“Your friend woke me up on Thanksgiving. It’s only fair that I sharethe love today of all days… PRESENTS.” She wiggles beneath me. And just as I figure my brat of a wife is going to wriggle out and away to the pile of gifts in the living room underneath that godawful tree she picked out—one that’s bright pink and has a glowing silver star atop it—her legs splay beneath me and she bucks her hips.
“Presents,” she breathes, extra gustily.
My brow lifts.
“Finally, he gets it!”
I smirk at her eye roll then nip her earlobe, which has her melting beneath me.
The faint tremor that shimmies over her skin has me smiling to myself as I mutter, “Presents.”
“Yesssss,” she moans when I maneuver between her thighs.
Just a couple minutes of her squirming had my morning wood turning into an erection, but the fact her silk teddy has twisted under her, making her lower half bare to me while her arms are still bound by the duvet, has my hard-on shifting from “in need of dealing with” to “orgasm required. Stat.”
I’d be surprised by her slickness if I hadn’t figured out she’s quick to warm up but harder to keep heated.
My dick rocks over the silk of her, allowing me to revel in her warmth, in the juices that flow freely for me.
Her pout makes a reappearance when I don’t instantly devour her but lean over to the nightstand. Rolling her head on her silk pillow, she watches as I retrieve a small box.
When I lever up, she whines as my dick rubs over her clit. “First gift, then second.” I punctuate that with another rock of my hips.
Licking her lips, she fights free of the duvet—shame—snags the box, and pops it open. “Ohhh, I love them! More ladybugs! My fave!”
“They’re custom-made.” I pause as she squeals and slips one from the velvet insert. “They have a tracker in them.”
Her squeal dies. Her eyes round. And she gapes at me.
A flood of slick coats my cock.
Of course she’s sending me mixed signals. Would she be my wife if she didn’t?
“Does mykorovkalike the idea of me always knowing where she is?”
Her throat bobs and she releases the sexiest whine I’ve ever heard in my goddamn life.
“Put them in for me,kotik,” I rasp. “Let me see them on you.”
She obeys. Unusually quickly for my brat.
I brush my lips over her earlobe then whisper, “I’ll always knowwhere you are. Always be able to find you. Nobody, no fucking Veronian, willeverkeep you from me.”
A whimper escapes her. “Max.”
Because my wife’s a biter, I feel zero guilt in grazing her neck with my teeth before sinking in, just enough for her to release a guttural groan.
Humming, I retreat only so that I can stare down at her.
Eyes at half-mast, hiding gluttonously thick pupils… she’d be my version of a siren even without one slender strap slipping down her shoulder. Her tits are only visible from underneath the bedding because they’re so perky. Hair’s a mass of tumbled waves that curl around her throat, twining about her curves, highlighting them to perfection.
“Mine,” I rasp.
Contentment lights up her face. “Yours.”
Of course, she writhes beneath me, sliding more of her juices over my dick, enticing me from below.
“You know what you are?”
