Page 47 of Storm

The worst part is he’s doing it on purpose. His latest form of torture is to devour my body painstakingly slowly. Normally, I would give tit for tat. Except my hormones have me raging for a deep, hard pounding, not for playing games.

He currently has me bent over our bed, bump full, as he methodically pulls his annoyingly giant cock in and out of my wailing pussy.

I hate him.

And I hate this.

It’s surely punishment for all of my past aggressions against him.

Especially how he holds up my stomach with one hand while playing with my aching nipples with the other. I could come without him even touching my clit. My inextricable lust for him to go faster is all-encompassing. Mere human thought is no longer something I possess.

Just the words harder and yes.

“Mmmm, my little whore is dripping wet for me.” The asshole is stating the obvious. I growl out my frustration. His accompanying laugh is frustratingly seductive.

“Make me come already.” I grit out the words with unbridled painful desire. His cock pulls from my core. When my brain finally catches up with my body, I know I said the wrong thing.

“Fuck.” I moan, face planting the bed. I don’t care if the bastard is angry. I’m going to rest with my ass in the air until he does something about it. Melek has ten seconds before my fingers do the work for him.

“Holy mother of gods.” I whimper as something hard and slippery makes its way into my ass, followed by Melek pistoning his cock back up into my pussy, jarring me out of my position.

“No god is coming to save you. I’m your only saviour,” he sneers into my ear. My mind is once again a complete and utter mess, like the rest of me. How this man undoes me. A stretching pain fills me that eventually makes way for pleasure when he grasps onto my hips and pounds a steady rhythm, both of my holes filled.

He knew this would shut me up. All I can manage are cries of pure delight, his pace resolute. Over our years together, he has acquired a small collection of glass pleasure—no, torture devices, as I so fondly know them as. I don’t think it’s the “done” thing in most of Halo to have such instruments of pleasure, but he once told me they are from a different time and are very rare. If I told anyone about them, I would be punished for punishment’s sake and not pleasure. Not that anyone would believe me over Commander Perfect. Who would I mention it to? The only people I see are Mary, Melek, and Sunny. The odd times we go further into the city, the “real” people of Halo don’t want a bar of me—a dirty serond, barely chosen by their god, only suitable for breeding.

Running a hand down the inseam of my thigh, I groan at what I know is going to come. He’s still keeping up his steady slapping tempo, however, with both holes filled, if he just flicks my clit, I will topple. The anticipation is leaving me breathless. I’m sure he has noticed my raggedness. If he weren’t so good at making me come, I would’ve stabbed him in the heart a long time ago. Maybe. Butter knife be damned.

I’ve thought about it, though. Plenty of times. Maybe catch him in the shower under false pretences with one of those massive carving knives Mary has in the kitchen. He wouldn’t be a very good commander if he kept his back turned to the enemy—me. I’m usually the one with my back turned to him.

Case in point.

My legs shaking, arms stretched out like jelly before me, my core radiating down all my fraught nerve endings. Pleasure. Glorious, sweet relief is so close.

“Don’t come until I tell you to.” Melek lazily runs his hand up, down, and around my hips, purposely missing the bud screaming for attention at the top.

Is he kidding? I’m on the precipice. Soooo unbelievably close. It’s hard to concentrate like this, so full of him.

“Such a good girl for me,” he adds, his gruff words flooding me with pleasure. Wrong. It’s so wrong. I can’t control how it makes me only wetter for him.

The thought of his cum inside of me spurs me closer to orgasm.

Shifting my head towards the comforter, I bite. This—us—is beyond anything that makes sense to me. How can he elicit this kind of pleasure from touch alone? His hand shifts towards the most sensitive part of me. Finally. I whimper in relief when he makes contact with my clit. My pussy instantly contracts, milking the punishing cock still eagerly pounding inside of me.

“FUCK.” Melek swears behind me. He clamps his hand under my chest, effortlessly pulling my body up to fit snuggly against his front. Gasping, I go with him, our bodies still joined. “What happened to not coming until I tell you, wife?”

I’m speechless. The orgasm to end all orgasms. Top five for sure. My husband has been edging me since he woke me up at some horrific time this morning—so early, the sun hadn’t even risen. His tight hold on me is the only thing keeping me from puddling to the floor.

“Mama?” A soft knock comes from the door. Melek freezes, still inside me from behind.

Mary should have already collected Sunny for breakfast for this exact reason. The walls are barely soundproof, and I am not quiet.

The door rattles. Locks for the win.

“Where’s Mary?” Melek asks, close to my neck, leaving tingles to shoot down my spine. Stop that, body. We are not going for round two. Your child is outside the door.

Gaining some semblance of strength back, I grasp onto his wrist and push. He doesn’t let go. The guy has a serious problem understanding when enough is enough.

“Mama,” the voice comes again, a sad note about it.