Lena Hendrix

The first time my husband made me come, he was six feet away and never even touched me.

“You have no clue, do you?” The edge of his voice raced through me. “No fucking clue how often I think of you.”

He’s the home I’ve been searching for.

“Oh god Wyatt. This dick—” He was setting a delicious, brutal pace, fucking me hard, just as he promised.
“Maybe next time I’ll even let you gag on it.”

“Tell me you want me to feel the back of your throat with this cock.”
Lark took me in one hand, then smiled and licked the bead of precum from the head of my dick. “I want it. I want every inch of you.”
“Is that right? You want me so deep you gag and then I feed you another inch?”

Now, I would hate to disrespect a man in his family home, but that’s the mother of my child you’re speaking to. If you can’t speak to her with respect, then you speak to me.

Some of us can see beauty in what others would call trash. Even something broken can be loved.”