Chaper 29

 

 

The Performance

Dominic

Teyonah’s confession broke something in me, causing my control to shatter like glass.

I picked her up fast and brought us over to the kitchen table. In one motion, I swept my arm across the table—sending the fruit bowl crashing to the floor, scattering mail, keys, and whatever other bullshit had been sitting there.

Her gasp cut through the air.

I lifted her onto the table, and her legs automatically parted to make room for me between them. The dress rode up her thighs—those perfect, soft thighs that had wrapped around my waist not even an hour ago.

"Dominic—" She tried again, but I swallowed whatever protest she'd been forming.

My mouth crashed against hers, brutal, claiming, and absolutely unapologetic.

She tasted so damn good.

I'd been craving her taste since she'd walked out of my apartment with that bastard.

Moaning, her hands fisted in my hair, pulling me closer even as her mind probably screamed at her to stop.

But her body knew better.

Her body arched into me, hips rolling forward to seek friction against the hardness straining my jeans.

I bit her bottom lip—hard enough to make her gasp, soft enough not to break skin.

"This pussy belongs to me now," I growled against her mouth. "Say it."

"God—"

"Say. It."

Her head fell back as I dragged my mouth down her throat, teeth scraping against her pulse point.

"Yours," she breathed. "This pussy is yours."

“Perfect.”

Minutes later, her dress was bunched at her waist and her panties tossed to the side.

Teyonah was spread out on the kitchen table like a forbidden feast, and I was starving for her pussy.

The wood groaned under her curves, under the shove of my positioning myself between her thighs.

But I didn’t care if it gave out.

I wanted this fucking table to break.

To never recover from her moans, her surrender, and my erotic destruction.

I wanted to scar and crack the grain with my cock slamming into her.

Yearned to stain the wood with my cum and mark it forever.

Then later, she would never look at that table the same again. It would not be the place where her young kids dropped their homework or ate their bowls of cereal. It would not be the place where her husband Scott slurped his coffee, lust-scrolling on his phone, and ignored her.

From now on, she would see this object as my operating table where she was my only patient.

I looked down at her.

For now my cock was still caged in my pants, but my pierced tongue was hungry and ready to devour her pussy.

I grabbed the dress bunched at her waist, shoved it higher to bare her belly, and locked both hands around the large curvy softness.

Fuck yeah.

Deranged groans ripped from my throat.

Her stomach trembled under my palms, soft, lush, and warm with heat from her arousal.

She flinched and tried to push my hands.

I put them right back on her belly and sneered. “Don’t you ever move my hands again.”

She swallowed.

“Hands at your sides.”

Shivering, she obliged and flattened her palms against the table.

“So perfect.” I caressed her belly slowly, drinking in the dark brown of her skin beneath my hands.

In the moonlight spilling through the window, her stretch marks shimmered like golden-brown streaks across her body.

God yes. I want to rub my cock all over this softness. Finally.

I lowered my head, dragging my wet, pierced tongue along the golden-brown trails, following them as though they were pathways only I had the map for.

Teyonah moaned. “Oh, Dominic. You’re so nasty.”

Fuck yeah. I am.

My tongue traced one stretch mark, then another, cataloging, committing them to memory the way I would for any vital case study.

Only this wasn’t a case.

This was her.

This was Teyonah, and soon she would be mine.

I just had to get rid of her fucking husband.

Do anything and more.

Even if it meant. . .blood would spill.

I pushed away from her belly, ignoring the whimper escaping her lips as my hands and mouth left her skin.

My eyes roved over her frame, taking in the beauty of her curves highlighted by the moonlight slicing through the kitchen window.

She was gorgeous, a goddess lying on that table, bared for me. The sight stirred a carnal hunger deep within my chest, as I reached for the prize that lay between her parted thighs.

My fingers grazed over her folds, and she let out a soft gasp at the contact.

I could feel the heat radiating off her, and the dampness that soaked my fingers spoke volumes of how desperately she needed me. I lowered my head, hovering just above her pussy, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my fingertips.

