I wake in a cold sweat, with jarring fear swimming
through my veins, my heart leaping from my chest. It’s hard to breathe, as if
there were a large hand clutched to my throat. I can’t remember what my
nightmare was about, but I can take a good guess. The stress is finally
weighing down on me. I know I should talk to Elle about what’s going on, but
how can I put that on her?
Gabrielle.
I turn over to
find solace in her touch, but she isn’t there. I panic for a moment, still
between awake and asleep. I shoot up; searching the room for her, but it’s
nearly pitch black. I jump out of bed and throw on a pair of black sweatpants,
heading out of our room to find her.
I check her
room and my office, but she isn’t in either, so I head downstairs. As I cross
the main room, I hear Elton John blasting and the rustling of pans in the
kitchen. When I open the door, I find her laying cookie sheets and a large bowl
on the marble island counter, singing along with the classic tune, shaking her
wide hips to the beat. I lean on the doorframe and keep watching her as she
gathers the ingredients for her after midnight cook-a-thon. She’s dressed in
that white silk robe I love, the one that makes her look angelic. I start to
wonder if she has anything on beneath it.
Suddenly, she
spots me and smiles, turning the music down.
“Hey,” she
says softly. “Can’t sleep either?”
I shake my
head slowly and smirk at her with the lustful gleam in my eyes that sends her
up the wall. She lets out a whimper, and I saunter over to her, boring my eyes
into hers.
When I reach
her, I spin her around so she’s facing away, press her into the counter, and
brush her hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck to me. I lean into it,
trailing hot, passionate kisses up to her jaw and then ear, where I whisper,
“What are we cooking?”
“Cookies,” she
moans out as I trace my tongue along the fold of her ear.
“Tasty,” I
reply with a growl in my voice. “May I help you, angel?”
“Yes, slick,
you may.” She presses her rear into my steel cock. I step away, regaining the
control. She glances back at me over her shoulder, pouting. I smirk at her,
popping a brow real quick.
“I’m sorry
about earlier,” I apologize. “You know I don’t want to involve you if there’s
no reason, and I don’t feel this is need to know. It will only cause you
stress.”
“You mean
well.”
“I really do,
Elle.”
“I just don’t
like watching how all of this affects you.”
“I know,
angel. I love you for that.” She smiles up at me, a huge teeth-bearing grin.
“Alright,” I clap my hands together, rubbing them rapidly, “what do you need me
to do?”
We blend milk,
eggs, chocolate chips, and other ingredients in a bowl and whip it into submission.
When it’s ready to put on the tin, I stick my finger into the batter and take a
taste. “Mm.”
“Stop! You
have to wait until they’ve baked,” she scolds, slapping my hand. If one of my
subs had done that in the past, I would’ve punished her severely. Luckily for
her, it’s charming when Elle gets all bossy. “These are for Sloan and Maya,
too.”
I grin
wickedly, and she scowls. I poke my finger into the dough again and smear it
over her lips.
“Hey!” she
giggles, licking off the gooey mess. Her eyes playfully glare at me. She takes
two fingers and drops them into the batter, scooping up a wad onto the tips.
“I wouldn’t if
I were you,” I warn with a kinked smirk.
“Well, you
aren’t me, and I’m not you,” she retorts with a wicked glint in her eyes and
spreads the cold goo down the bridge of my nose to my lips.
“Oh, you’re done,”
I teasingly threaten her.
“Don’t.” She
holds her palms up to me. I grab onto her wrist, yanking her into my arms. I
lean my head in and rub my nose across her face, cheeks, forehead, and lips.
“No, Hunt,”
she pleads in a fit of the giggles.
Suddenly, the
song changes to something sultry, the atmosphere around charges, and the energy
shifts. The sudden need to be inside her, possessing every inch of her body
overwhelms me, hardening my cock.
I grasp a
fistful of her lush, golden hair and gently yank her head back, looking over
her beautifully messy face. As I gaze into her eyes, the playful light fades,
transforming into licentious wanting. She thrusts her small hands into my hair,
weaving it between her fingers. I come onto her lips, licking and tasting the
sweetness of the cookie dough and her on my greedy tongue. She lets out a moan
and melts into me like hot butter.
