34. Penn

Chapter 34

Penn

W aking up to the sensation of wet warmth engulfing my cock is one hell of a way to start the morning. My mind’s foggy, caught between sleep and consciousness, but there’s no mistaking the delicious friction of Reagan’s mouth working me over. A groggy grin spreads across my face as I open my eyes to the dim light filtering through our bedroom curtains.

“Look at you,” I mumble, voice rough with sleep. “Doing wifey things.”

Reagan doesn’t respond. She just keeps sucking, her tongue swirling around the head of my dick with a skilled precision that makes my back arch involuntarily. Her fingers are exploring lower now, cold and wet as they graze my entrance. A jolt runs through me at the touch.

“Oh, you’re going there, huh?” I whisper, more to myself than anything, pulling my legs back instinctively, giving her better access. My heart’s pounding in my chest. This is new territory for us—hell, for me.

I force myself fully awake and glance down at her. Her dark hair spills over her shoulders as she focuses on me with those intense eyes. The sight alone is enough to drive me wild.

Reagan pulls off me, leaving a trail of spit connecting her lips to my throbbing cock. I groan in protest. “What the fuck?”

She sits up, and that’s when I see it—the same pink vibrating dildo I used on her last night strapped around her waist. Her lips curl into a wicked smile as she strokes the fake cock with one hand and lubes it up with the other.

“Since my fucking husband thinks he’s always in fucking control,” she says, her voice dripping with delicious venom, “I’m about to fuck you and make you my little quivering puddle.”

My eyebrow quirks up in surprise. There’s something undeniably hot about this power shift. Reagan squirts more lube onto her hand and works it onto the cock expertly, then lines it up with my ass before pushing in.

“Fuck,” I gasp, clutching the backs of my knees tighter as she fills me completely.

For a moment, we’re both still. Reagan letting me get used to the feeling while I try to catch my breath as the pain zips through me. Then she begins moving, slowly at first, drawing out each thrust until that pain turns into strange pleasure and morphs into something more intense.

“Goddamn,” I hiss through gritted teeth as she picks up the pace, her hips slapping against mine rhythmically. Every thrust sends waves of sensation rippling through me.

Reagan’s hands grip my thighs hard enough to leave bruises as she pounds into me relentlessly now, turning me into exactly what she promised—a quivering fucking mess under her control. My vision blurs at the edges; all I can do is moan shamelessly with each drag of the cock inside me.

“Look at you. Such a pretty boy, taking my cock so well,” she growls, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she drives into me, the fake dick hitting all the right spots. “My big, strong husband, reduced to a wanton slut. You love this, don’t you?”

I can barely respond; words have become meaningless when all I can focus on is the exquisite torture she’s inflicting. She shifts her angle slightly, and I gasp as the dildo drags over my prostate. White-hot pleasure shoots through me, making me arch off the bed.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she goads, her tone dark and deliciously filthy. “I want you to fucking come for me. Be my good boy and jack your fucking cock.”

I don’t need to be told twice. My hand snakes down to grip my shaft, slick with pre-cum and twitching with each brutal thrust Reagan delivers. I start stroking myself in time with her movements, my free hand still clutching at my knee.

“You like this? Being used by me? Look at you, fucking desperate for it,” she taunts between gritted teeth, her pace punishing and unrelenting. “Stroke that dick faster, baby. Cum all over yourself like the needy little bitch you are.”

Her words ignite something wild in me; I pump my cock furiously now, chasing that peak that’s just out of reach. Every nerve in my body is hyper-aware of each thrust and every filthy word falling from my wife’s lips.

“Fuck!” My shout is half-choked as the pressure inside me builds to an unbearable point. My hips buck upwards involuntarily as Reagan slams into me one last time with devastating precision.

I’m coming undone. Thick ropes of cum spurt across my stomach and chest, painting me in white streaks that blend with the rivulets of sweat already there. My entire body trembles uncontrollably under the waves of pleasure coursing through me.

Reagan doesn’t stop immediately; she keeps moving until I’m entirely wrung out, every last drop milked from me as I writhe beneath her. Only then does she slow down, eventually pulling out and sitting back on her heels to survey the mess she’s made of me.

“Good boy,” she purrs approvingly before reaching out to trace a finger through the cum splattered on my skin. “You did so well for me.”

I’m panting heavily, trying to regain some semblance of composure as the aftershocks still ripple through my body. But even in this wrecked state, I can’t help but feel a twisted sense of pride swelling within me at her words.

Her eyes gleam with a sadistic satisfaction as she leans down, her tongue flicking out to taste the cum on my chest. She licks a slow path up to my neck, collecting every last drop. The sensation is almost too much, each touch of her tongue sending sparks through my nerves, reigniting the lust that had just begun to fade.

My breath catches when she climbs up my body, straddling me and sitting firmly on my stomach. Her weight feels like an anchor tethering me to her. Her face hovers above mine, her eyes locking onto mine as she opens her mouth. A mixture of spit and cum drips from her lips, falling into my open mouth. It’s degrading and intimate all at once, a baptism in our depravity.

I growl low in my throat and swallow, the bitter tang exploding on my tongue. Instinctively, I reach up to grab her hips, desperate to pull her back down to me. But she’s quicker than I am; she rolls off me with grace and lands lightly on her feet beside the bed. The pink dildo bounces almost mockingly at me.

Reagan smirks at me over her shoulder as she saunters toward the bathroom, every step dripping with confidence and purpose. “You owe me breakfast,” she throws back casually, as if we hadn’t just torn each other apart and stitched ourselves together.

I prop myself up on my elbows, still catching my breath as I watch her retreating form. The sway of her hips is hypnotic, and I can’t help but admire the lines of her body.

“Breakfast?” I echo incredulously after finally finding my voice. “Since when did you start demanding room service?”

She pauses in the doorway, turning slightly to cast me a mocking smile. “Since we decided submission looks good on you.” She disappears into the bathroom before I can muster a retort.

I flop back onto the bed with a groan, feeling equal parts spent and restless.

Staring at the ceiling, I can still feel the phantom pressure of that cock inside me.

I pull myself off the bed, my muscles protesting with delicious soreness.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, steam already escaping like a veil of secrets. I push it open fully and stride in; the tiles cool beneath my feet. Reagan stands under the showerhead, water cascading down her body in rivulets that trace every curve before vanishing into the drain. Her strap sitting so innocently on the countertop like it just didn’t wreck my insides so goddamn good.

I step into the shower with her, pulling her back against me until it’s molded to my front.

“You think you can just walk away after making me so goddamn filthy?” My voice is low as I nuzzle into her neck, inhaling the scent of soap and her. “Nuh-uh. You get me dirty; you clean me up.”

“I don’t see any breakfast.” She laughs and I pinch her hip.

“I’ll get you all the fucking breakfast you want after you let me enjoy fucking showering with my wife.”

“Whatever you say, husband.” She’s a goddamn brat and after I feed her, I’m going to have her on her knees screaming my name.