Properly Provoed

"Bastard!"

I threw the small glass plate at Vincent, which he dodged. It shattered satisfyingly on the wall behind him, joining the wreckage of two others.

He avoided the shards as he advanced on me, a slight but manic smile on his face. It was disconcertingly unfamiliar even through my anger.

"I'm coming for you, baby," he crooned softly, his hands flexing.

I watched as my husband came closer. Rage threatened to blind me. We were in the midst of a fight the likes of which we hadn't had in our entire two-year marriage.

Well.

We'd had

one

like it.

And I had to say, remembering what

that

fight had been like, something deep down inside was hoping that this one would end that way too.

But it was too soon to tell. And I was too mad to know for sure.

I cast around behind me blindly with one hand, looking for something else to throw. My hand closed around a small empty jar I had washed out earlier that day. I snatched it up and threw it. "You fucking—"

Vincent closed the gap between us like lightning, his hand closing over my wrist before I could draw it back from its throw. "What a mouth," he murmured into my ear, deceptively gentle. His other arm easily wrapped around me, crushing me to him.

I met his eyes, hissing and struggling. "Get your hands off me," I spat. "If you think that I'm—"

"Oh, I don't

think

, Eva," he said, suddenly deadly serious. "You've got such a temper. You need to be taught a lesson."

My eyebrows drew together indignantly. "What

lesson

?" I screeched, just as he picked me up and carried me out of the glass-strewn kitchen.

He threw me down on our couch in the next room. I could feel the heavy upholstery material through my thin t-shirt and underwear. We had been getting ready to go to bed when the fight had begun. He was barely more dressed than I was, in a wifebeater tank top and shorts.

Although I was so mad at my husband I could hardly see straight, I could still appreciate his body as he loomed over me. His shoulders were broad and well-developed, biceps chiseled, strong pecs and abs outlined through the knit of his shirt. His Italian features were incredibly attractive, close-cropped black hair topping a chiseled face with deep brown eyes and a lush mouth.

I

almost

forgot for a moment that I was mad at him.

But then, indignant that I had been tossed onto the couch like a sack of potatoes, I started scrambling upward.

Making a loud

tsk

noise, Vincent pinned my jaw with one hand and held my hips with the other. I batted at his arm with my hands, but found little purchase. Finally, I subsided, chest heaving, looking at him balefully.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asked, keeping the same gentle tone, with a menacing undercurrent.

"Good? Fuck you," I snarled.

"Oh," he said sweetly. "I was hoping you'd remember."

A mixture of confusion followed by a flash of memory. He let me go for a split second.

Suddenly my husband's hands were at my throat. Before I could scream, or even gasp, he took hold of my t-shirt collar and yanked sharply. The thin material tore straight down the middle and came apart in shreds, which he held up victoriously. He cast them aside.

I was shocked into stillness for a moment. It was all Vincent needed.

His mouth was on mine, crushing it, his tongue playing across mine, taking what he wanted. He pulled me upward, gathering me to his chest forcefully.

Arousal surged through me, obliterating my anger and channeling it into lust. I threw my arms around his neck, twining my hands through his thick hair and pulling his face into mine. I moaned, low in the back of my throat, causing him to answer with a rough growl that made my nipples instantly hard.

I jumped off the couch into Vincent's arms, wrapping my legs around him. He held me easily, one arm under my ass, the other still clamped around my back, but moving forward. One hand now massaged my breast, thumbing and rolling my nipple.

In response, I lightly bit his lip, whimpering. A deep chuckle formed in his chest. "Oh yeah, baby," he whispered into my mouth.

He released me, pulling off his shirt in one fluid motion as I fell back onto the couch. I was about to climb back up onto him when he dropped to his knees on the floor in front of me and buried his face in my tits.

I sucked in a breath, unconsciously pushing them farther around his face as he licked the smooth skin between them. I am a well-endowed girl, not obscenely so, but enough so that my husband is completely satisfied, if you know what I mean. My sizable nipples stood at attention as his tongue swiped toward one of them, then swirled around it. His big hands pushed my tits together and upward, kneading them, playing.

My head fell back, my long dark hair cascading behind my shoulders as I moaned. "Yes, baby," I sighed. I could feel him smiling against my skin. I held his head to my chest, splaying my hands through his hair again.

There was going to be hell to pay later. I just wasn't sure who was going to be paying, was the thing.

He started sucking as his hands traveled downward, over my ribcage and around my hips. As he encountered my panties, I could feel his shoulders bunch, and then I heard the tearing of fabric again as the skimpy lace gave way. He jerked the material out from under me, and then I lay completely revealed to him.

Vincent leaned backward to leer at me. Although he had a triumphant look on his face, I could see the undercurrent there—

my

Vincent, the man I'd fallen in love with, appreciating me. It made this strange, electrifying persona easy to go along with.

"I know all about you," he said in a low, gravelly voice, reaching out to flick my nipples rapidly with his fingers.

"Oh yeah? What is it you think you know?" I sneered, valiantly trying to save face as pleasure radiated from my tits downward.

He leaned inward. I could smell his intoxicating scent as his warm breath tingled over my ear. "My good little

wife

..." His tongue darted out to lick my earlobe as I closed my eyes. "...turns into an incredible

slut

when properly provoked."

