Page 19 of Saving Grace

I did something all right, like before, I spread my legs further apart, letting him slide even deeper.

He moved slow at first, taking his time to slide the full length of his cock in and out of me as he insulted my husband, saying things like “You didn’t deserve this pussy. You couldn’t handle this pussy. I ought to kill you for even touching this pussy.”

Then he sped up, dipping his knees, his taunts got more vulgar and mean.

“Your wife’s about to cum all over my dick.”

He spread my ass so he could go even deeper.

“You’re about to cum for me aren’t you, baby? Your pussy was starving for this dick wasn’t it?” They weren’t rhetorical questions. When I didn't answer Atticus wrapped his hands around my locs, using them like ropes he tugged them, snatching my head back and forcing an answer from me.

“Yes, and yes"

I would have said anything he wanted me to say at that moment.

I kept my eyes closed though, not wanting to see my husband’s reaction.

I felt ashamed because I wasn’t ashamed of what I was allowing to be done to me.

How could I be? It felt so fucking good.

What sounded like from a distance far away I could hear Marcus protest and threaten us. “I’m going to kill you and that whore. You dirty bitch, I should have never married you.” He hurled insult after insult, but he never attempted to stop what was happening.

I’m sure that had everything to do with the gun that sat next to my head on the desk, with Atticus’ finger hovering on the trigger.

A deep stroke caused my eyes to roll into the back of my head. I was close. Grinding myself against Atticus, I chased bliss.

Marcus and Atticus were carrying on a full-blown screaming match, but I could barely make out the words. My body had taken over, all I could do was feel. My nerve endings were firing on all cylinders

Atticus sped up. Going deeper, each time he pushed into me the thick vein that ran the length of his dick massaged my g-spot.

His thrusts became harder.

My legs started to shake. My head fell forward onto the desk.

Suddenly I was cumming and hard, drenching both me and Atticus. I could feel it on a cellular level. Singing in my blood like a long-forgotten song. I could hardly catch my breath. I gripped the desk so hard one of my nails broke, pulling away from skin.

Atticus massaged my hips. Petting me through my bliss.

“Good girl,” he rasped. “Give me my nut.” Then he directed a comment to Marcus. “You see your wife cumming on my dick. Tell her how pretty she looks cumming for me.” During his taunts, Atticus’ voice wavered as his cock jerked inside me. He held me there, filling me until I could feel his cum dripping down my thighs.

Atticus.

Grace pushed me off her and hurried into the bathroom soon as she stopped quivering under me. With my dick still covered in our cum and cocky grin on my face I tapped the intercom, connecting myself to Tank's office “Could you please come and escort Mr. Davis from the building. The entire time I could see that the fight had left the other man, now he just stood glaring at me, looking as if he wanted to rip my head off. He wouldn’t. I had the gun, therefore the upper hand.

Tank opened the door and walked in. “Wha—" He stopped mid-sentence. His head snapped to the side. His hand rose to cover his eyes. “Why would you call me in here while your dick is out, and my next question? Why is your dick out while he is here?”

Ignoring his question, I ordered “Have somebody drive Mr. Davis to Miami, take his wallet and phone and leave him there.”

“I’m not going to fucking Miami” Marcus protested, the words less slurred. The drugs were wearing off. “Take me back to — "

Tank cut him off, grabbing him roughly by the collar. He shoved him towards the door.

“Just shut the fuck up and come the fuck on.”

Tank glanced over his shoulder making sure his eyes didn’t go below my neck. “I have a few questions for you when I get back.”

He slammed the door behind himself.