Push The Button by Feminista Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

her hair in response, yanking her head back, freeing Himself. His resolve hastily returned.
    “You want this dick, huh? You conniving, petulant brat, you want this dick so bad, huh? Don’t you? DON’T YOU??!”
    Before she could answer, she felt His palm across the left side of her face three seconds before He shoved Himself back into her mouth and down her throat. His left hand still gripped her hair and His right hand now gripped the left side of her neck. Slowly at first, He thrust Himself in and out of her mouth, allowing Himself to savor the pleasure of it. Hearing her moan a few times, He knew she was enjoying it entirely too much, so He quickened the pace. He craved her tears.
    She lifted her hands to wrap around Him, but He stopped her immediately.
    “Put your fucking hands down and take it!! You better… fucking… take it… since you wanted it so fucking bad. So bad that you disregarded my punishment. So bad that you disrespect my commands. So bad that you can’t even spend two weeks doing as I demanded of you. Put your hands behind your back!!”
    She laced her fingers behind her back as her eyes shut tight. She knew she’d brought this assault on herself.
    “Open your eyes. Look at me. You look at me…now.”
    She looked up and met His gaze. The tears formed as she saw His eyes shift from raging red anger to the sadness of unbearable hurt.
    “Why didn’t you just tell me?” he pled. “Why didn’t you just tell me who he was and what happened, baby?” She felt Him ease up on His assault of her throat. More tears fell from her eyes.
    “We promised to share everything. Everything!! I opened myself up to you completely. More than I ever have with any woman before. Was he that important to you? Huh? That motherfucker wasn’t SHIT!! He was NOTHING!!!” He tried to get deeper into her throat. He wanted to fuck her soul into penance.
    “Did you love him more than me?? Do you still love him??”
    He held Himself for a few seconds, deep in her throat. He could feel and hear her gagging. He grew harder. Her suffering excited Him, even amid His most vulnerable plea. She tried to shake her head to indicate negative responses to His questions, but He held her head so tight, she could not budge. She reached up and grabbed His wrists. He knew this meant she was struggling, but in that moment, He wanted her to feel His pain. He eased up a bit more, but He didn’t let go.
    As she felt Him softening, she relaxed her jaw even more. He needed this, she knew. She also knew that there would be a lot of work to be done for each of them to forgive her for keeping Marcus a secret from Him. She’d told Him bits and pieces about her past, but she’d never gone into depth about Marcus. Part of her secrecy was because she didn’t want to rehash the memories, as they were intense and painful. Part of it was that she didn’t want Him feeling insecure, as men sometimes feel when they’re new to The Life and their women have more experience. She didn’t want Him comparing Himself to a man who deserved no such consideration.
    “I love you… SO fucking much… I can’t be without you, baby. God, woman, don’t you know that?”
    He let go of her neck and her hair and halted His thrusts. He slid down into a heap in front of her. She reached up, both to embrace Him, and to turn off the burners on the stove, as she’d begun to smell a burning odor. She pulled Him into her arms, whispering “I’m sorry…” at least ten to fifteen times. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry my love,” she cried into His arms. He buried His face into her neck and wrapped His arms around her waist. He squeezed her for a moment before He began to grab at her clothes. His fever pitched as His lust boiled to the surface. He tried unbuttoning her blouse, one of His favorites, but gave up when He couldn’t get His fingers to work in preservation of the garment. He ripped it open and pulled her bra up, freeing her breasts. He palmed them