Page 29 of The Last Love Story (Baker Girls #3)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
JUSTIN
Jade’s drenched pussy teases my tip as I line myself up at her entrance.
When she stood in front of me, so vulnerable, asking if this was real, all I wanted was to say the right words to prove to her it is. Now, I need to show her she’s mine in every way.
“Once I take this pussy, it belongs to me. No one else will ever touch you again. Understand?”
She stares at me, wide-eyed, then nods fervently.
“Take me. I’m yours. As long as you know it goes both ways. Your cock is now my personal toy. You belong to me.”
Those words alone send me flying toward the edge. They’re all I’ve wanted for weeks now. For her to see herself as mine and claim me as hers.
Holding her thighs tightly, I press inside her.
“Fuck… yes,” she whines .
“Grab the vibrator and tease your clit. I need to feel you come on my cock this time.”
She scrambles for it and turns it on, moaning the second it touches her.
I feel a hint of the vibrations too, and I have to take a second to calm myself down.
Jade wiggles her hips in frustration. “Move.”
“One second,” I rasp.
After a few deep breaths, I’m back in control and ready to claim what’s mine.
I move in and out of her in long, hard strokes. She lets go, giving in to pleasure. I soak in the delicious sounds of her whimpers and moans, but it’s the hazy look on her face that has me barreling toward the edge.
“Harder,” she breathes.
Hand on the side of her neck and thumb brushing her throat, I drive into her over and over.
“Justin,” she whimpers, then she’s pulsing around me, and it takes all my effort to hold back my orgasm because I’m not done yet. I still need more. So much more of her.
God, she’s stunning like this. Splayed out, beautiful body flushed and trembling from her orgasm, all her soft curves slick with sweat.
She turns the vibrator off and sets it aside, then her eyes lock on mine.
“Flip over.”
In my hazy, too-close-to-coming state, her words don’t compute. “What?”
“Flip over. I want to ride you.”
Oh, fuck .
Rest in peace me. I’m done for.
“Whatever my wife wants.”
Though it means I have to pull out of her for a second, which sucks until the cool air hits my wet cock, sending a chill up my spine and making me even harder .
I lie down on my back, and she climbs over the top of me, staring down at me like a predator watching their prey.
She drags her teeth over her bottom lip, and I realize that look is less like a predator and their prey and more like a cat with its toy.
I’ll be her toy. I’ll be whatever she wants me to be.
“I might need a little help,” she whispers, grabbing the headboard with her left hand and lifting her hips. “Since my right hand can’t do much.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Hold my hips.”
I instantly grab them, sinking my fingers into her soft flesh.
“Good boy.”
Jesus .
I let out a guttural moan as she slides down my cock.
“Yes, baby. Yes, yes.”
She rolls her hips a few times, barely lifting them, then she smiles. A wicked smile as she lifts her hips again and rides me hard.
“Fuck,” I cry.
Her moans are long and deep as she fucks me like she owns me.
She does. I’m all hers.
Forever. Or as long as she’ll have me.
“Yes, darlin’,” I whine. “Yes, yes…”
“Justin,” she groans.
Holding her hips tighter, I buck into her, matching her strokes.
She throws her head back, crying out as our bodies slam together.
I’m intoxicated, completely lost in her. I barely notice the tingling in my spine or the way my balls tighten.
“That’s it. Come for me. Paint my pussy. Show me I’m yours.”
“Fuck.” My fingers dig into her hips as I cry out her name, my body going taut as I spill inside her.
But then she comes again, and the feel of her squeezing my cock sends me even higher, another orgasm pulsing through me.
High-pitched moans are all that come out of me as she rides me until we’re both spent.
I hold her trembling body as she climbs off me and settles in next to me, burying her head in my shoulder as she drapes her right arm over me.
“That was incredible. You are incredible.”
She lifts her head, a sweet yet mischievous smile on her face. “Anything for you, hubby.”
That word sets off something inside me. Not heat. Emotion. That’s how I want her to see me.
I shift so we’re lying face to face, then sweep some hair behind her ear.
“Earlier when you asked if there was something between us, you said our marriage is just legal, but that’s not how I feel.”
“What do you mean?”
“It might not have happened how a typical marriage does, but I want it to be a marriage. I love living with you, spending time with you, doing all the little domestic things with you, and I love taking care of you. I love being your husband, and that’s what I want you to consider me.”
My heart is in my hands—actually, it’s in her hands—as I wait for her answer.
She brings her hand to my cheek, her maple bourbon eyes staring intently into mine.
“You’re my husband,” she breathes. Then she tosses her leg over mine and snuggles in close again.
I lay flat on my back, pulling her tighter to me and playing with her soft hair.
“And I’m your wife,” she whispers, pressing her lips to my neck. “All yours.”
With everything inside me, I hope she always will be.