Eight: My Husband Is Infertile.

His hands caged her slender waist, fastening her gliding hips to his own. Francesca looked down at her husband with a whimpering cry escaping her agape lips. His expression was uncertain but one could tell when a man was close.

Beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face as he raised his hands to enclasp her untamed breasts that bounced in the shadowy silhouette across the walls. Francesca faked her moaning like she was about to cum but his was a lot realer.

There was a way Aaron usually scrunched his nose, holding around her back and breathing into the side of her neck. And whenever they fought, this was the easiest way to release all the anger and the tension. Deep groans that built up from the back of his throat met the hair across her neck as Aaron shot his seed inside of her.

Synchronizingly, she matched his exclaim before she was tossed to the bed. She stood almost immediately while he laid limp with his hands across her chest. “Where are you going?” Aaron didn’t even dart