Jenai

- Delirious…  Gently he flips you onto your back.  Head lolls against the plush pillows, soft pants slip past your swollen lips.  “An-Ani, you have to s-stop…” 

- Mind hazy…  Faintly you’re aware of him nudging your legs apart.  Guiding your fingers into place to keep them spread open.  “Can’t k-keep going…”

- Thoughts growing cloudier with each passing moment…  Larger body slots between; pressing down, trapping yours beneath.  Feebly you writhe and wriggle, trying to free yourself.  “I'm not s-supposed to get…”

- With each blissfully painful orgasm…  Glassy eyes meet his golden ones, sinister smile creeps across his face.  “No one tells me what I can and cannot do…”  Chuckling darkly; monstrous length grinding, smearing pre on your folds and stomach.  “Even my own wife…”

- Weakly you sob out as he surges forward once more.  Gummy walls struggling, burning...aching from the intense stretch.  Nails digging, scratching at your thighs.  Familiar pricks stinging at your waterlines.  “I…n-no…I…”

- Swallowing up your pleas; his tongue tangles, utterly dominates yours.  Hips rocking slowly; bulbous tip somehow still hitting, bullying your poor cervix.  “Hmmph…”

- While his metallic digits toy at your sore, raw nipples.  Rolling, tugging them just hard enough to cause fat drops of milk to spring forth…trickle down, mingle with your mixed sweat.  “Please…p-please…”

- Fiery kisses trail, teeth nip at your neck and collarbone.  “Stop your crying, angel,” he growls into your marked skin.  Voice rumbling through you, coil beginning to tighten in your stomach again.  “Don’t want to hear it.”

- Pace increases; thrusts grow harsh, wild.  Curves bounce, jiggle; balls slap heavily, wetly against your bottom.  Sound echoing off the bed chamber’s walls, along with your pitiful babbles.  “But…I-I…”

- “Need this as bad as I do…”  Lips travel lower, hot mouth encompasses your leaking bud.  Suckling, savoring the stray drops of nectar.  Biting the tender flesh that surrounds them, eliciting small whimpers and gasps from you.

- “Have me destroy, ruin you…”  Organic fingers brush, swirl your overstimed clit.  Pinching, flicking; big thumb pressing, squeezing the little nub firmly.  Pleasure building, boarding on the line of agony.

- “Let me back inside that perfect womb of yours…”  Mechno hand slides up, wraps around your fragile throat.  Hold tight, keeping you in place while he slams…attempts to breach past the tight rim.

- “Filling you, making you heavy with another of my heirs…”  Driving deeply one last time, you feel the familiar pop and flood of warmth one last time.  Pussy involuntary clenches, gushes.  Tears flow freely in happiness or sadness, you aren't quite sure.  Because you’re so…

- Delirious…  Gently he pulls out, pries your fingers off.  Easing your trembling limbs down to the mattress, propping your hips up with a plush pillow.  Muttering sweet words of admirations and praises; about not wanting to see any of his seed go to waste, to be sure it takes.  “Good girl…” 

- Mind hazy…  Faintly you’re aware of coos, squeaks coming from nearby.  Catching a brief glimpse of his cock in the firelight.  Coated in your combined juices, tinted slightly in something crimson.  “Must be hungry…hopefully I didn’t drink up all his meal…”

- Thoughts growing sharper with each passing moment…  You lay there numb; content to not move, to let fatigue something else overtake you.  Until a small bundle is placed into your arms, tiny hand reaches for you.  And suddenly the life rushes back into you, the night’s events fade away.  “Looks like someone missed you…” 

- With each happy noise from your newborn…  Clear eyes meet his golden ones, wide smile creeps across his face.  “You’re so beautiful…helpless, hatari…”  Chuckling softly; big hand cradling, caressing your round stomach.  “Think I’ll keep you this way for years to come…”

-  With each chaste kiss placed on the crown of your head…  Forcing, burying the last shred of your old self.  You return your beloved husband’s smile, his kiss.  “I’d love nothing more…Lord Vader.”

Giggling under your breath, you miss the rustling in the living room, mind occupied with the alluring threat of a hot shower and a long sleep— the dark figure leaning against the wall next to the TV blends with the shadows, another thing that goes unnoticed. His fists clench at his sides, eyeing you up and down. That dress, the one he loves, that smile, the one that makes his blood boil— and now, for all the bad reasons. Approaching you slowly, his demeanor mirroring a predator’s, it’s maddening. His hand clasps over your mouth, preventing you from making any sound that could alert your neighbors. 

Your body freezes, stomach drops and your eyes widen. A rush of sobriety raises goosebumps on your skin; who could it be? A burglar? You need to scream, you need to run. Frantically, your nails claw at his forearm, your head shaking side to side in a desperate attempt to free from his tough grasp. It’s futile, it was from the start. 

Spinning you around, the man pushes you against the nearest wall, facing you. It’s him. Him.

James looks down at you, oh— how much did you miss those blue eyes, but this time, there is no trace of the usual sweetness, no warmth, just pure anger, an aggravating, heavy emotion. 

“I thought I said how much I hate when you wear that dress in public.”

Shaking away from his grip, your lungs scream for air. Inhaling loudly, your hands grip his biceps. “James? What the fuck are you doing here?”

