She stares down at the diamond ring with tears in her eyes. “Tripp…”
“You know I wanted to go way over the top, but I knew my angel wouldn’t want that. I went for sweet and practical, like you.” I run a thumb over the black stones that encircle the diamond. “This is your dark matter. Holding you together.”
Her chin lifts on a husky sound, twin tears coursing down her cheeks. “It’s perfect.”
“The ring might be perfect, but I’m not, angel.” I haul her close, pressing my forehead against hers. “I’m asking you to please marry me, anyway. Let me be your husband.”
“Yes.”
Her lack of hesitation is everything my heart needs. My own eyes grow wet, but the joy of knowing Vida is going to be my wife doesn’t dull the starvation of my body. Not one iota.
In fact, her agreement, and the way she allows me to slide the ring onto her finger, only makes the need to cure my lust more imminent.
“Come here, angel,” I say, my breathing already labored, my hands almost clumsy in their haste to yank her off the island and fill her with my stiff cock.
“Tripp!” she screams, her cunt tightening up around me like a fucking zip tie, making me roar a curse. Holy shit, she puts all the gifts I gave her tonight to shame with the silk extravagance between her thighs. She shakes in my arms, moisture seeping out of her and onto my ball sac, already in the throes of her first orgasm of the night, and I haven’t even pumped once. “Oh God! Oh God. I wasn’t…I wasn’t expecting…”
“You weren’t expecting it, but you were ready as fuck, weren’t you?” I clutch her ass cheeks in my hands and start to bounce her, those tits doing magical things in front of me, thanks to her hands still being bound behind her back. Jiggling and shaking, her nipples like little rosy pegs, the necklace catching the light every time I slap her up and down my pole. “Did Daddy’s money make you wet? Is that what happened?”
She closes her eyes and bites her lip.
“It’s okay, you can tell me,” I urge hotly, surging my hips upward, faster and faster, the sound of our smacking flesh loud in the closet.Smack smack smack. Unholy, wet sounds, layered with whimpers and grunts. “This pussy isn’t going to keep any secrets from me.”
My nuts are like rocks with the knowledge that there is, once again, no latex to catch their contents. It’s murder not to flow into her like a river, but it feels so fucking good in her tiny cunt, I want to make it last forever. Huffing and puffing in my sexual misery, I throw her leg over my head and spin her on my cock, planting her face down on the island.
“Fuck yes,” I release on a hot exhale, the sight of her naked ass separated by valuable pearls pushing me closer to the edge.God, so close. Then there’s her parted legs in stockings, dangling down the front of the island, shaking every time I drive my cock into her, her bound hands straining at the small of her back. It gives new meaning to the worderotic. She’s the epitome of it, and I’m helpless to do anything but cram my dick into her sodden hole with jagged pumps. I pump and pump, leaning over her so I can see her sweet profile.
And that’s the end of me, right there. Because she’s biting her lip and whining.
Blushing like a schoolgirl.
With my diamonds twinkling all over her body.
“That’s a spoiled little girl, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Son of a bitch!”
My spine and testicles stiffen abruptly, and a whirlwind of euphoria rips through the lower center of my body, a fist of pleasure punching me right where I need it. In the gut. Between the eyes. My dick spasms and sprays like an out-of-control firehose, my hips still raking desperately up and back against her hot, bent-over ass, my come overflowing and filling the crease between her ass cheeks with milky fluid while the rest splatters onto the marble floor.
“That’s it, angel. Let that body work its magic. Make me a father.” I bury my face in her hair and sink my dick extra deep, giving her those final excruciating drops of semen, mentally begging them to take hold in her young, fertile uterus. “Goddamn, look what you’re letting me do. Breed you at eighteen. Because you know I’m going to take care of you.”
“Uh-huh. I know you will, baby,” she says, sounding like she’s floating in the same oblivion as me. “I love you.”
“I love you more, Vida,” I tell her, my throat heavy.
With love making me feel full and sated and possessive, I fight through my exertion and unwind my belt from her wrists, throwing it onto the floor. Turning her limp body over gently, I make a sympathetic sound when I find her drowsy, looking almost confused, as if the pleasure was too much for her body and mind to comprehend. I lift her off the island, carrying my replete fiancée into the bedroom, already hearing the scampering of little feet running through the house, and I smile as I lay her down.
Mine.
EIGHTEEN
Vida
This iswhat it’s like not to have a single care in the world.
I’m in the back of Tripp’s town car, nestled sideways in his lap, my body sore and satisfied. We left his home in Beacon Hill half an hour ago, and we haven’t stopped staring into each other’s eyes. His fingertips stroke down the side of my face, his arms secure and warm around me. The car engine hums, and soft acoustic music plays.
