COLD TRAP

Chapter 82 

MIRABELLA 

Matteo likes pain, especially pain accompanied by pleasure. And as I kneel by his feet, his cock on my face, his hooded eyes staring down at me, I know he craves the pain. 

He desires to express his animality but is restraining himself. 

I do not want him to restrain himself. 

The two hands curled around his thick length tightens so hard it draws a strangled groan from his throat. One would expect him to recoil, but he doesn’t. He pushes himself forward as if asking me for more. 

And I give him more. 

I kiss up his crown, my tongue darting out to lick off the pre–cum oozing from his tip. He moans, tightening his hold on my hair. “Fucks sake, Mirabella,” he breathes harshly. 

“Patience, baby,” I whisper as I flatten my tongue at his base, lazily gliding upward and snaking around his cock. “Don’t be so fucking greedy for my 

mouth.” 

A scoff breezes through his lips, “you’re the one on your knees, licking me up like I’m some precious candy of yours. I think we both know who the greedy one is.” His voice is hoarse and thick, a telltale sign that he wants this just as much as I do. 

“Of course I’m greedy,” I agree, smacking a kiss on his pelvis. “I want to be greedy for my husband’s cock, to have my husband fucking into my mouth until his come spills down my throat. Is that such a bad thing?” I pout my lips in a way that drives him out of his mind. 

“That fucking mouth of yours,” his chest heaves as he draws in an inhale. “You’re going to be the death of me.” 

I snake my tongue out, running it from the top to the base of his cock. His body grows tense, muscles tightening underneath my touch. A smile stretches at my lips as I repeat the motion, this time sliding my tongue against the pulsing vein that run along the underside of his cock. 

“Jesus, Mirabella,” he rasps. “Take me into that little mouth of yours. Do it now and stop playing with me.” His command is given on a strained tone laced with unadulterated lust. 

Pride swells in my chest. 

Wanting to elongate his suffering, I lick his cock further down to where his heavy balls are hidden. Consumed by the reckless need to taste and savor every inch of him, I don’t think twice before sucking his balls into my mouth. 

Spills of curse words fly out of his lips–proof of how much pleasure he’s gaining from this. Breathing through my nose, I dive deeper, rolling his balls between my tongue. 

He buckles into me, his knees almost giving out on him. “Fuck…” His fingers dig into my scalp. “You’re killing me, baby.” 

I steal a peek at him, finding his eyes dark and unfocused, beads of sweat now forming lines and cascading down his face, his chest rising and falling with sharp heaves. 

That disheveled look of his fuels my need to pleasure him some more. And without breaking his stare, I pop his balls out of my mouth and lick my way up his crown, humming in contentment when the exquisite taste of pre–cum meets my tongue. 

His breaths fall staggered when I pull him into my mouth by an inch, his head lolling backwards, incoherent words spilling from his mouth as he pushes his hips forward. 

I push him in by another inch. 

And another. 

And another. 

And another. 

Until his crown is touching the top of my throat. 

The muscles of his pelvis instantly tighten. “Jesus, fuck,” he whispers, his hips surging forward. “Just like that, baby. Just like that.” 

I close my eyes, expelling calming breaths through my nose. This is torture. With my husband’s thigh length shoved deep into my throat, it feels as though my mouth is about to be ripped into pieces. It burns. 

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes but I hold it back, silently urging myself to finish what I started. 

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Chapter 82 All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

Hollowing my cheeks, I begin bobbing my head up and down his length, lubricating with my saliva. My movements are slow at first until I find the perfect rhythm. 

My moans rumble in my throat, my head bobbing at a faster pace, my lips stretching wider and wider around his cock. 

Matteo’s hands tighten around my hair, forcing my face up as he steps incredulously close to me. He holds and begins plunging into my mouth. 

my head strong 

and steady–in place, 

I gag around him, my throat tightening involuntarily. 

“Let me in, baby.” He grunts out of pleasure, knocking air out of my lungs with harsh thrusts of his cock. 

His eyes are clouded by a feral need, his sanity and need to control his urge completely abandoning him, leaving me at his mercy. 

The tears at the brim of my eyes blur my vision, my throat and jaw burning with a painful ache. But I don’t stop him. Instead, I moan for him, even widening my quivering throat to accommodate him some more. 

“Tesoro mio, look at me.” He commands breathlessly. I look up, meeting his heated gaze through teary eyes. The weakness on my face must drive him mad, because his face suddenly twists. He is close. “You love me don’t you?” 

Unable to answer with words, I hum within the depths of my throat. 

“Fuck,” his hips jerk frantically. “Tell me you wouldn’t ever defy me again. Assure me that today will be the last time you act like a naughty girl.” 

“I won’t, Matteo,” I splutter. 

“Good,” he acknowledges. “God, this feels so fucking amazing. You love this don’t you? It’s making your pussy drip, makes you wish I was fucking into your pussy instead, yes?” 

“Yes, yes, yes!” I moan, my lips tightening around his crown. 

“You love this as much as I do?” His voice strains as he asks the question. 

“Yes,” I answer in a moan. 

“That’s my girl.” He appraises. 

And that’s all he needs to do. 

My fingers dig into his skin, my head bobbing frantically, tears streaming down my face. 

Matteo’s eyes close shut, moans and words of approval spewing from his mouth as his thrusts turn animalistic and desperate. 

“Oh…fuck…oh…ah…oh!” He whispers through erotic gasps, his muscles tensing, body going rigid. He pushes forward with a tight jerk, spewing hot cum down my throat, his breath shaky. 

Our breathing is heavy. We chase our breaths, and while we do so, I smack kisses on Matteo’s thighs. “Did you like it?” I ask. 

His lips curve into a smile, “loved it. You did so good for me.” 

“Good, because that’s my apology.” 

A small laugh escapes him, “well I accept that apology wholeheartedly.” He pulls me up on my feet, leaning in and gently rubbing his thumb over my lips. 

3 

“It’s my turn to tender my own apology, wife.” 

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