Divorced And Claimed By A Biker

9

**Vito

At night, when nothing roamed in my mind except for Thalia, I sat myself down in my workspace and began my usual routine that took up most of my time when I was in a bad mood.

It's not like I don't make enough money from it. I sell them and even have so many contracts pending, but I do not work at night. Once I get settled here at night, then something could be bothering me, eating me up or souring my mood.

I picked up my ink, got my drawing sheet and pasted it on the board.

How long would it take until I drew her? I wanted her image in this room so I could at least remind myself of the very woman about to make me lose my senses. I was heaving, my chest throbbing as I got her image on the paper, just the way she was in reality.

As my ink fastened on the sheet, her image flashed in my mind, steady while I put down every one of her features.

It took me four hours to be done, and it was already midnight, around 2 am at that time. I did the remaining things I had to do and then hung the sheet, which I had glued to a frame on the wall. I stared at it for minutes, just wishing that face there could walk up to me once again and into my arms.

Even my exes didn't have me thinking all night because of them. I don't remember drawing any of my exes when I wasn't getting paid for it. But here I was, smiling sheepishly with my mind spinning continuously while I stared at her drawing.

I got to bed after arranging my work stuff together. Shutting my eyes finally became something I shouldn't ever do, because as I did so, her face just appeared and clung to my mind. It was as though I was losing my mind; my forehead soon began throbbing from too much thinking.

How did she turn me down that quickly today? This had to do with money, so she should have considered it. Did she hate me that much and didn't want to have anything to do with me?

I had just come to conclude that good looks wouldn't bag a woman, especially the one you love. I could say that my exes were clinging to me then because of my physique, and Thalia was the first woman who never cared and turned me down without a second thought.

The more I thought about her, I noticed how much my body was reacting to her image in my mind. It would surely be nice having her in this bed, leaning on my chest and getting claimed by me over and over.

Her moans; I would love to grab that in my mind as well.

She had good looks, her hips curved and her lips succulent. Her boobs were very much okay and could go a long way satiating my hunger for n*****s, and I bet her juices could heal my bruised heart.

I wanted her, all the time, to be mine alone…so how do I go about that? Would I ever be able to heal her?

I looked down at my joystick and groaned lustfully. I was hard, so hard that my pants would tear. Handjob hadn't always been my thing because I had no one to fantasise about, and I rarely had time to sit and get in the mood with my thoughts.

The thought of her flooding my mind had me craving her pussyhole that I might never get until the end of life. I pulled down my pants and got my palm stroking my length. My groans were light and breathless, and I couldn't stop picturing my fantasy lady taking me down her throat.

Oh Jesus! This was like a punishment, but I didn't mind serving it since it had to do with her.

I continued to stroke my length, biting my lips when the tension began building so fast. It took a little longer, maybe because I hadn't ejaculated for a long time… but I did, having the cream spill down my c**k, getting the satisfaction in months of being single.

This could have felt so much better if it were a result of my fantasy lady's touch. But it was all okay; at least I had her drawing in my bedroom finally.

***

**Thalia

Right in the bathtub, I moaned inwardly as my n****e hardened.

Why did he have to come again? I was already getting over him. Now no matter how hard I tried to get him off my mind, all my efforts were in vain, and I was getting creamy over and over.

This was my third time washing up my soaked-up core, thinking it would relieve me of the lust growing in me, but it was rather heightened.

I had checked my calendar, and I was in my safe period, so it wasn't as a result of a hormonal change of some sort. How could a man like him be draining my thoughts and giving me these sleepless nights to drown in lust for him?

Not like I was untouched. In fact, I had always been the one making a move towards Dante before he acted. When I confronted him about it, he claimed that he didn't know the right time to touch me because I was always stressed.

I understood, thinking he was being a good man. Little did I know that he had chicks that fed his c**k, so I was just a bonus to him.

The thought of my days with Dante was supposed to flip my mood, and this lust dissipated. Yet, the smiling face of this dude wouldn't stop filling my mind.

I cuddled myself in the bathtub, my breathing becoming raspy. But as my arm brushed my sensitive hard n****e, a moan escaped my lips. I couldn't stand it anymore; it was so overwhelming, and I might end up unable to have a good sleep tonight if I fought hard.

Suckling my lower lip, I fondled my boobs, rubbing my n*****s constantly and panting relentlessly. I didn't even realise how fast I was to get my fingers between my legs and began flicking my core. My c**t was swollen and throbbing; I just wished I could get this dude here to have me under his possession.

His physique told a lot about how good he could be in bed, and he could handle me to my satisfaction.

I stroked my core for a bit longer until I thrust my middle finger into my wet hole. The feeling…oh God! I didn't want to stop. It was so good, especially having imagined myself under the claim of Vito. It hit so differently, and I inserted another finger.

My moans soon turned to cries as I was getting close to the peak, until my juices messed up the water in the bathtub.

I shoved my hair backwards and exhaled heavily. The satisfaction hit differently, and I bet I would finally be able to sleep.