I push open the bedroom door, the dim glow from the bedside lamp catching the edges of her body sprawled across our king-sized bed. There she is, my wife, in that black lace lingerie that hugs her curves like a second skin—thong panties barely covering her pussy, the bra pushing her tits up high, nipples already hard and poking through the sheer fabric. She's on her back, one leg bent, her dark hair fanned out on the pillow, looking every bit the temptress she knows drives me wild.
She catches my eye and smiles slow, her full lips parting as she runs a hand down her stomach, fingers tracing the lace edge over her hip. 'Come here, baby,' she whispers, her voice husky, gesturing with a crook of her finger. Her eyes burn with that bold seduction, like she's daring me to forget everything else. But I can't. Not after last night.
As I step closer, the memory slams into me—the party, the way I hung back in the shadows, watching her laugh too easy with that slick bookie I owe money to. He cornered her in that secluded spot by the bar, his hand on her waist, whispering shit in her ear. I followed when she slipped out to the parking lot with him, hidden behind a row of cars. Saw him yank her top off, her bra exposed under the streetlight, his mouth crashing onto hers. Their tongues tangled, her hands in his hair, until some drunk stumbled by and broke the moment. She fixed her top quick, cheeks flushed, and bolted back inside like nothing happened. But I saw it all. That betrayal stings hot in my gut.
Jealous fury boils up, mixing with the hard ache in my cock. She's mine, damn it, and no smooth-talking asshole is gonna touch what's mine. I climb onto the bed, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head with one hand. She gasps, but her eyes light up, like she senses the rage. I lean down, sinking my teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, biting hard enough to mark her. 'You think you can tease like that and get away with it?' I growl against her skin, my free hand ripping at the lace bra, snapping it open so her tits spill free.
She arches under me, moaning low. 'What are you talking about?' But there's a flicker in her eyes—guilt, maybe, or excitement at pushing me this far. Her legs part instinctively, the black thong riding up between her thighs, showing the wet spot already soaking through.
I don't answer, just shove her thighs wider with my knee, my fingers hooking into the thong and yanking it aside. Her pussy's bare and glistening, lips swollen and ready. 'That bookie had his hands all over you last night,' I snarl, slapping her inner thigh hard, the sound sharp in the room. 'Saw him kiss you, strip your top off like you were his slut.' My cock throbs against my jeans, straining to get free.
Her breath hitches, but she doesn't deny it—instead, she bucks her hips up, grinding against my hand as I slide two fingers into her slick heat. 'He was just flirting,' she breathes, voice trembling with need. 'But you... you're the one I want fucking me.' Her words fuel the fire, that public teasing bullshit making me want to claim her rougher.
I unzip my pants, shoving them down just enough to pull my cock out—thick and veined, pre-cum already beading at the tip. She's staring at it, licking her lips, her bound hands twisting in my grip. I position myself at her entrance, rubbing the head along her wet slit, teasing her clit until she whimpers. 'Say it,' I demand, voice rough. 'Tell me you're mine.
''I'm yours,' she gasps, eyes locked on mine, that seductive gleam turning desperate. 'Only yours. Fuck me, please.
'I thrust in hard, burying my cock to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Her pussy clenches around me, hot and tight, sucking me deeper as she cries out. No gentle warmup tonight—this is raw, urgent, my hips slamming into hers with possessive force. The bed creaks under us, her tits bouncing with every pound, nipples grazing my chest.
She wraps her legs around my waist, heels digging into my ass, pulling me in harder. 'Yes, like that,' she moans, her nails scraping my shoulders when I release her wrists. 'Harder, baby. Show me.' Her teasing from the party echoes in my head, that image of her smooching him, and I fuck her fiercer, one hand fisting her hair to yank her head back, exposing her throat again. I bite down there too, sucking a bruise into her skin while my cock pistons in and out, stretching her pussy wide.
Sweat slicks our bodies, the room filling with the wet slap of skin on skin, her gasps turning to sharp cries. I reach between us, thumbing her clit roughly, feeling her walls flutter around me. 'You like making me jealous?' I grunt, driving deeper, hitting that spot that makes her scream. 'Flirting with that bastard in the parking lot, letting him taste you?
'She shudders, her hands clawing at my back. 'It turned me on... thinking of you watching,' she admits breathlessly, her confession like gasoline on my rage. 'Made me wet for you.
'That does it—I flip her over onto her stomach, yanking her hips up so her ass is in the air, the ruined lingerie tangled around her waist. I spread her cheeks, spitting on her puckered hole before slamming back into her pussy from behind. My balls slap against her clit with each thrust, and she buries her face in the pillow, muffling her moans that sound half pain, half ecstasy.
I grip her hips bruisingly, pounding relentlessly, the jealousy twisting into pure dominance. Her body's trembling, close to the edge, but I don't let up—want her to feel every inch of my claim. 'Cum for me,' I order, slapping her ass hard, the red mark blooming under my palm. 'Show me who owns this pussy.
'She's sobbing now, pushing back against me, her fingers twisting the sheets. The tension builds, her walls gripping my cock like a vice, but I hold off, drawing it out, making her beg in that lingerie that's now just shreds clinging to her sweat-damp skin.
