew I would never be the same again.
As we basked in the afterglow of such a powerful mutual release, my wife absentmindedly traced the tattoos on my arm, her finger landing particularly on the king card. In her own way, she told me what we both already knew.
From the minute I’d met her, she’d already conquered me.
I pulled out of her and Darla gasped at the loss of me. “Shh.” I rubbed a hand over her stomach in a soothing circle. “Stai bene?”
“I still need to polish my Italian skills, Zeno. You’re going to have to translate that.”
Her pussy game was so strong, it had me switching languages. “Are you okay?”
“Oui.” Her eyes were closed and her head rested against my shoulder like she was content to stay in this position, with my arms wrapped around her, until the end of time. “I am okay.”
“My cum looks beautiful running down your thighs, pet.”
Her fingers braided in my hair and angled my face towards her. That wicked glint in her hazy eyes was trouble. “Push it back inside of me,” she murmured. “I need to give you an heir,mon amour.”
I’d never been speechless in my life.
Until now.
She was on birth control, but the fact that she was playing into my newfound breeding kink was another testament that this woman was created for me.
Darla guided my hand down to her pussy and bit my lip. “Push it inside of me, Zeno.”
Stunned and so fucking turned on, my fingers scooped the cum trickling out of her entrance and gently shoved it back in with three fingers. She moaned when I fingered her gently. “To think that you were a sweet virgin when we met.”
“You love me hellish.”
“And I wouldn’t have you any other way, wife.”
“Do you have a foot fetish?”
Quirking an eyebrow, I continued massaging Darla’s feet with lotion. “Where is this coming from?”
“I caught you in my room all those months ago putting socks on my feet.”
“Because your feet were cold.”
“So…you don’t have a foot fetish?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“I have ayoufetish.”
I finished rubbing ointment everywhere I spanked her. Now she lay on her side, facing the fireplace, while I rubbed her tired soles. “Are you one of those men who like to suck toes?”
Quite frankly, I’d suck on anything of hers.
“You do have cute toes.” I grinned wolfishly and pretended to bite her big toe.
She giggled in that lazy, closed-mouthed way of hers and attempted to mock-kick me. “No, Zeno!”
“But you love it when I bite you.” I crawled over her and snapped my teeth like I was going for her jugular. She jokingly squealed, batting me away before I gathered her into my arms. “Don’t you?”
“You animal.” She attempted to elbow me and I laughed.
Then my jaw was squeezed and Darla planted a row of tiny pecks over my mouth. Because she loved my laugh. Because she wanted to bottle it up forever. It was perhaps the most tender thing about my wife. That and how she sometimes liked to be the big spoon when we slept.
“Yet you still love me.” Despite the fact that I wasn’t a good man.