Memories of that long-ago epic fight rushed back. We had had the most fantastic sex that night. It was clear that he wanted a repeat.

So did I.

I opened my eyes to see his face hovering right above mine. "Well then," I rasped. "It seems that you do know something after all." Then, I winked at him.

Roaring, he picked me up by my hips, swinging me around so he was holding me again. We were all tongue and teeth, biting and licking and kissing. My hair was flying as he yanked me upward. I scratched at his back, pulling him toward me as if I could climb into him.

Blindly, I reached downward toward his waistband. He still wore his shorts. I needed access to him—had to see him, feel him, please him like he'd been pleasing me.

Vincent knew what I wanted. He set me down and I immediately pulled the shorts down. He kicked them off.

My husband's glorious cock stood at attention, rock hard from our encounter up to this point. I might have taken a moment to enjoy the sight of him if I hadn't already been sucking his thick length.

"

Fuck

," he grunted as he grasped the sides of my head gently. Not so gently, he began pumping in and out of my mouth. Trained in the art of what he loved, I relaxed my throat and allowed my tongue to swirl as he slid in and out. I held him by the base and lightly scratched his balls with my other hand, enjoying it as his breath grew ragged. Reaching around, I felt his ass flex as he thrust furiously.

I felt my pussy lips swelling and tingling. I was definitely soaking wet already, and hadn't even been touched yet. I knew from experience that he wouldn't approve if I started playing with myself. He always wanted to be the first one to see how wet I was.

But since it was

that

kind of fight, I deliberately reached down and used a manicured fingertip to start rubbing my clit. I moaned around his heavy shaft. As I predicted, he immediately stopped and pulled out of my mouth with a soft pop.

His eyes went dark with rage. Picking me up and throwing me onto the couch again, he lightly slapped me. "Are you fucking kidding me? Who told you you could touch yourself?"

I smiled, mock-innocently. "I expect my man to pay attention," I said with a shrug. "You weren't doing it, so I had to take matters into my own hands."

"The hell you will," he growled, and buried his face between my legs.

I cried out as his tongue plunged into my dripping wet folds, finding my clit and sucking on it. I was so sensitive and swollen, within moments I felt an uncontrollable orgasm crash over me, spasming underneath him.

He had no intention of letting up, though. I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as my husband mounted me and rammed his entire length into my dripping pussy. The pleasure was exquisite. I screamed his name and bit his shoulder, leaving a mark.

Vincent's weight pinned me to the couch as he started pounding me, hands planted behind my knees, holding my legs apart. I looked up at him, dazed, his face transformed into a beautiful, snarling mask of lust. It was one of the most erotic things I had ever seen. I grasped his forearm muscles, corded as they held me down.

He was taking me by force, and I could already feel another orgasm crashing over me. My pussy tightened down, trying to milk his cock, and he groaned as he felt it pulling on him.

Before I had even had a chance to think, still reeling from the second orgasm, the world tilted as he lifted me again, as if I were a rag doll. He sat on the couch with me on his lap, facing him. "Ride me," he said in that low, dangerous voice.

"Or what?" I ground out, still trying to play my role, although I was hanging on by a thread. I was impaled on his solid shaft, and I wanted nothing more than to ride him, and hard.

He smacked my bare ass, hard, massaging it vigorously. "Or I leave you here, in a tumbled little pile, wanting to be fucked some more." He bared his teeth in a vicious grin.

I surrendered. Moving gingerly, then more quickly, I began to bounce up and down on him. I found a rhythm and closed my eyes, tilting my head back. His hands were wrapped around my hips, and my hair brushed across his knuckles. Our bodies slapped against each other. A soft sucking sound displayed how wet my swollen cunt had become.

His hands moved upward around my ribs and he leaned me backward. I braced my hands on his knees in a porn star-like pose, exposed to him. I looked at him as he watched his cock disappearing deep into my pussy. His eyes widened a little.

"What?" I breathed.

"Your pussy," he said hoarsely. "It's gripping my cock so tight that it's...it's turning inside out a little as we fuck. That's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

I couldn't help but smile with pride.

Rumbling, he lifted me back up again, forcibly picking me up and putting me down again on his cock, harder. My tits bounced in his face. I sensed the balance of power shifting back my way.

I rode him hard. He banged me with abandon, mesmerized by my bouncing tits. I could tell he would be cumming soon.

"How do you end an outstanding fuck?" I whispered in his ear.

"How?" he said, a dreamy, sexy smile spreading across his face.

"By emptying those magnificent balls deep inside my cunt," I replied, running my tongue along his ear.

"Fuck, Eva, you—" Vincent's body seized, his eyes closed, and he groaned loudly.

I could feel his hot cum spraying inside me as his body was wracked with a powerful orgasm. I shrieked as my own orgasm overtook me, my pussy pulsing as he pumped into me.

We both gasped for breath as we slowed to a stop. "Oh, Vincent, baby..." I moaned into his ear.

"God, I love you, Eva," he said, face buried in my neck, his voice cracking.

I answered by kissing him deeply, still impaled on him, enjoying the bliss settling around us. "I love you too, baby," I said softly to him.

"What the fuck were we fighting about?" he asked, pulling me against him.

"I have no idea," I murmured, laying my head on his chest. "But we gotta do it more often."