Adultery Who Watches The Watchmen (continued)

[samgreenvalley]

The first time Dara took her that night, it was slow and deliberate, almost tender. He pushed the velvet dress up to her waist, exposing her bare pussy to the dim light. She was already wet—had been wet since she first saw him in the doorway.
 
"Look at you," he murmured, running his fingers through her slickness. "So ready. So eager. Is this for me, or for Sharma?"
 
"For you," she gasped as his thumb found her clit. "Always for you."
 
He didn't believe her. She could see it in his eyes. But he didn't argue. He simply positioned himself between her legs and pushed inside her, his thick cock stretching her in that familiar, wonderful way.
 
"Uhhh," Menaka groaned, her back arching off the bed. "Yes. Yes."
 
Dara fucked her slowly, deeply, each stroke deliberate, each withdrawal agonizing. He kept his eyes open, watching her face, watching her breasts spill out of the neckline, watching the rose petals cling to her sweat-slicked skin.
 
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his voice strained. "To be fucked by your watchman husband while thinking about the society secretary?"
 
"I'm not thinking about him," Menaka said. "I'm thinking about you."
 
"Liar."
 
"Fuck me harder and find out."
 
Dara's response was to pull out entirely, leaving her empty and aching. Before she could protest, he flipped her onto her stomach, grabbed her hips, and pulled her up onto her knees. The velvet dress bunched around her waist, her bare ass presented to him like an offering.
 
"You want to be a slut for the bade sahab?" He slapped her right cheek, hard. "You want to spread your legs for every man who promises you something?"
 
"Yes," Menaka moaned, pushing her ass back toward him.
 
"Then take it like one."
 
He entered her again, this time with none of the earlier tenderness. He fucked her hard, fast, his hips slamming against her ass with each stroke. The bed creaked beneath them. The rose petals scattered. Menaka buried her face in the pillow and screamed.
 
"Louder," Dara commanded, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head back. "Let the whole colony hear. Let Sharma hear. Let him know who you belong to."
 
"I belong to you," she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Only you."
 
"Then why did you let him touch you?"
 
"Because—" She gasped as he angled his hips, hitting a spot that made her vision blur. "Because I wanted to help you. Because I wanted to give you something. Because—"
 
"Because you're a whore," Dara finished for her, but his voice was strangely gentle. "My whore. My beautiful, slutty whore."
 
"Yes," Menaka agreed, because it was true. "Your whore."
 
He fucked her through her first orgasm, not slowing down, not giving her a moment to recover. Her screams filled the small room, bouncing off the concrete walls, probably audible to anyone walking past. She didn't care. Let them hear. Let them know.
 
When she finally collapsed, spent and shaking, Dara pulled out and flipped her onto her back again. He knelt between her legs, his cock glistening with her juices, and looked down at her.
 
"Again," he said.
 
"I can't."
 
"You can."
 
He entered her again, and she did.