I grab her by
the waist, lift her onto the counter, and spread her legs with my hips,
grinding into her with my firm cock. My lips move over her jaw, and she tilts
her head back, giving me access to her neck.
“You feel so
good,” she pants, writhing under my wanton touch.
“You taste
phenomenal,” I reply from the curve of her neck.
My fingers
blindly search for the opening of her robe, grasping on and ripping it open,
pushing it off her shoulders so she’s exposed to me. I pull away, noticing she isn’t wearing anything underneath, and
explore her luscious body with my kneading hands. I tear one away, dip a few
fingers into the batter, and paint it across her breasts and tiny nipples.
“What are you
doing, slick?” she asks with a lustful haze over her face, panting for me.
“Having
dessert,” I reply, coming down on her with devouring strokes of my tongue.
“I love you,”
she says with a gasp, gripping her hands in my hair as I dine upon her.
I lift my head
up slightly and tell her the most honest words I’ll ever express. “Love can’t
comprehend what I feel for you. It pales and cowers.”
“I know,
baby,” she purrs, running her nails across my scalp, and I realize she truly
does. She finally accepts my love for her fully.
My need to
take her hard overpowers me. Making love just won’t satiate this burn inside
me.
I bring her
nipple back into my mouth, nipping and plucking at it with my teeth. She moans
loudly, and her body arcs, covered in sugar and raw dough. She’s a delicious disaster.
I move down,
tasting the intoxicating mix of the ingredients and my wife’s flesh on my taste
buds. I’ve never been so hungry or hard in my life.
“Give it to
me, Damian,” she pleads.
“What, angel?
What do want me to give you?”
“Your cock,”
she whimpers out as if on the verge of tears, so desperate for me, it overcomes
her, too.
I wrap an arm
about her waist, positioning her into the center of the island while I climb
atop her, adjusting myself between her legs. Without hesitation, I enter her,
sinking root deep into the warmth of her responsive body.
“Yes,” I hiss
immerse myself inside her. “Is that what you needed, angel?”
“Oh, fuck.”
Her hands claw at my back when I start to pump into her with hard, relentless
thrusts. I move my arms under her back, hooking my hands onto her powder-dusted
shoulders to gain better leverage, pulling her down onto me with every harsh thump.
The sharp
pings of metal and pops of glass, pushed off the counter by our reckless
wanting, hit the floor with a clattering crash.
Her warm pussy
gobbles my cock, devouring it to the base. She swivels and dips, taking her
pleasure from me.
“Harder,” she
screams out, ordering me to give her what she needs. I pull out quickly, flip
her over, and spread her legs with my hips, sinking back inside her soft folds
from behind. I slam into her ceaselessly, driving my cock deep, and grasp a
fistful of hair into my hand. I yank her head back hard enough to get her
attention. She growls and shoves back onto me, meeting me thrust for thrust.
I feel her constrict
around me, twitching violently about my head and shaft, begging me for every
drop of my cum. I feel myself tense, seizing up until I explode, milking myself
into her with thick gushes. I keep at her, using my cum as lubricant, pounding
into her mercilessly.
My hand still
clasped to her hair, I take the other and shove it under her hips, lifting them
slightly. My finger slithers between her swollen lips, saturated with a mix of
her and me, and locate her clit, hard like a little pebble. I rub it with
circular motions while I aggressively pump into her. Feeling her build up
around me, I go wild on it, flicking it with rapid strikes until she bursts,
tremoring beneath me, crying out my name.
I press my
torso into her and mutter breathlessly into her ear, “That’s it, angel. Feel
it.”
She convulses
and then goes limp on the counter, panting uncontrollably.
Kissing her
creamy back, I edge myself from her spent body, ensuring she feels every inch
of me on my way out, and lie beside her on the marble island satisfied. I cradle
her in my arms, resting her head on my chest.
“I love you,
Elle,” I murmur in her hair before kissing her atop her head.
She glances up
at me with heavy-lidded eyes and smiles weakly.
“I
love you, Damian.”