Mmm. She’s going to be so damn tasty. I can already tell.

As my pierced tongue found her clit, her body jerked upwards, a startled gasp tumbling from her lips.

I held her thighs down with a firm grip, my tongue working its magic on her clit, the metal piercing tapping against it rhythmically.

“Oh. Oh. Oh.” Her moans echoed in the kitchen, filling the room with a symphony of her pleasure, encouraging my relentless assault.

Then came that distinct creaking sound.

It was faint, emanating from the floor above us.

Scott is back up and moving.

But Teyonah was having too much of a good time to notice.

A wild surge of adrenaline shot through me at the realization.

It was a thrilling sense of danger.

An added layer of forbidden excitement that sent my blood pulsing faster through my veins.

I pushed back from her, gripped the edge of the table, and began to move it.

The legs screeched softly against the tile.

“Dominic?” Her voice was breathless, confused.

I didn’t answer.

I twisted the heavy table with both hands, rotating it until its long side faced the doorway that led to the staircase.

The wood groaned.

She blinked at me. “What are you doing?”

“Just in case someone comes down, I want to see.” I kissed her. “Don’t worry. I’ll move it back after you come.”

Before she could say anything, I was kissing her intensely letting her know that this was the way it would be.

She moaned, “Oh fuck. . .Dominic. . .”

Groaning, I pulled back from her lips and glanced behind her.

From this angle, I could see everything—every step, every possible intrusion.

The control settled over me like armor.

The rush in my veins was no longer only desire. It was something far more dangerous—possession meeting vigilance.

Now the house was divided into two worlds: the sleeping, chaotic one upstairs, and the charged, orgasmic one here under my watch.

But there was a third world I hadn't accounted for.

Movement caught my peripheral vision—not from the stairs, but from the window behind Teyonah's shoulder. The house next door. Mrs. Patterson's living room window, directly across from this kitchen.

The lights were still on, warm yellow spilling across her curtains.

And those curtains moved.

Not from wind. From someone pulling back just enough to see, then jerking away when they realized I'd looked up.

She'd been watching.

A slow smile crossed my face.

Let her watch.

Let the whole goddamn neighborhood know by morning.

Slowly, I worked my way down again, tracing the curves of her hips, the crease of her thighs. The scent of her arousal filled my nostrils.

The sight of her wetness glistening in the moonlight was a vision that would stay etched into my memory forever.

I paused for a moment, drinking in the view, my cock throbbing in my pants, aching to be buried back deep within her again.

But not yet, first I wanted to taste her, wanted to edge her on with my piercing.

Lowering my head, I glided the metal bulb over her folds, tasting her intoxicating sweetness.

And that was when I noticed that the lights across the way went dark.

You naughty old nosy woman. Do you like what you see?

Mrs. Patterson's living room went suddenly black, yet I could clearly see her shape in the window as she leaned closer.

She’d shut those lights off, not because she was going to bed.

This was deliberate.

Voyeuristically calculated.

She was settling in to watch and hoping I couldn’t see her in the darkness.

Grinning a little, I lapped at Teyonah’s clit some more.

The thought of being observed sent electricity down my spine.

The neighborhood busybody, the church lady who probably clutched her pearls at the mere mention of impropriety, was standing in her darkened living room watching me devour Teyonah's pussy on her kitchen table.

Good. Watch what a real man does for his woman.

When a person realizes they’re being watched, and likes it. . .those same heady hormones flood in.

Adrenaline.

Cortisol.

Dopamine.

The perfect storm of danger and want.

The quickening pulse.

The heat crawling up my neck.

The sharp alertness that came from exposure.

The risk made every sense keener.

With this audience, I devoured Teyonah’s pussy even more, making sure I gave a good show and the nosy neighbor jealous as fuck.

That’s right. Look at what my queen deserves.  

Teyonah gasped, her body trembling beneath me.

The silver bulb on my tongue traced intricate patterns on her sensitive flesh, teasing her clit, drawing out her pleasure.

