Expecting Him (2 page)

Oh how I love when he’s hard
for me—a mere housewife with a baby, a few extra pounds on my hips, and a needy cunt.

I arch my back,
squeezing my hands into fists to try to relieve the pressure, and I lift my head, but squeeze my eyes shut.

"I can’t
." Wincing, I mouth the words but my voice is lost.

He wants to know why not
, and he doesn't let up until I whine through clenched teeth: "I'm ashamed of myself, damn it!"

His brief
burst of laughter is my answer. "Well," he says. "You’ll get over that, won't you? After all, you asked me to come. You practically begged me. I do so love when you beg me, Ana."

When h
e releases my breast, his fingers come away damp. I watch as he sucks the ball of his thumb, and then lifts his fingers to my lips. I jerk my chin away with loathing, but he follows easily, smearing it across my cheek when I won't open my mouth. He slaps my lips lightly for my act of defiance. It serves as a direct line to my clit which throbs with hunger.

I am whimper
ing softly, standing there with my breasts out. Whimpering because I know how this is going to go. For the moment, though, he seems distracted. I realize he is looking at the wall behind me at a large framed photograph over my head.

He nods at it, "Is that him?"

Though I am in a precarious position, I can’t help but I swell with pride, I can’t help myself. I’m his mother and he gives me a beautiful feeling. The light in my face shines as my tingling lips stretch in an affectionate smile of love, and I turn to look. "Yes. My beautiful baby boy. He’s only seven months old in that picture."

Nodding, he smirks at me before looking back at my boy.
"He looks more like me than he does you."

Quickly,
I wheel around swinging and he catches me by my wrists before I can slam my fists into him. He’s laughing as I cry out in frustration. Pushing me more, "Oh, so you see it too?"

"Shut up
!" I am fighting against him, trying to injure him or somehow break free. He holds me like a vice grip and pulls me close so that I can’t move and I’m forced to look into his deep, brown eyes. I betray him by squeezing my eyes shut again, refusing to give him what he wants. He presses his stubbly cheek to my tender one and gives a sadistic laugh.

"I'll give you another one
, Ana.
One that looks exactly the same as the first kid
. How do you plan on explaining
that
to your husband since he hasn’t been fucking you?"

Held tight to his chest, I dangle, tiptoes barely touching the floor. I cringe, hissing at him with loathing
, "My God, you fucking disgust me."

I feel his lips on my neck in
an affectionate touch, then his teeth raking over the tender spot making me shudder as he mumbles against my wild pulse: "You don't hate me. Not really. You've missed me, baby. I bet your pussy is slick with cream, just waiting for me to give it some attention."

He lets me go. I have needed to fight him, but
when he lets me go, I am still, apprehensive while I watch him, letting him take me gently by the shoulders and put me to one side as he takes my chair for himself. He sits casually with his legs apart and points to the space between them in a silent order I can’t refuse. I stall, but only for a moment. I step between them and this time, when points to the floor and I sink to my knees. I try to tell myself I don't know what I'm doing, but that’s a flat out lie.

I want him to take my hair in his hand, but he doesn't.
I can’t even look him in the eye.

"Look at me," he says, "and tell me you've missed me."

I slowly drag my gaze up from where I’m staring a hole in the floor. His face is serene, but his eyes are ablaze with fierce intensity.

"I’ve m
issed you, Martin."

"I know you have, baby," he answers, as smoothly as if
he loved me or something akin to adoration. Leaning back, he smiled almost affectionately, "Take my cock out like a good girl."

I swallow a whimper, sitting up on my heels with my back arched the way he likes. I stare
at the button of his fly, but I worry my lower lip with my teeth instead of reaching for him. Deep down I wish he would just do it himself. Set this in motion. But he won't. He expects me to do it. The shame is mine to be had.

I reach
for him with clumsy fingers and unzip his pants. He shifts his hips enough that I can tug both his jeans and briefs down and expose his turgid prick. He is impossibly hard and thick. It makes my mouth water. He’s even bigger than my husband and that’s saying something. I have been taking mental notes of all the similarities and differences between them.

"Open your pretty
little mouth and get it wet," he says.

I
know can do this.
God how I want to do this
. I sit up and lean in, keeping my eyes on his. Moaning, I take him into my mouth. I feel the shape and contour of sin in my mouth, salivating on the taste of it. I slide down the length of him and close my eyes. I lick and swirl my tongue back up and around the tip, flattening against the underside and sucking firmly. I’m not looking at him, but I’m listening for the primal sound of his approval or appreciation.

Even as h
ard as he is,
and he is oh so very hard
, he is quiet. My eyelashes flutter as I give in to curiosity and look up to see him watching me. He laughs as I look away at once. He strokes my hair gently, rubbing my scalp in such a way it makes me purr with my mouth full of cock. I’m in ecstasy serving him. It’s like I’ve arrived at the place I was meant to be. Euphoria doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel in the depths of my depravity.

I
n a sweet but decadent voice laced with callous intentions he breaks me from within when he starts, "When he leaves you…"

I immediately tense up and try to
jerk away from him. His hand is gripping the back of my neck now, holding me down, and successfully quieting my protest before I can voice it. In doing so he’s denying me the sound of it in my ears, not allowing me to defend myself by holding me down to choke on his cock as he continues snidely, "Like I was saying, when he leaves you, I'll take you in, baby."

He
holds me there until I am fighting, scratching, and punching at him, frantic to inhale a greedy breathe of air. Even more desperate to lash out and bruise him, make him hurt like he is hurting me.

"All three of y
ou."

