Chapter 5

Author’s note- Thank you so much for reading! I truly hope you enjoyed this story, and I so appreciate you taking the time to spend with these characters. Your support on Patreon makes writing these stories possible, and every comment, like, and pledge keeps my heart full and my muse happy. Thank you for being here!

- MJ

A thousand thoughts are bouncing around in my head, like a crazy cocktail of confusion, disbelief, and this weird, dark excitement.

What in the hell was that?

Marcus looks at me, then back at Emma, a dark eyebrow raised in question.

“Daddy?’’

Emma’s face turns the color of a ripe tomato, a visible blush that spreads from her cheeks to her neck to the tips of her ears. Her breath comes in short, embarrassed pants.

“I ... I didn’t ... mean that. I don’t ... I don’t know why I said that.”

Marcus looks at me again, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, well ... looks like your little lady is kinkier than you might think, Mike.”

Emma’s eyes find mine, and I know, without a doubt, that she’s never been more mortified in her life. I’ve never seen her this embarrassed, this flustered.

She covers her face with her hand, her body curling inward as if trying to disappear. “Just ... ignore it. It was nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing, was it?

I want to agree with Marcus. Kinkier than we thought? Damn straight.

Did I hear her right? Daddy? She’d never hinted at anything like that before, not in all the conversations we’ve had, not in all the fantasies we’ve shared.

Did she even realize she was going to say it???

It just... spilled out. A subconscious desire, a hidden fantasy, maybe, released in the heat of the moment.

And the realization sends a shiver of something dark and exciting down my spine.

“It just ... ca-came out.” She continues to mumble, her words muffled by her hand. “It ... it doesn’t mean anything. Really.’’

“Unexpected,” his grin widens, “but I like it. How about you call me again, Emma?”

“No!” She lowers her hand, her eyes wide with panic. “God, no. It just ... slipped out. It’s not ... it’s not like that.”

He leans in close, his gaze intense, demanding. “Come on, sweetheart. Say it again.”

She swallows hard, her throat working. “ I ... I can’t.”

But Marcus isn’t one to be easily denied.

He pulls his cock free from her pussy with a soft, sucking sound, leaving her panting, frustrated. Then he stands up, towering over her.

“We’re not going any further until you say it.”

“But ... Uhh ... I ... uh ... Marcus, come on ... let’s just ... forget about it.”

“I am not asking, sweetheart.’’ He stands there, unyielding, his massive cock a taunting reminder of the pleasure she’s being denied. “You want this to continue? Then say it.’’

“But I’m so close...” She squirms on the couch, her hips bucking instinctively against the empty space where he was moments ago. “I can feel it, Marcus ... I am right there... ”

“Say the word, Emma. And I’m all yours.’’

“It’s just ... it’s embarrassing.”

“So? We’re way past embarrassing, wouldn’t you say?”

“But I don’t ... I don’t ... Let’s just ... keep going, okay? Please?”

“Then we’re done.”

She looks like a child denied a treat, her lower lip trembling, her eyes filled with frustration that quickly morphs into a raw, desperate need.

I know that look. It’s the same look she gets when I’m inside her, driving her wild, pushing her to the edge, the look of someone about to shatter, to come undone. She’s caught between the shame and the desire, the societal programming and the primal urge, and it’s a battle she’s losing.

She bites her lip— hard—and I wince, knowing she’s drawing blood again. She turns to look at me, her eyes pleading, searching- looking for what... guidance? ... permission?

There’s a vulnerability there, a raw honesty that cuts through all the bullshit and leaves her bare.

And despite the obvious signs of her arousal, the way she arches towards Marcus, her fingers clutching at the cushions ... I know she’s still holding back... a lot.

There are layers to this, to her.

We need to talk, really talk, about the things she’s afraid to say, the fantasies she’s kept hidden, the desires that both thrill and terrify her. And the complicated truth of who we are ... who we’re becoming.

But that conversation can wait.

“Em...” My voice is soft and reassuring. “It’s okay. Let go. This is ... this is what we both want, right?’’ I reach out, my hand hovering over hers, not touching, not yet. “Don’t hold back. Not anymore. I love you. No matter what.”

She just looks at me, her eyes wide, uncertain. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, trapped in the prison of her own making. I can see the wheels turning, and the calculations being made.

I know where her hesitation comes from. I’ve been there, in that same place, torn between desire and fear, between the familiar comforts of our past and the dangerous allure of the unknown.

It is a crazy situation. It’s not something I ever would have predicted, never would have thought I’d want.

“I’m not going to wait forever, dear.” Marcus’s voice cuts through the silence. He slaps his cock against her pussy, a sharp, demanding sound that makes her jump.

Emma is hyperventilating now, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes darting between him and me, a trapped animal.

“Mike?” He looks at me, his eyes dark, and intense. “You think ... you think your wife should go for it?”

Her gaze snaps to mine. I see the desperation in her eyes, the need to please him, the longing for the release he offers.

I nod jerkily, my throat tight.

Her body is still humming with the aftershocks of her last orgasm, her senses heightened, her inhibitions lowered. But something is holding her back, a wall she’s not ready to break down, a fear that goes beyond mere embarrassment.

She wants this. I know she wants it. Wants to let go again, to feel that rush of pleasure, the obliteration of the self.

