Thomas

 

She was glorious. A delicious wonder writhing under her greedy fingers as they pumped her to her peak.

The boy in me was air punching, swept away from his usual melancholy to something far more exciting.

It was a victory, beyond all doubt, one that exploded in one brilliant flash as Grace Foster’s mouth welcomed my tongue and sucked me in.

This wasn’t like the slow, steady victories of my professional career, granted after long, concerted and physically draining bouts of effort for years on end. This was an another beast, a rousing beast, a beast that burst forth in me with a strength that took me aback.

She was more than I’d ever dared to imagine as a teenager. Her tongue was a paradox in its movements, both eager and shy in equal measure. Her lips were soft, meeting mine with a gentleness at odds with the force with which I claimed them. My kiss was violent and deep, perfectly timed to meet her own crest of pleasure. She couldn’t fight the shudder of breath against my open mouth, her throat rumbling low enough that I could feel the vibration against my fingertips as they swept down her neck and onto the sensitive swell of her gorgeous tits. I shifted against her, pressing the hardness of my dick against her hip, throbbing even through the thick fabric of my suit trousers.

I loved the contrast of our attire. Pretty Grace Foster dressed for my pleasure, exposed in unfamiliar garments with her dainty fingers frantic in her wetness. Me, still suited for a day playing hardball in the boardroom.

It was more than the simple divide of the clothing. There was a psychological resonance echoing through our differing appearances, undeniable in its vibrancy, and it was making my dick as hard as all hell.

I was in control.

Firmly in my comfort zone just as far as she was outside of hers.

I loved it that way. Needed it that way.

But it was more than the selfish power play of the teenage ghost inside me. The dynamic was as essential for her pleasure that evening as it was for mine.

I needed Grace to yield to my natural authority with every fibre of her being. It was only through basking in my strength that she would ever allow herself to fully embrace her vulnerabilities, and therein lay the ultimate revelation, waiting quietly for exposure.

As her defences crumbled and opened her up to my touch, so the quiet desires of her deepest filthy soul would be there for the taking. Claiming that shadowy side of her blossoming sexuality would be the ultimate prize, and the one that would leave her raw and desperate in the aftermath, an addict craving more.

And that, ultimately, was why I was really here.

Not to get my dick wet in some other man’s woman. Not to prove a passing point that another man’s cock could feel as good as her husband’s. Not even to prove that cash was king in a world stuffed full of valentine’s trinkets and grandiose statements of forever.

This was about the man bracing in his seat as I lowered my mouth to his beautiful wife’s nipple and sucked hard enough that she cried out for me. This was about the history between us, the rivalry that spanned a lifetime, even if he was too sheltered by his ignorance to feel it.

This was about me proving that I could shake his marriage to its foundation in nine short hours.

Proving I was the better man. The more skilled man, more worthy man, the more powerful, gifted, sensual, fucking everything man.

That I fucking mattered.

That I was fucking somebody.

I pulled away from Grace’s body as the fire inside roared too deep to contain. I calmed myself with steel will, staring down at her open, puffy lips as her body strained for her second climax.

“Good girl,” I said again, loving the way the thrill flashed across her pretty face.

I watched her orgasm through cold eyes, detached from her squirming groans as she unravelled before me. It was something truly special, the surprise in her dilated pupils a treasure to behold.

The groans were all natural as she buckled and lashed out with her feet, her body betraying her shyness with every jerky motion as she cried out and rode the waves. She tensed in the throes for long blissful moments, head tipped back and mouth wide before the inevitable collapse that followed.

Her breaths were heavy as she recovered, her fingers recoiling from her sensitive cunt and coming to rest on her belly. I could smell her wetness, musky enough to make my mouth water and every bit as appetising as I anticipated.

Her eyes were closed as she gathered herself, only fluttering back onto mine as I raised two of her wet fingers to my lips and sucked them clean.

She shivered but didn’t look away, making no effort to fight me as I took her other hand in mine and stretched both of them high above her head.

The cuffs were already waiting, on chains that stretched under the mattress, waiting like coiled snakes out of sight.

She murmured as I clicked the first steel restraint around her slender wrist, but didn’t argue. It was Brett that shunted in his seat, but I didn’t grant him even a sliver of acknowledgement.

I knew he was a proud fool enough to stay seated, an angry bull stomping at the glowing red line on the carpet, but impotent all the same.

All for the sake of a paltry, pitiful fifty fucking grand.

I clasped the second cuff closed around Grace’s raised wrists, smiling just a fraction as I slipped back down the bed to her side. Her face was tipped in my direction, her endorphins still spiking as her breathing steadied.

“Relax,” I told her, and she kept her eyes on mine as she tested her restraints.

“Please…” she whispered. “Please just… wait… I’m so…” She rippled against me as she struggled to find the words.

But I knew.

Of course I knew.

Her body was prickling all over, her pussy aching from the crest of her second wave. Her dark hair was a nest on the sheet underneath her, her hairline glistening with sweat as she swept her tongue over her swollen lower lip.

She flinched as I placed a firm hand on her belly and slipped lower, whimpering as my strong fingers cupped her sopping wet mound through her knickers.

“Please, I’m so sensitive…” she said again, but I shushed her.

My mouth pressed to her ear, exhaling deep before I spoke. “I’m going to give you what you need, you just don’t know it yet.”

My fingers were brutal as they dug inside the slit in her thong and ploughed hard into that tender cunt. She flinched, her thighs clamping tight around my hand, but I knew exactly what I was doing.

The hook in my gesture was precise, pressing fierce on the bundle of nerves that pulsed behind her engorged clit. I located the spot in moments, angling my wrist for optimum pressure, and she moaned. Fuck, how she moaned, straining against the cuffs that held her wrists, buckling even as I set her alight.

“That dirty little pussy needs filling,” I hissed. “You’ll be crying out for less even as it begs me for more. Trust me.”

She didn’t trust me, her eyes were wide on mine as I stared down at her, the chains rattling at her wrists as she squirmed. It didn’t matter.

She may not trust me, but her body did. That tight wet hole gurgled its pleasure and strained for more. Her grunts were primal, expression full of confusion as I worked her from the inside.

And then she said it, barely more than a breath. “Yes…”

I stretched her wider with a third thick finger and her thighs dropped open.

“Yes…”

I kept my fingers sweeping slow enough to drive her crazy, rippling for more until she was panting like a bitch on heat.

“Yes… please…”

“Please, what?” I grunted, letting my tongue taste her clammy cheek as she tugged at her chains for more leverage.

“Please…”

“Tell me,” I pushed, and rubbed that swollen clit from behind, hard enough to hurt if she wasn’t so fucking gone for me.

“Please give it to me,” she whimpered and her eyes were full of pretty shame as they begged mine. “Fuck me, please fuck me.”

And there we had it. Fifty grand be fucked.

This wasn’t about the money, not for her, not anymore.

“With pleasure, sweetheart,” I whispered.

My smile was victorious as I finally met her husband’s raging stare.

My eyes stayed fixed on his as I freed my swollen cock and his expression said it all, just as hers did.

This wasn’t about the money for him either.

It was about the fucking hard on that pulsed underneath his fucking palm.

And hate. It was about hate.

Hate and shame and humiliation in the face of his own sordid desires.

I wished I could taste the pain in his eyes as I slammed my cock inside his pretty wife’s pussy and made her mine.