A Fragile Wife(57)

By: Cynthia Dane


No matter how in charge he was in any situation, Ken could never resist a request like that. He slipped right into her, taking her to his hilt and forcing all his strength into her. Lana cried in ecstasy, in pain, in foreboding as her husband used her as he damn well pleased.

Lana didn’t care what others may say about her. She didn’t care what she looked like when she had sex. She didn’t regard the world as a place where her worth was tied into her role as wife and mistress of a household. In these moments, however, she wanted to believe that the world didn’t exist outside of her and Ken anyway. No other man made her feel this way. Now she understood that no other woman made him feel this way.

Throwing all that trust back into the man turned her into the person she knew she wanted to be.

“Hell, Lana.” Ken grabbed her breasts, driving himself deep within her, searching for the spot that would send her to another realm of reality. When he does, I’ll come, and then he’ll come with me. He once told her that he never orgasmed as hard as he did when he watched her climax. They weren’t perfect. There were many times one would finish climaxing before the other began. But when they could be in perfect unison? Lana never felt more in tune with her husband than in those moments. “Fuck me, you’re so damned hot.”

She was hot? Did the man know what he looked like, with the sweat running down his chest and his slick cock coming in and out of her? Lana grabbed his arms and closed her eyes. “Come in me, Ken,” she demanded, stepping out of her bounds. “I want to feel like your wife.”

He slipped his hands from her breasts to her neck. “Don’t you mean my whore?”

“Same difference.”

The way he took her after that was unlike ever before.

There was pain, but it was so satisfying, because it meant she was alive with her husband, here and now. The pain was eclipsed by the intense pleasure rippling through her, attempting to drag Ken down with her into the abyss she carved by herself. Kill us both and let us rest in peace. It was morbid to think about death during sex, and yet Lana found it peaceful. They were going to be together for the rest of their lives, carnally and spiritually. One day they would lose the carnally. Was that such a bad thing?

Well, for now she was more than happy to keep the carnal side of things. Especially when she began to climax, her whole body shaking in pleasure and begging to feel her husband come inside her – to reassure her that she was his for now, for eternity.

“Ken!” She dug her fingers into anything they could find: his shoulders, his chest, his hips, the couch… nothing was sacred as the delights of marital bliss overcame her. “I’m coming!”

“I know.”

Ken struggled to thrust as intently after that, since Lana’s body completely clamped down on him and insisted on keeping him as long as possible. At that point, her husband, her Master, the love of her life had no choice but to give in to his urges.

His hand searched for hers, holding it above her head as the rest of her continued to shake against the couch. Ken made short work of himself, of her, uniting their bodies in the most intimate way he knew how.

No man has ever felt this good inside me. Nor had any man felt as satisfying losing himself inside of her. The deep sounds in his throat… the heat of his body… the arousing scent of their bodies come together. Lana fell into a spell that allowed her to transcend every negative feeling plaguing her heart and mind.

Thank God.

“Holy shit…” Ken collapsed on top of her, still inside her body but unwilling to move. Good. Lana wanted to hold onto this moment a little longer. “I love you, Lana.”

She sighed, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling against his warm form. “I love you too, Kenny.”

Their kisses did not lose their intensity for a while. Not when they were so full of the love they reclaimed from one another. He would never betray me. Not this man. Not the man who asked her out, who seduced her, who proposed to her, who married her, who spent the past twelve years smitten with her and the fun she brought to their lives. Perhaps with any other woman he would not be so content, but as long as they had each other, there was no reason to believe that anything was other than what it seemed.

When they eventually detached, Lana sitting up while Ken leaned against the back of the couch, she had a new thought. “Do you really think I’m a whore?” she asked. She was prepared for either answer. Ken had heard every sordid story she had to tell a few times over.

“Oh, Bunny, you know that’s playing around. I thought you liked it.”