Seconds tick by, feeling like fucking forever. I’m watching her, my heart pounding like a drum, breath catching in my throat. I can see the struggle in her eyes, the battle between what she wants and what she thinks she should want. It’s like she’s on the edge of a cliff, deciding whether to jump or step back.

The air is thick with tension, every sound amplified—the rustle of fabric, the distant hum of the city outside, the soft, ragged breaths escaping her lips. I can almost hear the gears turning in her mind, the internal struggle playing out in real-time.

It’s intense, and I’m right there with her, on the edge, waiting for the moment when she decides to jump.

Or maybe this is it. Maybe this is her limit, the line she won’t cross.

Maybe this is where it ends.

And then, so softly that I almost miss it, the word escapes her lips.

“... Daddy.”

It’s like a fucking bomb goes off. The tension shatters, and everything shifts.

“Good.” Marcus grins, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

She said it. She actually fucking said it. It’s a reaction I can’t explain, a surge of something dark and exhilarating washes over me.

He grabs her arm, pulling her up, his touch firm but gentle. Emma lets herself be pulled, moving like she’s walking on eggshells. She avoids my gaze, her head bowed, cheeks burning with shame that I can see even in the dim light.

“You have been a very good girl tonight, Emma.” His fingers find her clit, still swollen and sensitive from his earlier attention.

“Th-thank you...”

“So ... I think you’ve earned a little... reward... “ He pauses, glancing at me for a second. “What do you think, Mike?”

“Ye-yeah,” I stammer, my voice a barely audible croak. “She ... she does.’’

She still won’t look at me. Shame, or maybe something else, keeps her eyes glued to the floor. Seeing her like that, so vulnerable, it twists something in my gut. It’s a blend of wanting to protect her and this darker, more possessive urge that I don’t even want to think about too much.

“So, sweetheart...” He leans closer. “You want Daddy’s cock again?”

She nods jerkily, her body trembling.

SMACK!

“Uuuuuuuuaaagh!”

His hand connects with her ass, hard, the sound sharp and shocking.

“Not like that, Emma.”

Her breath hitches, her body tensing. I know what’s going through her head. The battle, the struggle, the need to surrender warring with the ingrained voice that screams wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Yo—your ... your ... di”

“My what? Come on, Emma. Ask properly or we’re done here.”

I watch as her fists clench, her entire body a live wire of unspoken emotions, of needs she can’t quite articulate.

“Please...” She takes a deep breath, forcing the words out, and a torrent is released. “Please ... fuck me ... with your ... your big black cock... Daddy.”

“Good girl,” he replies with a satisfied laugh.

He catches her chin with his hand, tilting her head up, and then before she can react, his lips are on hers. It’s a hard, demanding kiss, taking her by surprise, but I see her melt into it, her hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders, her body yielding.

And as I watch them, lost in the spectacle of their entwined bodies, the stark contrast of their skin, the raw hunger in their eyes, I can’t deny the truth any longer.

She’s hooked now, addicted to the high, the danger, the forbidden nature of what we’re doing. And I’m the one who’s fed her the drug, who’s opened the door to this world of unspeakable desires. In a twisted way, I’m both her jailer and her liberator.

And I don’t know which role scares me more.

This is driving me crazy.

’Mmmpphhh ... ahhnnnn ... ohhh ... ssss... ‘

The way they’re kissing, the sounds they’re making ... it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. More intense, more erotic, than anything that’s come before. And the absurdity of it— that watching them kiss is somehow more arousing than watching them fuck — makes my head spin.

My cock pulses, a phantom ache, but it’s useless. I came twice already, too quickly, too eagerly, and my body needs time to recover, to catch up with the chaos of my mind. I’m soft, flaccid, but my whole being is on fire. I want to touch myself, to stroke myself, to find some kind of release, but I can’t.

Emma’s on her tiptoes, straining to reach him, her hands clutching around his shoulders, pulling him down to her level.

Marcus finds the zipper to her skirt, his fingers working deftly, and with a soft zzzzziiipppp, the fabric gives way. It pools around her ankles.

Emma steps out of it, never breaking the kiss. She clings to him, her breasts mashed against his chest, her nipples hard points of friction.

Their mouths keep moving, a frenzied dance of tongues and teeth.

Finally, with a soft pop of breaking suction, Marcus pulls away. A string of saliva connects their lips for a moment, then breaks, leaving a glistening trail on Emma’s chin. They’re both breathless, their chests heaving, their eyes glazed with lust.

“Get down on the carpet, sweetheart. Let’s give your husband a proper show.”

She obeys without hesitation, sinking ungainly to the floor, her body a pale, inviting landscape in the soft lamplight.

God, she’s beautiful.

My gaze traces the lines of her body— the curve of her hips, the gentle swell of her breasts, the way her skin glows in the soft light. I’ve never seen her look so... desirable. So utterly fuckable.

Marcus kneels between her open legs. Emma parts them wider, her hips canting upwards, a silent, instinctive invitation. He grins, his eyes dark with amusement and lust, and climbs between her open thighs, his cock swaying before him like a pendulum.

“You’re so wet, Emma,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble as he rubs the head of his cock against her swollen, reddened pussy lips. “So ready for me. Tell me, sweetheart ... you want this? You want my dick inside your sweet, married pussy again?’’

“Oh God... yesss... “ Emma sighs, the sound a mix of pleasure and impatience. “I want your ... I want your big dick inside me... please. Don’t make me beg anymore...” she pauses. “Please, Daddy.”