MY COCK was hard and throbbing against my zipper, my balls so full it hurt.
I needed her. I always needed her, I'm noticing.
The constant need to be inside her, to make love to her is overwhelming.
I'm only me when I'm in her.
That's not healthy, I'm sure. But I don't want to dwell on it. Don't want to acknowledge that I am dependent on her.
I take her hand and lead her to my room, locking the door behind me.
"Salvatore, what about Apple?"
I look at her funny. "What about apples?"
"Our son, Salvatore. What about him?"
Fire rushes through my veins at her words. Our son. Ours.
"He will be fine, cara. Besides, we are in the room next to him."
I don't give her time to reply. The haze blurs the sides of my vision, creeping in.
I lift her in my arms, throw her on the bed.
I crawl between her legs, kissing her.
I don't usually kiss women. If and when I fuck them, that's all I do. I fuck.
But my wife, she deserves better. I want to give her better. I need to give her better.
But above all, I want to kiss her lips. I want to taste her mouth.
As the kiss gets heated, her hips start to buck, rising to meet mine.
I groan, the need to release nearly killing me.
The haze starts to take over my line of sight completely, which is the problem with making love to Delphine.
I'm halfway there and halfway where I wish to be.
It's always with her, but one impossible.
"Salvatore, please. Fuck me!"
The haze has consumed me, desecrating my filter in the process. My control has been snatched; Whatever I want to say, to do, to feel, I do.
I can only watch and listen to myself as if I am removed in a way.
"Patience," I tell her, smiling lovingly, "I will make love to you, my wife."
I unwrap her like a child does a present on Christmas morning; tearing at the wrapping, desperate to get to the gift inside.
Her clothes are destroyed, but I don't care.
Like a magic trick, I am bare to her in a moment.
I kiss her body, every gorgeous inch of it. I tell her she's beautiful, tell her I think she is a goddess. Apologize for being who I am.
Then I enter her, my whole body sighing in relief.
To be inside her is heaven...
I plunge myself deep inside her and revel in the tight warmth that grips me.
She claws at my back impatiently, trying to force me to move. Smiling, I kiss her once more before moving at a pace I didn't think I was capable of.
I stroke in and out of her, each movement brushing against every part of her warm pussy.
I lay kisses on her neck, and collarbone, before burying my face in her neck.
Slowly, sweetly, I make love to her; her fingers thread my hair as she draws closer to climax.
"Salvatore! Oh..." a low contented moan leaves her, and she laxes under me.
Now that I have given her pleasure, I allow myself the same.
I empty my load inside her, filling her to the brim with my seed.
I let my seed soak into her womb, hoping, wishing to impregnate her.
I want her to have my babies. I want her to be my wife forever. I want her to sleep with me, in our room.
I want to make love to her, without her feeling like a whore.
I don't pull out even as I grow soft inside her. I turned her over, placing her on my chest, wrapping her in my arms.
I couldn't let go of her warm pussy, my home, so I went to sleep just like that.
I WAKE UP the next morning to an empty bed, which is ironic because I usually leave her.
I do not fear death, Husband. In fact, most days, I plead for it. You still don't scare me.
I sigh, glad her personality isn't dead all the way. Still, most of that statement causes concern.
Sitting up against the headboard, I rest my head in my hands.
"Mamma? You okay?" I hear Apollo say fearfully.
My body gets kicked into gear.
Why wouldn't she be okay?
Who the hell gave her permission to leave my bed, anyway?
I find her laid out on the bathroom floor, a sickly pallor about her.
"Papa, what's wrong with Mamma?" He cries, rubbing his eyes with his little fists.
"I don't know my son, but I'm sure she's fine —"
The sound of retching, discount my comfort. I send Apollo to get my phone.
She needs a doctor.
"Delphine, what's wrong?" she groans, blabbering nonsensically.
"Baby, what happened?"
"You," I hear her say. "You happened."
And then I know I made a grievous mistake.
"Exactly, " she says, and then she passes out.