Mmmm.

The human body was an orchestra of nerve endings, and the female clitoris contained over eight thousand sensory fibers, all converging into one perfect nexus. Every pass of the piercing against that network wasn’t random—it was a determined stimulus, an erotic neurological dialogue between pleasure and release.

Her body responded exactly as expected.

Accelerated breathing.

Muscular tremors.

Soft, involuntary sounds escaped her throat.

I lifted my mouth from her clit. “Do you like how I lick your pussy, Mommy?”

“God yes!”

“Am I being a good boy?”

“Such a good boy. Keep licking this pussy.”

“Okay, Mommy.” I went back to work, lapping and licking.

Her arousal painted my chin as I dove deeper, seeking her pleasure.

Beneath me, Teyonah was a beautiful spectacle of pure passion, her body moving in sync with my tongue. There was a rawness to it, a brutal honesty that only intimacy could bring out. As I watched her writhe and heard her gasp, I realized just how right this felt.

I drew back slightly, watching as a shudder ran through her body at the sudden absence of contact.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips parted in hunger.

"Mommy," I growled against her swollen clit, the word vibrating through the metal bead on my tongue. "Is it time for me to fuck you yet?"

Her fingers dug into my shoulders. "Yes. Please."

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck me like a good little boy.”

“Mmm.”

“Make Mommy come all over over your cock.”

Pre-cum spilled from my cock.

Rising from between her thighs, I took a moment to gaze upon her. Her eyes were glazed with lust, her lips swollen and wet. Her breasts heaved with each ragged breath she took.

She was all woman, all want, all mine.

Unzipping my jeans, I reached inside to free my aching cock.

The cool air hit my heated flesh, making me hiss.

Movement flashed from my peripheral and I saw Mrs. Patterson right in the center of the window, clearly trying to get an even better view of my cock. So much that. . .she didn’t even care if she would get caught.

Do you see my cock? Do you like how it looks? Do you wish you were Teyonah?

My gaze returned to Teyonah and locked on her.

“Finally.” I began to stroke myself in front of Teyonah, Mrs. Patterson, and anybody else that was up tonight and had a good view.

Hot anticipation surged with each slow pull of my hand.

It was exquisite agony.

“Mmm.” I groaned, my body aching with the need to mark Teyonah.

I yearned to desecrate that flawless skin with my release, to watch it slide down the curves of her breasts like hot white wax dripping down a temple idol. The thought of claiming her that way—pristine brown flesh defiled by my essence—made primal madness brutally twist inside me.

I sneered at her. “Look at my cock.”

Teyonah obliged.

“You’ve been teasing it since I moved in.”

A wicked smirk spread across her lusty face.

“Bad Mommy. I should make you suck on it first.”

“You know I will, baby.”

“Mmm.”

“Mommy could suck it good.”

“Fuckkkk.”

More movement came again at the side.

Mrs. Patterson now had her head pressed against the window’s glass.

So horny and ready to bust, I angled my cock toward Mrs. Patterson to let her see what she could never have.

There you go, so you don’t have to squint. Look at this.

My fist worked over my cock in vicious strokes, each twist of my wrist drawing a groan from somewhere deep and primal. I caught the movement in the shadows—the nosy woman’s eyes watching—and my body responded instantly, hardening even further until it was goddamn unbearable.

Yet, I slowed my pace, putting on a show now, letting Teyonah and our neighbor see how I liked to torture myself, and ready my cock for my woman.

How I hovered at that razor's edge between ecstasy and agony.

Then, Teyonah yanked me out of control. “Stop playing with yourself, baby. Fuck, Mommy.”

“Dear Goddd.” I let go of my cock, put a firm grip on her hips, and aligned my cock at her wet, throbbing entrance. “You want this cock, Mommy?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Fuck me good, baby.” A low moan slipped from her lips as I pushed my cock deep into her, and those soaked inner walls parted for me, welcoming my cock with a wet, velvety warmth that had my head spinning.