The questions seem to worsen his mood, slapping your hand away to grip your jaw firmly, tilting your head upwards. “I’m the one who should be asking you that,” He replies, scrunching his nose at the smell of your breath. “You smell like shit. How much did you drink?”

Calling his name again causes him to drag you to the living room, forcing you to the couch. Your hands clutch the armrest, the entire world becoming a dizzy blur. His hands wander, lifting the hem of your dress. His words fly over your head, your hand tightening over your chest, gasping for air. You either throw up or kick him away— until a third option sneaks in between; you whimper when his thumb brushes over the cotton of your underwear, almost as if he was… checking you. 

“Where were you?”

The reply comes out instantly, slurred but clear. “I went out with my friends— the girls you know from work,” It’s automatic, giving explanations once again. Something you thought you got rid of. 

He just hums, not entirely pleased with your response. James is checking if you would be honest, of course he knows which bar, and which friends. He knows what you drank, how much, he knows everything. James always does. 

“Who was that guy you were dancing with?”

The question makes you gulp. Cheeks heating up, caught red-handed. Despite knowing better than to ignore him, you do, tilting your head to the side and trying to focus on the way his thumb is circling your clit through your panties. James repeats the question, his free hand delivering a sharp slap on your inner thigh, returning your hazy eyes to his face. 

“I don’t know,” You blabber. “He just asked me to dance, I don’t know him. I promise.”

“Bullshit,” James rolls his eyes, speeding his ministrations on your clit. “You make promises you can’t fucking keep.”

Dragging your underwear down, you throw your head back when he leans down to spit right at your center, smearing his saliva with his fingers. It’s embarrassing how easily he can work you to a putty mess, fingers parting your folds to meet your clit with his tongue, inhaling deeply. Sliding two fingers at once, he bites down on your hip, leaving a small mark that will fade in a couple of days… a reminder. Pushing every exact button, James curls his fingers, proud of himself for getting you so wet in just a couple of minutes. No man would be able to do that, he knows that, you know that.

Wiping his lips and chin with the back of his hand, he unzips his worn jeans in a rush, freeing his throbbing cock, stroking it lazily as he looks at you. That look in his eyes doesn’t seem to want to let go, in fact, you notice how his anger only intensified. In any other circumstances, it would have been the hottest thing you’ve ever seen but now… it terrifies you, as much as it arouses you. 

Rubbing the tip against your swollen bundle of nerves, James pushes in, biting his lower lip at the feeling. He took for granted how much he’d miss your pussy, how it made his mind go blank for a few seconds. It’s like a fucking addiction he can’t get rid of. No matter how much he tries, nothing feels better than to be buried deep inside you. Wasting no time and giving you no break, he begins to thrust, palms flat on your hips, pinning you against the couch. The stretch burns, but fuck— does it feel amazing. You drape your arm over your face, ashamed. You promised you wouldn’t fall so effortlessly for him, not again, but it seems like you can’t run away from him. Not now, not ever.

James yanks your arm away from your face, murmuring some words that your brain doesn’t try to catch. This isn’t the loving reunion you dreamed of the first week you spent away from him, oh no, this is pure, unapologetic hunger. Your back arches, moaning his name in a high-pitched voice, those pretty noises only growing louder the faster he rams into you.

"Stop fucking whining," James hisses, wrapping his hand around your throat. "That's why you asked me for some time apart? So you could go around being a fucking whore?"

Shaking your head frantically, you claw at his unbuttoned shirt. His cock is stretching you in ways you've never felt before— in ways no other man could. The downfall of your relationship with James became the perfect excuse for you to open yourself to the world once more, but little did you know, he was still there. Stalking you, lurking around every corner, taking notice of every single person you hang out with.

"No!" You choke, trying to shake from his bruising grip, but it's pointless. Not only does he have you tight in his hold— he has you right where he says you belong; pinned underneath him, with your legs spread and your pussy leaking. "That's not true— let me explain you!"

When he lets go of your throat, he delivers a sharp slap across your right cheek, biting his lip at the way your walls squeeze his cock. He knows you like the back of his hand.

"Do you really think you could get rid of me so easily?" He taunts you. His voice rings in your ears, muffling your heartbeat. James doesn't even let you gasp for air, he just continues to strike the back of his hand against your cheek, making sure to keep his cock settled deep inside you, hitting that spot with every thrust. "I'm your fucking boyfriend. The man you love."

There wasn’t a chance to deny that, you know he is telling the truth. 

“All that bullshit of needing some time for yourself—” James chuckles, it’s a mean, degrading sound. “You just wanted to be a slut, right? You just wanted to get rid of me to find a mediocre dick.”

“That’s not true— that’s not true,” You repeat over and over, digging your nails into his forearms, your fingers dragging down his tattooed skin. “I only love you. I just want you.”

That desperate whine quenches his rage, but it doesn’t stop him from ravaging you. James can’t let you go, at least not without letting you know what you’ve been missing— what you will miss forever if you keep trying to stay away from him. Pulling out, he flips you down on your stomach clumsily, landing a loud slap on your ass before he plunges his cock back inside you, crushing you with his weight. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your slick walls squeezing his cock echo through the dark living room, it’s too much. Nothing has really changed— you were just stupid enough to think it did.

Groaning, James licks his lips, watching how you crumble underneath him. He’s close, so close.