***ZANE’S POV***
I don’t care if London is leading me on or not, but I will teach the little slut that she doesn’t have to compare me to her stupid friend ever again.
“Is this what you want? Being treated like the whore you are?” I ask, securing my hand around her neck and adding pressure to it.
London’s blonde curls waver on her head, making her a doll.
“Yes, Daddy. Please,” she begs as she pushes her hands in front of her, forming a forte and using her body to push forward, giving her closure.
The right amount of space needed to crowd her ass without slipping my cock into it.
“If you wanted me, you should have just asked for sex, not act like a brat. Now, you are in trouble,” I blurt out.
“Ougph, Daddy. I love being in trouble,” London says.
I had to throw my head behind and breath fresh air because what I was having was intoxicated by my wife’s fragrance.
Despite the shock we just had, having to survive men who wanted to kill us, she still has a mind to talk dirty to me.
“Dang it, London,” I say as I spank her ass, making sure my thick palms cover all of her ass.
When she straightens, thinking that I am over, I press my hand over the small of her back, making her fall back on the table. Kicking her leg apart, I rip her panties and slap her pussy.
SLUSH! SLUSH!
“Owwie!” London cries out as she dances on her tippy toes.
Good. That was an actual stink.
“How tell me about the men who kidnapped you at the hospital while I fuck sanity into your brain,” I say, pushing my fingers into London’s pussy.
I grab her swollen clit and press on it. She moans.
“My little slut!” I breathe out as I rub gently, teasing her to think.
“Please Zane, that is so good. You keep rubbing and I will cum,” she says, rolling her ass in a circular as motion.
I stop and she cries, as if in pain.
“Keep talking if you want more. Answer the question, London,” I prompt, adding friction to her clit.
London takes a few seconds to recollect her memory, then, she starts talking, her voice ragged as if she is being choked.
“The men came to us that you had sent them. I only discovered who they were when it was too late and they beat me to unconsciousness when I tried to run,” she says, rushing her reply.
“Describe them,” I say, sliding two fingers into my pussy.
“Daddy!” London whines.
When being fingered rightly, she will behave like that. I don’t give a shit though. I need answers, and if she can’t give them while sober, she would when she is in a cum daze.
“Hush, baby. I just want you to give me a reply, and you get your orgasm,” I murmur.
“That’s not fair,” she cries out softly.
Leaning closer, I kiss the side of London’s neck, hiding a smile there.
“Describe the men. Did you hear any names?” I inquire, pushing my fingers deeper past her pussy folds.
“Yes. Oh, please. Yes,” she cries out to me and I stop.
“No. No. Why did you stop? I was coming to come,” she whimpers wanting to close her legs.
I block it with my knee end flick her clit to get her attention.
“Shhh! I ask the questions here. You give the answers and you get an orgasm,” I say, making it clear.
“Hummm!” she huffs.
I wait, trying to know if she will take the bait or. It. She eventually does and a small smile pass across my lips. Gently, and ever so lightly.
“They had introduced themselves as Paolo and… I can’t remember the other’s name, but he had short black hair. He was the driver and had glasses on. He was the one to manhandle me. The fucker slammed my head against the hood of the damn hot car when I tried to run,” London let out and shakes her head, remembering the pain.
I grit my teeth, knowing that whoever the dickhead was would die.
When I didn’t interrupt, London continues talking.
Their job was to take me to a warehouse. Two men were there, I later discovered they were the Antonovs. That wasn’t the issue though,” she mutters but her voice very low as if reliving the most tragic experience of her life.
I pull out my fingers and slip them into my mouth while I help London to her feet. She slides down on a couch in the office and uses a throw blanket to cover her body up.
I hate that she feels aware of herself and has to cover it up.
“What?” I ask recognizing the shift in the atmosphere.
“Michael was their boss. The man I know was no longer there. Instead, he was replaced by this beast. Damn it. The things he did to me,” London mouths out more to herself than to me.
That was when I knew she wasn’t living in the present anymore.
Rather, she was in her head.
Rushing to my wife, I wrap her up in my arms, joining the blanket with it and rocking her hard against my body.
“You don’t have to say it if you don’t want,” I tell her severally, placing gentle kisses over the top of her head.
“But… You need to know,” she cries harder.
“You need to calm down, little girl, you are having a panic attack. It is not good,” I mutter and she stiffens gently.
“Zane,” London cries out as she shakes her head.
“Little girl…” London cuts me out by lifting her hand to my face.
“Just let me ramble out the words, please. I want you to haunt Michael down. He tortured me in worse ways you could ever remember,” at the end of her words, she zones out crying hard.
My pretty wife’s eyes darkens as it becomes hoarded my memories of the past.