Shark (Wall Street Beasts 1)

“Fucckkkkk!”

She gasped and grunted as her husband made passionate love to her, using the tip of his tongue to toy with the nub of her clit, firing all the little nerve endings at once in a cascade of pure pleasure.

She was soaked, her writhing hips helping spread her inner wetness across her inner thighs. Alex held them parted and lashed his tongue over her puffy sex. She was so very ready to be fucked and claimed, taken away from the concerns of the world with rough, surging strokes which branded her as his, and his alone.

It was safe to say that he had recovered, though he would always bear the scar of their wedding day on his belly. The conspiracies, the lies, they didn't matter when his flesh merged with hers, his perfect cock finding that owned niche between her legs and pushing up inside her until she was stretched deliciously wide around him.

He kissed her and cupped her face in his hands, holding her there on her back as he arched hips and began to surge inside her over and over again, driving deep into her tightest, most sacred spots, a husband claiming his wife after long carnal absence.

It had been far too long since they last made love. First she had been in recovery after her surgery, and then his wounds had taken their own sweet time to heal. Now they were both at full strength and eager to unleash the full power of the chemistry which had drawn them together upon one another.

“Fucking hot little body,” he growled down at her, lowering his head to graze his teeth over her neck.

Sophie had begun her life with Alex as a puppet, nothing more than a piece of bait dangled before the notorious shark. He had taken that bait. He had taken her and he had transformed her personally and sexually.

Now he arched back, took her legs and pushed them up, put her pussy on lewd display and surged inside her again, making her feel every inch of his dominant cock as it charted the depths of her soaking channel.

She was still bait. She was still a puppet. There were unseen strings which threatened to pull at her limbs and make her dance, but they were only partly in control. The secrets she had to keep from Alex were infinitesimal compared to the sea of lies in which they both continued to swim.

“Stay with me, Sophie,” Alex growled dominantly, fucking her harder for a few much needed rough strokes, drawing her attention back from the brink of madness and making her focus entirely on the physicality of what was taking place, a ravaging of flesh which made her quake and tremble, and drove all thoughts from her head besides those which revolved around how fucking hot her husband was, and how much she loved him.

“Sophie…" Alex warned her, grasping her face in his palm, he directed her eyes to his again.

“I’m here! I'm here!" she promised.

"Yes. You are," he agreed, pulling her up from the bed entirely and tossing her back down on her stomach.

This time he came for her ass, using the lubricant of sweat and her own slick arousal to penetrate the tight ring of her rear.

“Oh my fucking…” she grunted with surprise and desire.

"I told you I was going to fuck your ass again," Alex growled, holding her in place, one hand on the back of her neck, the other wresting an arm over her back. He had her pinned tight as he worked himself inside her dark little hole, reclaiming her with slow, steady, loving strokes.

There were no words. There were just animal sounds, grunts and moans and the groaning that came with sex which bordered the boundary of pleasure and pain. She felt herself jolted against the bed over and over, every time Alex’s thick cock went a little deeper, claimed her a little more, and reminded her who she belonged to forever.

“You’re mine,” he growled, ragged desperation in his voice. “You’re fucking mine.”

“I’m yours,” she moaned back. “I’m yours. I’m yours!”

He knew that they were desperate words from two desperate souls, clinging to one another amid the turmoil of their circumstances. Alex was powerful beyond the imagination of most men, but all men were made weak by love, and he was no exception.

His love had made him choose her all over again. She may have been made for him, but he had made her his own. He was determined that whatever traces of Indigo were left inside her would soon be burned away in the intensity of their love.

Alex adored the way she felt wrapped around his cock. In these moments of twisted intimacy, the hot ring of her rear gripping him tight while her greedy little cunt dripped desire all over them both, there was no doubt as to who was in control. He would fuck every bit of her old programming out of her. He would set her free, and then he would capture her all over again.