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I’m not a man of many words, never have been. But there’s something about her that makes me want to say all kinds of kink into her ear as my dick slips into her. And after I do that, shit, I could see myself telling her everything I’ve done in my life, hoping she’ll still want me.
I didn’t always own a legit business. In fact, for most of my life—I was the criminal running drugs and guns, causing mayhem and burying the evidence when I needed to.
But her hands move south, running down my arms and stomach.
Talking can wait. Being inside her can’t.
Rolling, I pull her under me to pin her hands above her head with one hand. My mouth finds a soft nipple, tongue coming out to trace it lazily while my other hand parts her folds and my finger glides up and down through her damp core.
She moans, hips coming off the bed seeking more of my touch. I chuckle low in my throat at how she comes undone for me.
Just me.
I pick her leg up and wrap it around my waist. In one smooth move, I bury my thick cock deep inside her, planting myself in to the hilt.
I close my eyes, riding her, feeling her tight cunt taking all of me.
The bed groans and creaks under my thrusts, the head board bangs against the wall as I sink deeper into the scorching silk of her heat.
I don’t remember the last time I fucked in a bed. The past few years, hell decades, have been quick fucks behind the bar. I was almost always half-cocked or half-baked to boot. But there’s no cloud in my head dulling the sensation of being raw inside my angel.
Hell, half of me wishes I would get her pregnant. There’s nothing like planting the seed of life in a woman to mark her as your own.
I grit my teeth hissing at how good she feels gripping my dick as I slip in and out of her imagining my full-load finding a home in her womb. But if that day ever comes, my ring will be on her finger and all her shit will be in my house—for good.
“Rog,” she groans, fingers threading in my hair.
My left hand grips the headboard, steadying me so I can pump in harder; faster. Her tits bounce to the rhythm of my thrusts, nipples still wet from my kiss.
I smell myself on her skin.
It’s too much.
She’s too much.
I grit my teeth trying to hold back. My woman needs to come first: always.
“You close, baby?” I rasp in her ear.
“I-I need.”
“Tell me what you need,” I command, pausing mid-stroke.
Her cheeks redden. Damn if she doesn’t look like a blushin’ bride. And here inside our cozy cabin, I can pretend she is and that this is our honeymoon.
She bites her lip, eyes not meeting mine as she snakes a hand down between her legs.
“Say it.”
“I-I want you to touch me there.”
“Where?” I command.
“My-my clit.”
“Your wish is my command, sugar.”
My fingers touch her gently, she’s still swollen from last night. Her back’s taut, body quivering on the precipice of the release she needs.