The Gingerbread Man is My Billionaire Boss

Nothing lasts forever they say; not even the quality of love, that was once shared. I would reminisce on the way his tender fingers would remove every piece of clothing from my body. How he would run his hands down every curve and crease of what he called his property. The way his soft lips kissed mine, slowly moving down to my perky breast, where he would play with my n*****s with his tongue for a while before kissing all the way to my navel. Then he would save the prize for last. He would move to my thighs, which he kissed slowly and steadily; moving up to the big prize; my fleshy vulva pegs. I could feel his warm tongue gently and rhythmically embrace me licking and sucking my c**t driving me obnoxiously insane, and uncontrollably aroused. My toes would curl into tight folds, as erotic moans escaped my lips. “Turn, let me taste you from the back,” he would whisper. Without a second thought, I would quickly turn over onto my knees, spread my legs, and bend over, arching my back. He would continue to taste me from the back as he fingered my *ss. “Oh! My! Gosh! I am cumming! Don't stop!” I would scream. “Tell me you want more!” he would grunt as if he was enjoying every bit of it himself. “Yes. Daddy, please don't stop!” I cried out in pleasure as chills ran up my spine. With my words, he immediately inserted his big Firm d*ck into the gates of his heaven and began stroking me frantically leaving me screaming and groaning even louder. “You're so wet. I could f*ck you all night,” he would whisper. His deep voice brushes against my ears. He would then press a chilling kiss against my neck, sending shivers through my body causing my goosebumps to stand tall. “Take me. Take all of me!” I would moan. Again my words would only ignite a wave of ecstasy within, making him even more aroused as he then flipped me over to lie on my back, His big grey orbs would lock into mine. He bit into his lips, making him even more irresistible. It was as if he wanted to capture my soul as he lifted my legs and continued to stroke me without breaking eye contact. He loved it when he could see my facial expressions when he was inside me. It always brings him to a climax. Light moans would escape his lips as he took me wholeheartedly and unapologetically for his pleasure until satisfied. The look of contentment on his face has always brought a warm smile to mine. I felt like I had done one thing right; satisfied the man that I was deeply and inevitably in love with, my husband Tommy Johnson. After we were finished I would lie wrapped up in his arms with my head resting on his chest. I would then run my fingers along his smooth chest all while he would constantly rest soft kisses on my forehead and play with my long dark brown hair as a gentle reminder of how much he really loved me. “I love you.” he would confess with a smile that was so genuine and pure. Painfully, those were only fading memories of what we were roughly 5 years ago. Now I was nothing but a simple housewife. Preparing breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a husband who treats me like s**t and barely shows up for our five-year-old daughter, Bella. Today would mark the fourth day of the week that I am in the kitchen preparing soup for dinner. I couldn't help but put some thought into the fact that all the fun and sparks in our marriage were slowly disappearing. The everyday steamy s*x on the sofa to the floor, on the staircase to the bedroom, in the showers, was no more. The hard moans of pleasure were eventually becoming softer. The glint of love in each other's eyes was slowly disappearing. The laughter, the conversations, the longing for each other's comfort had become a burden. He doesn't take me to fancy restaurant to wine and dine anymore. I guess they were right. After a decade of marriage, these things can become nonexistent. Tommy and I used to be head over heels in love, until the moment he started to view me as a liability rather than an asset. 5 years ago, he forced me to quit my job at Starship Bank to become a housewife. Mainly because the company that we built from scratch started to make mad money. Also, with the idea that I was going to become a mother, I should focus on taking care of the family. I decided to resign from my job and leave Tommy to run the business alone, just like he always wanted. Five years later and here I am sitting at the dinner table looking at a man that I could barely recognize anymore. Complaining for just about everything. “Today marks the fourth day we're eating soup again for dinner.” he brought the obvious to the table. “It’s starting to taste like ass!” he hissed. His frustration was becoming a normal part of his existence. I sat at the table in silence, acutely aware of the limited options in our kitchen since Tommy had slashed my allowance, with the excuse that the company isn't making as much money as before. My gaze drifted to our five-year-old daughter, Bella, who held her spoon aloft before pouring its contents back into the bowl, her little face a mixture of curiosity and distaste. “I can’t handle another bite!” Tommy grimaced, tossing his spoon onto the table. I watched him wipe his mouth with irritation before standing abruptly. He then moved to the exit, taking his coat and car keys from the pegs. “Don’t wait up. I might grab something to eat and finish some work at the office.” “But you just got back from the office,” I replied, hastily. I could feel my heart quaking with anger. Trying to control my arguments in front of Bella. “Is there a problem?” He raised an eyebrow. “I just don't get it! You do absolutely nothing to make me happy. You don't lift a finger to put bread or butter on this table, and you dare to question my decisions? You’re really an extraordinarily hilarious woman, Shelly.” He chuckled dismissively as he walked out, leaving no goodbye for Bella. In that moment, I felt a scream clawing at my throat, but Bella’s wide eyes, filled with concern, held me back. “Aye, big girl! Are you enjoying your soup?” I asked, forcing a smile as I tickled her gently, trying to divert her attention from the tension that hung in the air. Tommy and I had been married for over a decade, high school sweethearts who had once shared hopes and dreams. He was, and always would be, the love of my life. But after Bella was born, everything shifted. Tommy began to treat me differently, unkindly. He hurled insults, came home later every day, and the arguments became more frequent. I could feel our love slipping through my fingers like sand, yet I held onto the hope that this was just a phase that many marriages endured.