Then I saw it, she’d squirted all over herself and our marital bed—the perfect inauguration. I held steady, waiting for her tremors to stop.
I pulled out slowly, savouring the view of her gaping and twitching arsehole. Then I flipped her onto her back—had to see her face, her lips, the way her chest rose and fell like she’d just run a marathon.
My fist flew along my length, fast now, frantic. Her gaze followed every stroke as if it were her own personal show.
She didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
She knew exactly what was coming, and she wanted every last drop of it.
I began to grunt as my balls tightened. She was mine.
My come blasted out, shooting over her pussy and belly. Thick and white. My mark.
I groaned, every muscle pulled tight, jaw clenched so hard it felt like my teeth might crack. But I didn’t care. Not when she looked like that—wrecked. I didn't stop until her pussy was covered with my come.
She’d taste us both tonight.
I released my cock to press her thighs open, bending down, I teased her, dragging my tongue through her folds. Her whimper didn't stop me. It spurred me on.
I tasted us—tangled in heat and salt, the evidence of everything we’d shared. With everything gathered in my mouth and the lingering taste still on my tongue, I moved above her.
Her eyes widened, then softened as her gaze dropped to my mouth. She smiled and opened her mouth for me—no hesitation, no shame.
Just that pretty tongue, arched and waiting.
I hovered above her, staring down like a man on the edge of a cliff. She wanted this—my taste, my claim—like it was a promise she craved.
I let my come drip.
Slow. Controlled. A thin ribbon of heat passed from my mouth to hers. It landed right on her tongue, and her eyes fluttered like I’d just kissed her soul. She waited until my mouth was empty, then swallowed. Deliberately. Proudly.
And that was it.
Whatever tether I had to logic, to control, snapped clean in half. She took everything I gave her—and begged for more.
I cupped her jaw, stared down into the eyes that undid me daily.
“You’ll never belong to anyone else,” I rasped. “You were made only for me.”
She ran her tongue over her lips, deliberately slow.
“Was I better than my mother?”
My body went still.
“What did I tell you?” I growled, curling my fingers around her throat as I leaned in. “We don’t mention her in this room.”
Her eyes gleamed with mischief.
I kissed her hard, claiming her mouth until I felt the tension bleed out of her. When I pulled back, she was smiling—smug, and provocative. She lived to test me.
“You know damn well how far gone I am for you,” I said, tightening my grip just enough to make her pupils flare. “No one will ever compare. Ever.”
When she complained about not being able to walk tomorrow, I’d remind her whose fault it was.
Chapter 20
