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I was already standing. “What about both?” I asked, grinning at her.

It was a bit of a contortion, but we carefully avoided jostling her belly as she managed to hold her heavy tits around my shaft, her head bent down to suck the tip with every thrust as I pumped against her as gently as I could manage.

“Is that good?” she asked me as she slurped at the head of my ramming cock.

I gripped her hair in one hand, the other holding a tit as I fucked up her chest and into her mouth. “It’s so good. I’m gonna come so hard. So fast. Don’t swallow. I want to mess you up.”

“Do it. I want it. Make a mess of me,” she said between sucking thrusts of my dick.

That did the trick. I came in a torrent, coating everything within dick’s reach: her tits, her neck, her clavicle. That gorgeous face, those pouty lips, her cheekbones, her jaw.

I even got some in her eye, which was just rude. There was no excuse for it. I was out of control, marking my territory beyond all sense or reason.

I was washing her in the shower, my hands cleaning her breasts for so long they were past squeaky clean and straight back to filth again.

“If you’re up for it, if you’re not too worn out, we’ll go get married after we get dressed,” I said into her ear.

“You don’t have to do that,” she told me weakly.

“Don’t start with that. Just prepare yourself for it. It’s happening, and soon.”

“I don’t have any clothing, so that might be a problem. I’d prefer not to get married in my café uniform.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “You left a closet full of clothing, but I don’t suppose any of that fits you right now?”

“I could look for something really baggy, but I doubt it.”

I dried us both off and folded her into one of my robes that dwarfed her. It was an effort to stop touching her, but I made myself do it. “Why don’t you go to your old room and see if you can find anything to wear while I start making the arrangements. If you can’t find anything, we’ll stop at your apartment on our way to the courthouse.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

NOVA

I couldn’t find anything in my closet to wear. Finally, Carter put me into one of his big T-shirts and a pair of boxers and we headed to my old apartment to grab something.

I still couldn’t believe he’d said he wanted to get married today, and he really seemed to mean it.

“Do you still hate me?” I asked him after a long stretch of silence in the car.

He’d been much calmer after coming several times, but he was still acting much differently, more coldly, than his old self.

“Don’t use that tone with me,” he finally answered.

“What tone?” I asked, honestly baffled.

“That wounded, wary tone, like I’m some ogre. You know I could never hate you. I was just very, very angry at you.

“Are you still angry at me?” I asked in a small voice.

“I’m getting over it,” he said, but each word was clipped. “The wedding will help.”

“Are you sure you really want to marry me?” I asked. More than anything I didn’t want him to regret such a big step.

He didn’t even seem to hear the question. “If I just don’t think about what would have happened if I hadn’t run into you, I can start to move past it,” he told me, “but the thought of you going through all of this alone with no help. That’s what drives me mad. The idea of you needing me and not letting me take care of you. I can’t stand that. I need you to swear you’ll never do anything like that to me again.”

I didn’t realize he was demanding an immediate response until he added tersely, “Fucking swear it, Nova.”

“I left because you didn’t want me anymore,” I explained to him. It hadn’t been some whim on my part, some desire I had. Just the opposite. I’d done it for him, because he’d shown me quite clearly that he hadn’t wanted me around anymore, and I didn’t think he should have to spell it out, not to mention how much more unbearable that would have been for me. “I couldn’t stay where I wasn’t wanted,” I continued firmly. “I’ve had enough of that. The last four years of my life have been that.”