Page 29 of Forsaking All Others

The words were coarse but not foreign. I had spent many nights watching porn and reading erotica to ease my sexual frustration and loneliness. Hearing the same filth from my husband’s mouth was uniquely arousing.

“You don’t even need me to prep this tight pussy, do you?” He continued to practically purr, his gaze hot against me as he tracked his finger tracing my entrance, dipping just inside and then out again, the wet sounds almost shameful. “You’re dripping down my wrist. My principessa is desperate to be filled up with a nice thick cock, aren’t you?”

An inarticulate sound emerged from my throat as my hips chased his teasing fingers.

I gasped as Dario bit into my inner thigh in reprimand. “Answer your husband.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want to be filled up with a nice thick cock,” I practically slurred as Dario’s thumb found my clit and swirled little circles around it.

“My cock,” he clarified.

“Yours,” I agreed, past the point of inhibitions. “Merda, Dario, please.”

“Che bella bambolina che sei,” he praised in my native tongue. “Beg for me.”

That’s a good little doll.

It should have been condescending, but instead it made the flame licking around my hips and groin blaze higher.

“Merda, Dario, make me come, please,” I insisted, fisting his hair tightly to grind his mouth into my cunt.

His chuckle was a warm exhale against my wet skin, but he applied himself to eating me.

Devouring me.

Sucking at my clit in long, firm pulls. Lapping up the wet leaking from my entrance and down the length of one thigh. When he decided the angle wasn’t right, he lifted my leg and planted my high heel on his shoulder, so I was open to him. Open for his fingers to press inside me, one and then another, which he curled into my front wall like he was beckoning me closer.

I shook, hardly able to stand, aware of the closet door’s slight rattle as I shuddered against it, the echo of it and my babbling noises of pleasure loud in the two-story foyer.

Loud in the too-silent house.

“Come on my tongue, and I’ll fill you up just like you need,” Dario promised, and it was almost enough to send me over the edge.

But not quite.

I whined, needing something sharp to pierce the boundaries of my pleasure and send it spilling through me like a broken dam.

And my husband, for all that he was mostly a stranger, seemed able to read my body much more than he had ever been able to read my mind.

Because a moment later, he added a third finger to the hard drive of his thrusts into my greedy entrance and then used his other hand to slap sharply at my swollen, throbbing clit.

I broke apart like a vase shattered on the marble floor, pieces of me seeming to crack open and spiral away out of my control. My head was empty for the bright, hot white pleasure of the climax, my instinct only to pin Dario’s face against my pussy so I could grind every last drop of ecstasy out of his clever tongue and pistoning fingers.

I was still seeing colorful pinwheels of light dance across my vision when he took his fingers from me, leaving my sex aching and clutching at nothing. A protest welled up like blood on my tongue, but I didn’t get a chance to voice it because Dario was suddenly standing, turning me around and shoving me against the wall so my cheek was plastered to the aged mirror door. His hands gripped my hips, canting them back and up before flipping my skirt over my ass and wrenching my soaked panties down my legs so that they pooled at my high heels.

I shuddered out a long sigh as his coarse hands moved over the plump globes of my ass, pulling them apart intimately and briefly to pass his thumb over my asshole. He chuckled darkly when I jumped at the forbidden sensation.

“One virginity at a time,” he promised. “For now, wife, brace yourself because it’s my turn to use you to come.”

“Dio mio,” I breathed, aroused to the point of pain even though I had just experienced the best orgasm of my life.

Later, I would have to think about what it said about me that I wanted to be used. Fucked open and filled up. Bent over and pushed to my knees and taken in my mouth, my pussy, and even—I shivered at the remembered sensation of Dario’s thumb on my hole—my ass.

About how the fact that we had an audience listening unwittingly in the kitchen barely entered my mind, and when it did, the thought of such exhibitionism was like kerosene on the passion already searing through me.