“Oh, God, Mommy. Your pussy is so tight.” I groaned low and fell forward, burying my face in her neck.

“Oh, baby.”

“Shit, Mommy. I can fuck you forever.” I thrust deep within her over and over.

“Good boy.”

I reached up to cup her bouncing breasts, my fingers pinching and rolling her hardened nipples.

Her breath hitched, her body arching into my touch.

My cock’s rhythm became erratic, spurred by the desperate need to claim her completely, to mark her as my own. “Tell me how much you love this cock, Mommy.”

“I love it so much.”

“Say it again.”

She moaned, “Your cock, baby. . .it’s so damn perfect.”

I drove into her. “That’s right, Mommy, and this cock belongs to you.”

“Oh.”

I groaned, the urge to spill inside her nearly overwhelming, “and this pussy. . .this pussy is all mine.”

“Such a good boy,” she whimpered.

Those words made me feel like a goddamn king, I fucked into her harder and faster. The sounds of our bodies colliding reverberated around the room, joining the chorus of our groans and moans. The scent of our mingled arousal filled the air.

Her delicious pussy clenched and released around my cock, milking me.

Suddenly, the creaking sounded above us became louder, more persistent.

It wasn't hard to deduce that Scott was definitely leaving the bedroom.

But I didn’t give a fuck.

Come here, Scott. Let me show you how you should have fucked your wife.

The primal instinct within me was growing stronger, the sight of her beneath me was intoxicating.

"Oh, Mommy," I groaned, "Your pussy feels so fucking good."

She gasped and those tight walls clenched around my cock even more in response.

I could feel the tremors running through her body, each one sending electric jolts of pleasure shooting through my veins.

"Do you like that, Mommy? Do you like how my cock feels inside you?"

"Oh God, yes."

The thrill of her surrender damn near broke me.

"You're so fucking wet, Mommy. So tight.” I pumped my cock harder, deeper, loving the feel of her wet pussy. “So fucking perfect."

Her moans grew louder, filling the otherwise silent kitchen. She was so lost in the pleasure that she wasn’t even trying to keep quiet.

And she was meeting my thrusts, moving that pussy in sync with my cock.

I moved faster, each thrust causing the table beneath us to shake violently in sync with our desperate rhythm.

The tempo of our bodies echoed.

"Tell me again who this pussy belongs to, Mommy."

“You.”

“Me?”

"Yes, baby.”

My eyes flicked to the window.

Mrs. Patterson's silhouette continued to be visible against the faint glow from deeper in her house. She stood close to the glass, one hand braced against the window frame.

The other hand. . .

I couldn't see details, but I didn't need to. The rhythmic movement of her shoulder, the way her head tilted back slightly, the stillness everywhere except that one arm.

She was touching herself.

The pious neighbor.

The judgmental observer.

Reduced to maddening horniness.

The power of it—of being watched, of being the catalyst for her forbidden pleasure—sent blissful lust through my body.

Then, I heard a heavy creak on the stairs and looked that way, still pumping my cock into Teyonah’s wet, warm pussy and loving every thrust.

And what do we have here?

Groaning, I focused my view to the staircase.

The darkness beyond loomed ominously, threatening to burst forth with an unwanted presence at any moment.

Scott's presence.

But the taste of danger fueled my arousal, making everything more intense.

More intoxicating.

With every push inside her, I growled, "Who's your good boy, Mommy?"

"You are, Dominic."

I played with those nipples as I fucked her. "Tell me what my cock does to you."

"It. . .makes me. . .crazy.”

“Fuck yeah.”

I moved my hands from her breasts and gripped her hips, keeping her steady even as the table continued its violent dance beneath us. "That's because your body knows it's mine. It hungers for me as much as I hunger for you."

“Y-yes.”

A possessive, savage growl rumbled in my throat.

Another creak sounded.

Fucking Teyonah even harder, I looked up.

And that was when I saw him.

Scott.

On the stairs.

Mmmm.