He chuckles
before he lets me up. I cough hard, crying as I suck in deep gasps of air. The smirk on his face makes me appalled by him even more.

"
Shh, now, don't wake my son." He pats my cheek like a petulant child. There is a sadistic gleam in his eyes that rips into my soul
.

I trusted him…

Tears are still dripping from my eyes as I lift my head to glare up at him and wheeze, "He
isn't
yours."

He is
staring intently at me. "Oh you,” he chuckles. “…you're not sure, are you?" His rough hand strokes my cheek lovingly. His fingers tangling in my hair, giving it an affectionate tug until I lean into it, savoring the moment of tenderness before I can stop myself.

I can no longer look him in the eye so
I drop my head as I listen to his next words he’s murmuring sympathetically, "Not sure, baby?"

A
tear drops down onto my bared breast that is blossoming with the beginnings of bruises. I try to tell myself I won't dignify the question with a response, and I hear him begin laughing at my stubborn silence.

Through my hanging curls, I c
an see that he is still erect. If anything, he is even more so. He gets off on shaming me. The dark side of me loves it—adores that he’s so thick and stiff that I can see his veins throbbing.

All for me
.

"
Get up and take your jeans off."

I hesitate. I'd rather he
do it, or physically
make
me do it, and he knows it, just as I know he won't. Once more, he will bask in me proving my disgrace is on the back burner to my need to get fucked by him. Maybe that, in turn, makes me somewhat shameless. My face heats as I dare to look into his eyes again as I hesitate.

"Tell me to go," he says.

Willfully silent, I rise with a jerky motion and undo my jeans, pushing them down over the curve of my hips. Obedience to dominant men is something I have learned from my husband. Doing things that were expected of me came naturally now. In fact, it is comforting to me to have my decisions taken from me, so to think of it in this way, it feels right. After all, I was taught to obey without question. I slide my panties down and his lips part in a way that shows his pearl white teeth in a feral grin.

"
Well, that is interesting. Ana, did you shave your cunt for your husband even though he’s not fucking you?"

I clench my jaw,
my stubborn streak kicking in, but he jerks me closer by my hips, all traces of amusement gone from his voice as he demands quietly but firmly, "Answer me, girl."

With quiet admission, I look up at him and state clearly, "No, I did not. I
,” clearing my throat, I finish the hardest admission thus far. “I did it for you."

It's more than e
nough for him. He is grinning. In fact, he looks delighted. He stands up and takes hold of my hand and says, "Come, Ana, it’s time to go to your bedroom."

"No!" I blurt
out, horrified at the thought of him in the bed I have only shared with my husband. I try jerking my arm away, but his fingers tighten around my wrist and he pulls me close, close enough to bring his other hand across my cheek with an unapologetic slap that makes my knees weak. It won’t leave a bruise but it efficiently silenced my protests.

And it made me wetter.

I flinch as he raises his hand again, and shrink away from a second blow that never falls. He holds his raised hand where I can see it so terribly close to my face, and holds me in place as he promises low in my ear, "When you're my wife, you’ll never look for another to fuck you. I’ll fuck you so
often
, so
rough
, so
deeply
, everyone will know who you belong to. My marks will stain your skin with ownership."

His face is so
calm it makes me quiver. His eyes show a dark and dangerous emotion. He’s so close I can feel the heat of his even breath on my face. He releases my wrist. "You don't ever tell me no again, Ana. I fucking own you." His tone was lethal. I dare not cross him now. “Say it…” he demands.

“You…”

“Fucking say it.”

“…own me. You fucking own me.” My cunt clenches in anticipation. I know once we are in the bedroom there will be no turning back. He’ll take me like the whore I am and I will love him for it.

I’m so fucked in the head.

He waits, and after a
very brief moment, I turn from him and lead him up the stairs to the bedroom. When we cross the threshold, I hang back in the doorway and watch as he begin
s
easing his pants down his hips, gesturing for me to come closer when he sits on the edge of the bed.

"Come here."

My steps are tentative, though I want this more than I care to admit. When I reach him, he slides my shirt off shoulders so that I am standing naked at his side. I feel
more
than naked, if that makes sense. Utterly bare down to my very soul.

In an attempt to deny my desire, I whisper, "We
—we are
not
going to do this..." I wish I said it with conviction and authority. But in truth, I don’t want it to stop. He knows it.

"Yes we are," he interrupts lightly, as if it isn't even a question. He is reaching to
gently caress the swell of one breast.

"...unless
—unless you
make
me," I finish haltingly.

He chuckles
in the silence that follows, allowing me to catch my breath and brood on that thought. Then, smiling, "I don't have to make you, Ana. You called me, remember? You asked for this. Need this. You’re starved for it."

His fingers close in
a pinching, painful grip on my nipple, drawing me to him as I wince in pain. “You poor, depraved, girl.” He takes my other breast in hand, palming it, gripping it as he tugs me so I am facing him. I realize he is pulling me down, down to his erect cock. I shudder as his fingers release my breast to slip down and pinch my nipple instead, pulling them both now in a breathtaking tug.

Hunching
over, I brace my palms on his massive shoulders and try to push back, only increasing the pressure, stretching my nipples and making myself whimper as I attempt to keep away.

"You can't—
I can't—we can’t…" I gasp, resisting yet relenting when the pain is too fierce, and then resisting again, as if I didn’t want his cock. He is incredibly amused. Now that he has me where he wants and needs me, all he has to do is hold on, knowing I’ll soon give in. How could I not? The nubs of my nipples between his fingers are blood red and the pleasure pain of it has my cunt dripping steadily down my inner thighs.