Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 386: Nathalie’s Possessive Dawn

Jennifer was in the kitchen, apron tied over a simple sundress, stirring a pot of creamy mushroom risotto.

She looked up, smiled warmly, but her eyes flicked between us—taking in Nathalie’s unsteady gait, the faint red marks on my neck, the way we couldn’t stop touching each other.

"Dinner’s almost ready," she said cheerfully. "I made your favorite—risotto with truffle oil, grilled prawns, and that arugula salad you like.

"Emily’s with Veronica and Mary tonight. Said they’d be back tomorrow afternoon."

Nathalie managed a tired smile. "Thank you, Jen. Smells incredible."

We sat at the dining table—candlelight, soft music, plates steaming. Nathalie ate slowly, leaning against my shoulder between bites, occasionally feeding me a prawn with her fingers.

Her jealousy hadn’t faded; if anything, the quiet domesticity made it sharper. Every time she looked at me, there was a possessive glint.

Jennifer cleared the plates with quiet efficiency, poured us each a glass of chilled Sancerre, then gave a small, knowing smile. "I’ll be in my room if you need anything. Good night."

I turned to Nathalie. She tipped her glass back and drained the wine in one long, tired swallow, her eyelids already heavy. Exhaustion had finally caught up with her.

Without a word, I slipped an arm beneath her knees and another behind her back, lifting her gently. She curled against my chest as she belonged there.

I carried her down the hallway to the bedroom. We sank onto the mattress together—she still in her dress, me still half-dressed—and she immediately wrapped both arms around me, clinging tight. Her breath warmed the side of my neck as she murmured, barely audible,

"Dexter... I love you..."

I glanced down. Her eyes were closed, lashes dark against pale skin, her face soft and completely relaxed. She was already deep in sleep, the words slipping out like a secret she only dared tell her dreams.

I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and let my own eyes close, her steady heartbeat against mine pulling me under with her.

We both fell asleep. I don’t know how long I slept, but I noticed something moving over and realised it was Nathalie who had woken before me, propped on one elbow, staring down at my face with that soft, possessive intensity she only let show when she thought I was asleep.

Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder, bare breasts rising and falling slowly, nipples already pebbled from the cool air—or maybe from whatever filthy thoughts were running through her mind.

When my eyes opened and caught her watching, a deep blush flooded her cheeks and chest. She tried to look away too late.

I didn’t give her time to retreat.

My hand cracked across her perfect, round ass—hard, deliberate, the sharp SMACKringing through the quiet room like a gunshot. Her body jerked forward, a startled yelp escaping her lips.

"Aaah!"

She whipped her head back to glare at me, eyes flashing with mock indignation while one hand flew to rub the stinging red handprint blooming on her pale skin.

"You—!"

I didn’t let her finish.

I surged up, caught her by the nape of the neck, and crushed my mouth to hers in a deep, devouring kiss. No gentleness. No morning sweetness.

Just raw hunger—tongue plunging past her lips, claiming every inch of her mouth like I was reminding her who she belonged to.

She moaned instantly, the sound vibrating against my tongue, her body melting against mine even as her hand kept rubbing the smarting spot on her ass.

I tasted the faint sweetness of last night’s Sancerre on her, mixed with the salty warmth of her own arousal that was already flooding back between her thighs.

My free hand slid down, cupped the hot, freshly-spanked cheek, squeezed hard enough to make her whimper into the kiss, then delivered another sharp SMACK—lower this time, right where thigh met ass.

She broke the kiss with a gasp, panting against my lips, pupils blown wide.

"Dexter... fuck..."

"Good morning, my dear wife," I murmured, voice low and rough, thumb brushing the swollen lower lip she was biting. "Sleep well after watching every slut in that clinic try to steal what’s yours?"

Her eyes darkened—jealousy flaring fresh even in the soft morning light.

"They didn’t steal anything," she hissed, but her voice cracked with need. "You’re mine. Always mine."

I chuckled darkly, flipped her onto her back in one smooth motion, and pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. My knee nudged her thighs apart; she spread instantly, hips lifting toward me on instinct.

"Prove it," I growled against her throat, teeth grazing the pulse point. "Show me how much wetter that jealous little cunt gets when I remind you."

I released her wrists only to slide both hands under her ass, lifting her hips off the mattress.

One hard slap landed on each cheek—SMACK-SMACK—making her cry out and arch, pussy clenching visibly, a fresh bead of slick already shining at her entrance.

"Dexter—!"

Another slap—harder—right across both cheeks at once. The sound was obscene in the quiet room, her skin blooming brighter red.

"Say it," I ordered, lowering my mouth to hover just above her dripping slit. "Tell me whose cock this pussy belongs to."

"Yours—fuck—yours—only yours—" Her voice broke into a whine as I dragged the flat of my tongue from her asshole to her clit in one long, slow lick—tasting the faint salt of last night’s cum still lingering inside her, mixed with fresh arousal. She bucked, thighs clamping around my head.

I sucked her clit hard—pulled it between my lips, flicked the tip of my tongue against it in rapid strokes—while my fingers dug into the stinging flesh of her ass, spreading her wider.

"Again," I growled against her folds. "Louder."

"YOUR COCK—ONLY YOURS—FUCK—DEXTER—PLEASE—"

I rewarded her with two fingers plunging deep into her soaked cunt, curling against that spongy spot that made her scream.

My thumb found her clit, rubbing merciless circles while my other hand kept spanking—slow, deliberate, each SMACK timed to the rhythm of my fingers pumping inside her.

Her body bowed off the bed, heels digging into the mattress, hands clawing at the sheets.

"Gonna—gonna cum—already—fuck—your fingers—your mouth—spanking me—jealous—still so jealous—ahh—Dexter—don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—MAKE ME CUM ON YOUR TONGUE—CLAIM ME—FUCK—YES—YES—YESSSSS!"

She shattered—hard—pussy gushing around my fingers in hot, rhythmic pulses, squirt splashing against my chin and chest as her whole body convulsed.

I didn’t let up—kept licking through it, kept spanking lightly to draw out every tremor, every broken cry, until she was a shaking, whimpering mess beneath me.

When she finally collapsed, panting, eyes glassy, I crawled up her body, cock throbbing painfully hard against her thigh.

She reached for me immediately, legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me down.

"Inside—now—please—need to feel you—need to feel you breed me again—remind me I’m the only one—fill me—fuck me raw—make me forget their names—make it hurt so good I can’t think—"

I didn’t tease.