Page 16

G oing down on her, not coming up for air until she falls apart on my tongue, is by far the hottest thing I have ever experienced in my life.

Until now.

Her tangy watermelon sugar flavor is still on my tongue as I slide up her body, feeling the tremors still rippling through her.

Her sweet pussy is still pulsing, wet, and wrecked from her orgasm.

I notch my dick at her entrance, positively fucking high on how good it feels to claim her, and I press in slow, deliberate, watching her eyes go hazy and wide as I finish what I started with my fingers only seconds before.

She’s still so tight, so fucking perfect, and her body— fuck —her body is clenching down on every inch of my bare cock like she was made for me.

She’s gonna ruin me.

And I welcome it.

Her virgin’s blood is still on my fingers.

The evidence of her innocence, of her gift, of the piece of herself she gave only to me.

I lift my hand— slow, deliberate —and shove those stained fingers into my mouth, sucking her taste clean off my skin.

I can’t help it.

I need this.

Need to consume her.

Need to make her mine in every fucking way possible.

Her eyes widen, her lips part in shock, in awe, in something close to reverence.

For a second, I wonder if I went too far.

If this is the moment she comes to her senses, pulls away, second-guesses what we’ve done.

But then, she moans, a long, broken sound, and a flood of slick heat coats my cock, soaking me in her need, her desire, her absolute fucking surrender.

She likes it.

She wants this just as much as I do.

I push in all the way, breaking her open, wrecking us both for anyone else.

“Mine,” I grit out, voice rough, raw, edged in possession.

Untouched.

She came to me unfuckingtouched.

The knowledge hits low and brutal, sparking something primitive. Something barbaric.

Something dangerously close to obsession.

Because I am possessive of this woman.

Covetous.

Territorial.

She is mine in a way no one else has ever been, will ever be.

I reach down, grab her chin, force her blown-out, unfocused gaze to mine.

“Look here, Pixie.”

Her lashes flutter.

“Watch my cock sink into you.”

She whimpers, but she obeys, her dazed, pleasure-drunk eyes dragging down between our bodies.

Her breath stutters.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

She squeezes around me, a tight, involuntary pulse that damn near kills me.

“Now, rub your clit.”

Her gaze snaps up.

“Sammy?”

Her voice is so fucking wrecked, so small and unsure.

But I see her hand moving before she even realizes she’s obeying me.

She stops at her tits, palming them, squeezing the soft flesh, and fuck, that’s too good to ignore.

I lean down, drag my tongue over her peaked, sensitive nipple, sucking it into my mouth before releasing it with a sharp, wet pop.

She shudders beneath me.

And I watch—hungry, hypnotized—as she finally slides her tiny hand over her tight little nubbin.

“I—I can’t,” she whispers.

“You can.” I insist, grinding into her slow, deep, pushing us both toward the inevitable.

I trail my fingers down her trembling body, over her hips, her stomach, the insides of her thighs.

I feel her.

All of her.

Pink and soft and mine.

“Look at how beautiful you are, Pixie.”

She gasps.

Her sheath tightens, gripping my cock like a vise, milking me for more.

Holy fuck.

I drop my forehead to hers, breathing hard, barely hanging on.

“Rub that little clit. Make yourself come all over my dick.”

She shakes her head, but her fingers move faster.

Because she knows.

She knows she can’t stop now.

She knows she wants this as bad as I do.

I feel her body start to quake, feel her walls flutter around me, and I know she’s close.

So I angle my hips, rock into her deep, grind against that hidden rough patch inside her, and that’s when, she explodes.

“Sammy!”

She cries out my name, and I love it. Her body arches. Her eyes roll back as she tips into another orgasm.

And fuck, I can’t take my eyes off her.

She’s too beautiful.

Too fucking perfect.

I hold her tighter, fuck her harder, push her deeper into the mattress.

“Eyes on me, Aella.”

Her lashes flutter, barely clinging to reality.

“That’s right.”

I press a hand to her throat, feel her pulse pounding beneath my palm, and thrust deep and slow.

“You take me so fucking good. Look how good you’re doing.”

She moans, sucking in a sharp, shaky breath, her entire body tensing beneath me.

I can feel it coming.

The moment she’s going to lose herself completely.

And I need it.

Need her to break.

Need her to fall apart for me one more time.

“Are you coming, Mama? Is my pretty pussy gonna milk me dry?”

She whimpers, her body clenching.

“Tell me.”

“Yes! Yes, Sammy, I’m coming!”

I groan, my head dropping to her shoulder, my body shaking with the force of my own undoing.

“Fuuuucckkk,” I growl, feeling her squeeze the life out of me, her orgasm ripping through her in waves.

I don’t hold back.

I can’t.

Not with her.

So I let go.

I bury myself deep, grind against her as I spill inside her, my entire body wrecked, shaking, ruined.

And in the aftermath, as we lay there, tangled, panting, marked by what just happened—I know.

I fucking know.

This wasn’t just sex.

This wasn’t just lust.

This was everything.

Because I just claimed my wife .

And she’s never going to be anyone else’s.