Chapter 28

Nothing and I mean nothing, is hotter than seeing the way my cum drips from her glistening pussy. Watching the way our combined arousal leaks out of her and onto her inked thighs is a fucking holy experience and this heathen is still hungry for another taste of the only communion that will satiate his soul.

I raise my palm, flattening my fingers as I drive a harsh smack to her supple bottom. I don't care that she's exhausted or that her body is still reeling from the high we just rode together. I need more and like a determined huntsman I will indulge in one more taste of my prey on my ready tongue.

"Maddox," she whimpers. "I don't think I can come again," she pleads.

Lifting my hand up once more I unleash another strong smack to her bottom, taking in every beautiful moment of the plump flesh of her ass rippling and reddening from my reprimand.

"Yes, you can, and yes, you will," I groan, immediately lowering myself onto my back. "Now, hold still so I can lick my cum off your cunt. You know how much daddy likes to indulge in the taste of us."

Angling my head upward to where she remains on all fours, I extend my tongue, gathering some of the salty release that is smeared on the lips of her pussy. Her hips buck forward as my tongue dips inside her. Flicking the split muscle of my tongue, I begin to crisscross around her center. She squeals the moment my tongue reaches her sensitive clit.

Working with the strokes of my tongue that swirl around her bundle of nerves, she circles her hips, grinding against my face with subtle pressure, but it's not enough. The more our combined arousal dances on my tongue, the more I feel the need to not only taste it but drown myself in it.

I nudge my head back slightly, breaking the seal of my mouth on her pussy, already missing its wet softness.

"All of it," I demand, unintentionally groaning like a caveman.

"What?" she says confused through a breathy pant.

"All of it. I want all your weight on me. You know how I like when you sit on my face," I command and like the good, needy slut she is, my good and needy slut, she obeys, lowering the full weight of her delectable body onto my face, suffocating me.

Writhing against my face, I moan against her pussy, and I can tell she enjoys the way my mouth vibrates against her center by the way she is thrashing at my mouth. A desperate lust filled cry falls from her lips as she rides my face to yet another delicious and wet orgasm.

An abundant and warm stream of arousal pours down on my face.

That's a good little hellcat, I like when you squirt on my face.

"Fuck," she whimpers, ass slowly grinding on my face as she comes down from her back-to-back release.

I station my hands on either side of her hips, savoring every last remnant of her orgasm with her before trailing soft, tender kisses at the apex of her thighs.

"Madness," she swallows hard trying to collect herself to speak. "I'm so wet."

"Oh, I know," I grin, planting one last kiss to her pussy before she rises from where she was just smothering my face.

Like a love-struck puppy I immediately rise to my feet, trailing her as she moves closer to the torn closet door.

"It's beautiful," she breathes, moving past the broken wood planks, to the dress that hangs waiting for her.

I move behind her, trailing my hand down the curve of her spine as she pulls the dress from the hanger.

"What, this mess is beautiful to you?" I teasingly ask but before she can say her usual feisty remark, she turns to me, dress draped over her bent forearm and her glassy stare searing into me.

"This," her voice cracks as her gaze focuses on the delicate, all-black lace now in her possession.

My hand glides to her cheek, before cupping her face in my palm. "I'm glad you like it," I say in an unexpectedly monotone voice. It's not that I'm not excited. Fuck, I mean I've wanted this moment, for her to officially be mine, since I saw her fifteen years ago. I was and am willing to do fucking anything to make sure that every route life takes her in, involved me at her side or behind her, as I've grown accustomed to being. But now staring at the dress that my mother wore the day we buried my dad in the ground, it opens wounds that I so desperately wish time would fucking heal already.

Her weight transfers to her tiptoes, breaking my hold on her. The emotion that just riddled her stare is now intensified by a stream of tears now falling down her cheek. "This is hers, isn't it?" she asks.

My jaw tenses. "Yes, it was. But she wants you to have it now."

It sounds fucked up and to most people, if not all, to have your wife wear the dress your mother wore to grieve on your wedding day. But my mom wore that dress because it was my dad's favorite, he bought it for her when they barely had two nickels to rub together. There's sentiment woven into every thread. Blair wearing it today is like having a piece of my dad with us.

"I'm honored," she replies with a genuine look of peace on her face that makes me want to take her again, on the fucking floor because that look that she's giving me. One that is happy, truthful, calm. It's not a side of her that she lets anyone see, except for me.

Trailing her hand down my chest, her lips part to speak. "What mask are you wearing tonight?"

I grab her hand, guiding it to my cheek. "This one, the one I wear daily, tricking people into thinking I'm something that I'm not."

Her fingers trace the upside-down cross tattoo, an ode to the emblem of the Horror Whores forum, that was the catalyst to Boogeyman luring his Final Girl into his web.

A sly grin spreads on her lips. "Baby, you have such a handsome face, but you know how much I love masks," she pouts her lips.

Oh, I know.Hence the absurd collection that occupies the wall adjacent to where we currently stand. Gotta love Spirit Halloween, it's the equivalent to a sex shop for us.

Lowering my head, I take hold of her bottom lip, nibbling it with my teeth, causing her to chuckle. "Don't worry, your monster isn't going anywhere, and neither is that."

She casts her gaze down to meet where mine is nudged in the direction of the lingering cum that drips from her center.

A grunt rumbles from my throat, drawing her attention back to me. "There will be hell to pay if you clean up. I want to make sure I can still smell the cum dripping down my wife's legs when we say I do."