August Heat (Men of August 4)

“Sarah. I’m going to come.” He always warned her first. Gave her the chance to pull back, to let him finish in the depths of her pussy rather than spilling his seed in her mouth and making him harder, hungrier, for the flesh between her thighs.

As always, by now, she was craving the taste of him, nearly demented in her need to feel the hard wash of semen blasting down her throat. Like a favorite dessert, she couldn’t deny herself. Her lips tightened on him, her stroking hands intensifying the pleasure as his hand buried in her hair, fingers clenching, his hips thrusting harder, faster into her mouth.

The burst of his release had her groaning in pleasure. The tart taste of his semen washed over her tongue. His cock stroked over it spilling the rich essence as she tried to swallow the flesh coming so close to her throat.

Hard, liquid pulses of pleasure accompanied by his throttled shouts of release washed through her. Sarah wanted to cry out at the depth of her own satisfaction. Even without her orgasm, knowing she brought her husband to the point of such pleasure never failed to heat her entire body. Never failed to keep him hard, make him hungrier than ever before.

He pulled from her mouth with a lusty growl, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her up until she sat on the padded edge of the hot tub. There were no preliminaries. He spread her thighs, bending her back, then watched as he sank every hard, hot length of his cock deep inside the slick portal awaiting him there.

“Brock,” she cried out, as helpless as always to still her own vocal enjoyment of the act.

“That hot little mouth is like an aphrodisiac,” he growled as his head lowered, his tongue licking at the hard point of one nipple. “I can’t fuck you enough, Sarah. I can’t get enough of the pleasure, baby. I can’t come hard enough to ever sate the need I have for you.”

She almost climaxed at the power of emotion echoing in his voice. He always hungered for her. She knew that. Reveled in it. Loved it. Her cunt tightened convulsively around the thrusting shaft, her clitoris throbbing with each stroke of his pelvis against it. He was destroying her. Stroke by stroke, by each whispered entreaty, each earthy vow.

“Harder,” she cried out at the carefully paced strokes. She needed him now. Needed him to take her hard and fast before she poured out every secret he demanded that lay in her soul. “Please, Brock. Fuck me harder. Now.”

He chuckled against the curve of her breast. “You know better than that, baby.”

She groaned. “Please, Brock. Please.”

“Give me what I want, Sarah.” He burrowed deep and hard, parting the muscles of her vagina with a shatteringly slow thrust, stroking each nerve, each tissue, with destructive pleasure. “Come on, baby. I promise I won’t tattle.”

She knew better. Knew if she dared voice the need he would never be able to keep it to himself.

“Now, Sarah.” He stroked inside her harder, deeper. Then pulled back with such exquisite hesitation her back bowed as she fought to end the sensual torture.

“No. Please, Brock, please take me harder.” She shook her head, tightening on him, her flesh spasming with the need for release. Hot, liquid desire spilled through her vagina, gushing around the pulsing shaft as she begged for more.

“Anything you want, baby,” he crooned an instant before he slammed inside her, hard and fast. “Tell me, Sarah.”

She could hear his control weakening. His cock pulsed, throbbed inside her.

“Oh God, Brock. You’re so thick. So hard.” She shook her head, so immersed in the pleasure, the need to climax, that she was reaching her own breaking point.

“Sarah,” he groaned, fighting for his own control. God help her if he ever found out how weak he made her. How much she wanted to give him what he asked for.

“Tell me.” He retreated until only the head of his cock remained inside her. “God, Sarah, don’t you know I’d give you the universe itself if I could? Just tell me what you want.”

Desperation and pain filled his voice. Sarah’s eyes opened, and she stared into the dark depths of her husband’s tortured gaze.

“I love you, Sarah. More than my own life.” His hands clenched on her hips. Sweat glistened on his face as his expression drew into lines of painful need. “Please, baby. Please don’t hurt anymore.”

And he knew. Tears filled her eyes. It wasn’t just a game. He knew how desperately she needed, he just didn’t know what she needed, and she could see the pain that caused. A pain she wanted to ease, yet she knew that the revelation in words could cause more harm than good.

Her fingers lifted to his cheek, trembling as tears spilled down her own cheeks. She loved him. She needed him. But she needed him whole.

“My heart,” she sobbed, unwilling to hold it back any longer. Her hand fell to his chest, flattened over his heart. “Mine, Brock. My soul and my life. That’s all I want. All of you.” It was as much as she could give. But was it enough?

Brock stilled. His eyes widened. She felt his hands tighten with bruising strength on her hips as something glittered in his eyes.

“Always yours,” he whispered. A second later he was plunging so hard and deep inside her, so fast and desperate, she felt her soul soaring from her body as she erupted around him a second before his climax exploded inside her.

Deep, hard, pulsing spurts of his seed vibrated deep

inside her, throwing her higher as her womb erupted in an orgasm that had her screaming, her head falling back, her pleasure filling the air as her thighs tightened on his, holding him deep, taking every drop of ecstasy he spilled.

They collapsed on the heated wood surrounding the hot tub, their breathing rough, ragged.