Free That Filthy Book by Natalie Dae, Lily Harlem Page A

to me. And there was my husband, licking it. Could I cope with that?
    The muscles in my legs tightened on his shoulders—my little warning that I was embarrassed—but he took no notice. Instead, he firmed his grip on my buttocks and stretched them apart, exposing my most secret place some more.
    Letting out a groan of part mortification, part desperation, I twisted my neck to face the other way. The sight of the butt plug, my vibrator, and a tube of lube on the bedside table greeted me.
    “Jacob,” I gasped, needing to say his name as a whirlwind of thrilling images besieged me. Images of what was going to happen next. “Jacob.”
    He didn’t reply. He circled and laved with his tongue, tapping over the taut wrinkles of puckered skin and smoothing over the flat flesh towards my pussy. Embarrassment left me and in its place the wetness of his mouth created a burning, furious whack of desire that seared right to the centre of my soul. This was as depraved as it was utterly glorious.
    I was aware of his body heat on my back as he stretched upwards over me.
    “You are simply beautiful,” he said, reaching for the plug and lube. “Thank you for being mine.” He sat back down between my legs.
    Sinking my teeth into my lower lip because I couldn’t answer, the lump of emotion in my throat too hard, I groaned and shut my eyes again. His hand was on my arse cheeks, and all I could think of was what was coming next. My clit swelled and buzzed and nothing had even stimulated it yet, my breasts were tight and heavy, pressed into the bed.
    Then there it was—pressure at my hole. Cool, wide pressure—it wasn’t the butt plug, it was the blunt tip of his finger.
    “Let me in,” he whispered. “Love, let me in.”
    I willed myself to relax as he entered me. It didn’t hurt; I’d become accustomed to invasion now. It just made me impatient and eager for more.
    “Oh, yes, Jacob, please, higher, touch me there. Touch me in there.”
    He didn’t need asking twice. In a slippery slide he buried knuckle deep.
    “Ah, yes,” I said, fisting the sheets.
    “Oh, fuck, you feel amazing.”
    “God, yes, so do you,” I managed on a shaky breath.
    “You’re like satin, hot pillows of smooth, warm satin.” He moved his finger, stroking my internal walls.
    “More,” I said. “Please, Jacob, I can take more.”
    He withdrew his finger, and I chased it with an upward flick of my hips.
    “Easy, love.” His voice was tight—he’d spoken in his calm voice, but I knew beneath the surface a vat of tension simmered. Sexual tension. I could just imagine how hard his cock must be.
    Two lubed fingers were at my hole now, easing in. I breathed deep, braving the sting in my circle of taut muscle and then welcoming the fullness he created when again he sank knuckle deep.
    “Ah, fuck, yes that’s it, your arsehole looks amazing,” he said. “It’s all stretched around my fingers.”
    Releasing my grip on the sheet, I sent a hand through a space between the pillows and sought out my clit. Began to circle to a slow, steady rhythm.
    “That’s it,” he said, “you work yourself while I ease out this tightness.”
    Suddenly a slash of pain stung my rear hole.
    “Ah, ow,” I gasped.
    “Shh, it’s okay, I gotta get you open for me. My cock is wider than even the base of the plug.”
    I sped up my rotations on my swollen clit and visualised what I must look like from where he sat. Arse in the air, legs spread. My fingertips fretting fast over slick folds of flesh and my anus, my gaping anus, revealing itself to him as his fingers scissored in a series of ever-widening movements.
    I closed in on myself. Only sensation existed. All my thoughts and emotions, every part of my physical being was zoned on what Jacob was creating in my body.
    Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers and my arse clenched, the remaining sting erotic and dark.
    “You want the plug?” he asked.
    “No, no I just want you, Jacob, please.”
    “Are you