Licked & Savoured

Sergey Ivanov grew up in a weird band of siblings. He thought so anyway. From a young age he felt different from his twin brother and younger half sister. Not better though. Yet at the rate things were going, he might as well have claimed it.

While his younger twin was cut off and estranged, his baby sister was… well, whatever she was. She was still financially taken cared of, but the relationship between her and their father was strained ever since he realized she was trying to get in his good graces by helping him get with his current wife. After that, when the two got together, she tried her best to separate them again.

It was a mind-fuck to say the least, but Sergey just did what he always did—respect his hardworking father and work towards building a life he would be happy in.

Only one of those were working right now. Respecting his father. Through that, he gained the family business when the old man retired due to an on-job incident. In other words, he was rich and the new big dog in his family. Not the biggest—his father held that title even in retirement—but his words carried weight as did his position. He was still learning, having to call his father in from time to time to assist him in decisions and negotiation meetings.

He was humble enough to admit it.

But when it came to other aspects of his life, it felt a lot less fruitful, a lot less supported.

Was it because his wife didn’t know what dark activities and underhanded deals he had to make to give her the luxurious life she lived? Or was it the fact that—he found this hard to admit—he didn’t love her.

Actually, he barely found her attractive.

He had to watch porn to get himself this hard to begin with. In fact, he secretly had his phone playing a video of a woman getting her pussy ate as he used the other hand to hold his wife in place as he pushed in and out of her from behind.

She was going manic. Head overtly thrashing, hair pulling, gripping the sheets—the whole nine yards. One would say she was doing too much… but this was truly what she was like in bed. Every time. All the time.

It nearly made Sergey soften inside her, but he increased the volume of his earbud just so he could hear the amateur pornstar moan from the pleasure of having her real-life husband suckle her clit.

“Baby, I’m…ah… I’m close. So close,” Ingrid—his wife—warned as she bounced against him faster by the second.

Sergey mentally thanked God and picked up speed.

Was it always like this? Not really. In fact, despite never loving Ingrid to begin with, Sergey liked and respected her. It just took deeds throughout their marriage to fill him with distaste for her. What were those things? He had to keep his mind from them now or he’d go completely soft before she would get to finish.

But one was how she was in bed and her views on sex. She refused eye contact, she refused face to face in general and when it came to anything pertaining to anything but doggy style with the lights on, she would tantrum like a five-year-old. Worse than their twins at that—who were actually five.

“Cumming, cumming! Oh Lord, I’m cumming so hard.”

… The man nearly softened right then and there. He clicked his phone screen off and dropped it on the bed beside him and allowed Ingrid to orgasm using his slowly softening member.

By the time she was down, so was he.

“Did you cum, honey?” she asked as she eased off and turned to look up at him. Her smile was bright as she took him in all his shirtless glory. Dark hair to his broad shoulders, stony-green eyes that could either turn a woman to putty or a man into stone and a light scar through his left brow that told he either experienced fights often or wasn’t afraid to throw down.

He was gorgeous, like a Conan the Barbarian, but in a suit (when he wore one, of course).

“I did,” he lied easily, a fabrication he’s had to tell her almost throughout all their marriage. “You did well, Ingrid.”

“Thank you!” her tone was as peppy as ever, but the satiation in her voice was evident. She indeed enjoyed every second of the sex she just had. “I’m going to go shower, okay? Be right back.”

She leapt out of bed and walked widely like a waddling penguin to the bathroom. The shower began in no time, and Sergey was… annoyed.

Not by his wife, but by the mistake of making her that. He wished he’d have listened to his father. But he never understood it when he had married a woman much like her long ago. His father’s first wife, Cecelia.

She was beautiful, smart, great for business and even better for public appearance.

His wife was that. Though not a sunshine blonde with emerald eyes like his mother, she was a strawberry blonde with a crystal blue gaze. She had a business brain and made wonderful eye candy at any function. Thin and petite with just enough womanly curves to admire in a skin tight dress.

That was what he grew to see and understood.

But now, the very man he saw this behaviour from was currently in his late fifties with a plus-sized, darkskinned, twenty-something-year-old, Jamaican woman on his arm in every room he went with the biggest smile on his face and eyes that never left her for even a second. The old man was smitten, whipped and obsessed.

Sergey was thirty-two years of age; he didn’t even want to be forty before he got to have the happiness his father finally found. But how would he get it now when he hadn’t taken his father’s several warnings and already had three children with a woman he wouldn’t mind never seeing again?

“Baby! Can you leave your card with me before you go to work?” his wife’s voice came, pausing the running water just so she could hear his answer clearly.

Sergey ran a hand through his hair and tried to bite down his frustration. “Which one?”

“The black one, please!”

Of course. He climbed off the king-sized bed and walked over to his work slacks that were hung on the closet door. After fishing out his card, he tossed it on the dresser. “It’s next to your perfume bottle. I’m going to shower in the guest bathroom.”

“Thanks, baby. Love you!”

He nearly responded that she loved the money, not him. Her shrivelled heart would’ve have gave out if she knew the things he did for his riches, for his family name. But he bit it down and pulled on his slacks before going to his kids’ rooms and washing his hands in one of the bathrooms before going to touch them.

First to the eldest—his seven-year-old son, Maximilian. He kissed the little troublemaker atop his head before going to the twin girls’ room, Leighton and Brionna. After admiring them for a moment, he kissed their cheeks then actually got himself ready for work.

Those small visits to his three prides and joys made him look forward to his day, to get over with it as quick as possible just so he can get back home and have some quality time.

He just had to make it through the day first.