Page 6 of The Husband Sitter

“You think I haven’t noticed your little crush on me, mon sucre d’orge?” He runs his tongue along his full, bottom lip, leaving it glossy. “Deny it if you want, but I can taste the lie. Tastes like wet virgin.”

This is the thing about my gift. I don’t have to be in front of someone to take on their emotions. Just like the mountain climber I channeled earlier for bravery. Mr. Black is putting me in the shoes of his stepsister. A stepsister with an innocent crush that’s about to be corrupted.

Mr. Black watches me with darkening eyes as he licks me repeatedly in a savoring manner, the tip of his tongue continually returning to my clit to flicker against the swollen nub. It’s the most divine, mind-blowing sensation I’ve ever experienced. Heat is fountaining inside of me, my muscles twisting and releasing. There is a man’s mouth between my legs. “I didn’t think you noticed,” I heave, seeing the world through someone else’s eyes. “My crush on you.”

Laughing darkly, Mr. Black traces a path up my belly with his tongue, continuing to my chest, where he drags it around each nipple, setting off sparks behind my eyes. “You’ve been shameful. Flaunting yourself. Making my cock hard against my will,” he mutters against my mouth, some reality threaded into those hoarse words. “Now you’ll suffer the consequences. Spread your thighs and let big brother rut you.”

If there wasn’t such immense need in Mr. Black’s eyes, I might have recoiled at the harshness in his words. But I feel his true intensions down to my marrow. The very real presence of his wife is in the room and he’s using animosity toward me to ease his guilt. He’s making it all right for himself to sleep with me within the bonds of his marriage and I have only sympathy, the increased need to ease his hunger.

I drop my thighs open and quietly show him my trust.

He falters, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Mon Dieu.” His head lowers, his breath warming my mouth. “You are unexpected.”

His praise makes me brave and I run fingertips down Mr. Black’s sculpted back, sucking in a breath when he begins to roll his hips, dragging the length of his erection through my slickness, the base of him continually prodding me right where I need it. And we moan into our first kiss, Mr. Black sucking in a surprised breath through his nose. I can taste his shock, but over what? I don’t know. I can simply lie there and let his tongue play with mine, moving my head to accommodate the rising intensity of the kiss.

When he pulls away, the grooves in his forehead are even deeper, his eyes shooting angry sparks at me. At first. Now he’s directing them at his wife. “Is this what you wanted?” He fists his huge erection and pushes home slowly, stretching me to full capacity. I’ve never been this close to another human being, and having one inside me is a rapid tumult of his feelings all at once. Lust, confusion, guilt, lust, lust, lust. Shock over the limited room inside me. “Is this what you wanted, wife?” Mr. Black grinds out. “To see me balls deep in this tight, little brat?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

And now I’m not only blanketed by Mr. Black’s emotions. Now his wife’s feelings roll over me in a wave and I’m not just desperate beyond belief for physical relief, I’m also worried. “Please. Don’t be angry with her,” I say to Mr. Black, clasping the sides of his face. “She only wants you to be happy. Needs it.” Ignoring the ripple of pain between my thighs, I wrap them around his hips and lift my ass, making him groan. “Show her your love and gratitude by accepting her gift. She needs this as much as you.”

“Merde,” he rasps, punching forward with a thrust and staring down into my eyes. “What are you?” His hands curl under my knees and lift them higher, higher, his drives turning frantic, his teeth baring themselves just above my face. “I can feel you in my head. All over my fucking body. Who is this creature you brought me, wife?”

“She’s magnificent, isn’t she, our beautiful Astrid?” Mrs. Black’s high heels rap on the floor until I can see them in my periphery, just beside my face. Standing over me while her husband mates me in an all-out frenzy on the floor. “How does she feel, darling?”

“Incredible, damn you. Her pussy…” He presses my knees to my shoulders, his hips pumping, pumping, pounding. “It’s like fucking the pinkie finger of a glove.”

“Now wouldn’t that feel nice a couple of times a week while I’m away?”

“Yes.”

I’m barely able to draw breath around the glorious sensations. There should be pain, because I’m a virgin, but there’s none. There is no negativity in this room or inside my mind and body. I’m a pleasure vessel, getting and giving, to me, to Mr. and Mrs. Black. “Her father just texted,” Mrs. Black murmurs, returning us to the game. “He’s in the driveway. Looking for his innocent, little girl.”

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