Asshole Husband

She wasn’t going to get away again.

If he had to knock her up for her to see that, he’d do it. He’d already checked her bedroom and bathroom, and even her bag. There were no pills to stop her from getting pregnant, and he didn’t intent to wear a rubber to fuck his wife.

“Please,” she said.

The whimper fell from her lips, and he slammed to the hilt and continued to play with her clit, bringing her closer to orgasm with every passing second.

She moaned his name, and having no choice but to let go of her hip, he placed a hand over her mouth. “I better keep you silent as I don’t want to be interrupted.”

Her pussy clenched around him at his orders.

He brought her off, holding her in place as she came.

Only when she’d finished, and the last of her orgasm subsided, did he grab her hips and fuck her even harder, making her take his cock.

He pounded inside her, and Rachel had no choice but to hold onto the counter otherwise he’d have pushed her into it with the force of his thrusts. With how wet and tight she was, he didn’t last much longer. He came hard, making sure he was buried within her, hoping his cum would flood her womb, and they’d make a baby. Last time, it didn’t take much at all, and he anticipated they would be pregnant soon.

Kissing her neck, they were both panting for breath.

“I don’t think you should use that dough. There’s no way I’d be able to go to the potluck tomorrow thinking about people eating the pie we’d fucked against while you were making it,” he said.

She laughed. “I won’t. I can’t believe we did that.”

He licked over her pulse and pulled out of her. He bent down to gather up her panties and saw his cum leaking from her pussy.

Cupping her cunt, he began to push his release back inside her, not wanting her to lose a single drop.

The next time he took her, he was going to have to find a reason to prop her up so there was no way any part of him could come away.

So she didn’t panic, he put her panties back in place but cupped her, pushing them against her so she would think it was her own arousal she felt.

She moaned, and he stood behind her, biting down on her neck.

“I think we both know who you really belong to.”

“We’ve got to stop doing this,” she said.

“Why? When we’re having so much fun and we’re already married. I know I’m not the best husband, but I’m working on it and I want to be for you.” He wasn’t lying now.

He wanted to have sex with his wife.

Fucking her wasn’t just about getting her pregnant; he did want to feel her against him.

Knocking her up was just a fast track for him to get what he wanted.

He’d never claimed to be anything other than an asshole. He got what he wanted by whatever means necessary.

****

The day of the potluck, Rachel hadn’t ever felt so nervous. This was the first time she and Wolfe had stepped out together as a family with Benjamin. Wolfe insisted on taking his car, and they’d loaded up the pies she’d baked, minus the two she’d been preparing when Wolfe decided he wanted her.

After he had sex with her in the kitchen, he’d stayed to help clean up the mess, and even make a couple of pies himself. She’d never thought of him as domesticated before, but he’d followed her instructions without question, and she found it nice just to be near him. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time, and she knew she needed to get herself together.

There was no way he’d give her a divorce if he thought for a second she was still aching for him, wanting him.

You are!

She pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the day. Wolfe parked up in one of the few available spaces outside the closed diner.

Everyone would be at the town square near the church. This was the town’s way of bringing together the community, and they believed it all started with food, sharing, and extending to love. She didn’t know what she believed.

The moment the car was in park, Benjamin was out of the car, but like the good kid he was, waiting at the trunk of the car so they could unload the pies.

Wolfe lifted the trunk, and Benjamin grabbed two pies, rushing toward the tables in the center of the square.

“Does this happen every Sunday?” Wolfe asked.

“No. Once a month unless there’s bad weather, and then it gets postponed or canceled until the following month.”

“And everyone brings something?”

“Yep.”

“You enjoy this?”

“I love this part. The preparing and stress of making sure I don’t poison anyone, not so much.”