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She roams a hand down my chest. “Take me.”
Two words.
They’re all I want.
All I need too.
Then, because a man should listen to a woman, I flip her to her stomach, raise her luscious ass, and kneel behind her.
“You picture this, baby?”
She gasps at that last word. “Yes.”
“You like when I call you baby?”
“I do,” she says, and she sounds drunk on this. On us.
Same here.
It’s barely been a month since I met her and yet…I feel like I’ve been waiting forever to get close to her like this.
To feel our bodies connect.
To rub the crown of my cock against her pussy.
To hear the hitch in her breath, the gasp in her voice as she asks for me.
“Please, Gage. Fuck me,” she says, begging beautifully.
“You want your husband’s cock?” I say, teasing my throbbing dick against her wetness.
“So badly,” she says on a whimper, her fists curling around the sheets.
I sink into her, savoring every single second. It’s so good, it’s unholy.
It’s electric.
Pleasure grips me hard, and I’m buzzing everywhere, a circuit breaker reaching maximum. I set a hand on her sexy back and push her down. Like that, I pin her, my chest to her back, an arm roped around her tits, my other hand gripping her hip.
I fuck her good and slow.
Deep and passionate.
Letting her feel every inch of me with every goddamn thrust.
Reaching that sweet spot inside her.
She grips the sheets, parts her lips, begs for me. “Yes, more, so good.”
My nerves fray. My brain goes haywire. And lust consumes every single thought.
Except…maybe not all of them. As I fuck her harder, I’m keenly aware that today is not a one-time thing. That she is already so much more than a habit. That I’m already a little wild for my wife.
“Oh god. Yes. So good,” she says, my noisy, horny, greedy, wildly aroused wife, who seems to love it when I fuck her.
When I slide a hand up higher, past her breasts, she’s lost. Moaning, writhing, murmuring.
“The sounds you make,” I mutter then thrust deep, reaching the end of her.
