“You can take it, baby, can’t you?” (Patreon)

As she spread his shirt so her hands could wander over him, she clamped her mouth on his neck. He jerked and released a groan that made the space between her legs pulse and her lips curve with savage delight. She wanted to hear more. She wanted him desperate. Panting and moaning, so far gone he couldn’t hold back those sounds that made her fucking crazy. He was so proud of that hickey she’d given him in Denmark. She would give him one that he was going to have difficulty hiding. 

He didn’t try to stop her. On the contrary, his fingers slid into her hair and held her to him as she branded him. For now, he was hers. Her husband. The only one who had ever encouraged her bad behavior. He urged her to break the mold, to be herself, and now she didn’t know how to go back to walking the straight and narrow. And didn’t want to. Fuck her sisters and what they thought of their relationship. She would take this over their cookie cutter lives. 

For the first time in five years, she let herself go. This time, her mind wasn’t consumed with grief, mindless lust, revenge, or anger. She blocked everything out and focused on him. On his animal heat, his smooth skin, the ripples of muscle and scars. She made her way down his body, nibbling along his collar bone before tracing his pecs with her tongue and then licking his nipple. His chest expanded as all the air left his lungs. One hand applied pressure to his other nipple while she laved the other with her mouth. He quivered, tried to pull back, and then arched as if he couldn’t take what she was doing to him. He wasn’t controlling his reactions to her, he was reacting on pure impulse and she fed off it. Sounds of male appreciation filled the room as she loved on him. He seemed to sense she needed to be in control, to indulge, and he gave.  

When her mouth left his chest and moved down his ridged abdomen, he stopped breathing. She knelt between his spread thighs as she reached for his belt and slipped the button from the hole in his pants. She didn’t undo the zipper to give him relief. Instead, she took her time tracing his six pack and hummed in approval when he leaned back on his hands so she could explore to her heart’s content. As she worked her way down, she ran her hands up the inside of his thick thighs and rubbed her thumbs on either side of his bulge. He let out a pained groan that made her mouth water. 

“Jasmine.”

She hummed against his skin. “Yes, baby?”

“A man can only take so much,” he growled.

“But you’re not just any man, are you?” She looked up at his shadowed face, knowing he could see more of her since the drapes were open, casting parts of her in moonlight. “You can take it, baby, can’t you?”

To fuck with him, she kissed him right over his straining zipper. He bit out a vicious curse before he dropped his head dropped back in wordless surrender.

“Good boy,” she cooed. 

He went rigid. “Call me a good boy again, your time’s up, and I’m fucking you on all fours until you scream.” 

Not much of a threat when she was dripping, but she wasn’t done torturing him.

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Confessions. Please do not share or distribute.