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I grab her hips and flip her over, lifting her onto the table. She moans and sits down, glancing at the plates a few feet away.
They don’t seem real.
How were we eating dinner a short while ago?
All I can think about – all that exists for me – is my woman lying on the table, her cleavage thick and teasing in the dress I chose for her.
“Get those tits out,” I snarl, bringing my cock to her pink glistening hole, wet and shiny with her juices.
She does as I say, fiddling with the dress.
I push into her as her breasts spill free, her nipples as hard as I remember them.
I grab both breasts in greedy handfuls, squeezing them and pushing them together, playing with her nipples as I pump my length into her tight wet horny hole.
She moans and grinds against me.
“You’re close,” I growl.
She nods, her moans making speech impossible.
“Do it,” I snap. “Squirt on this dick.”
Her moans turn hollow and she falls back on the table, no longer pumping her hips, shifting and shivering as the orgasm moves through her. I smash into her hole, feeling it quiver in tightness as she comes all over me.
I look down, enthralled by the sight of her come coating the length of me.
“Beg me,” I snarl, palming her tit with one hand and gripping a big handful of mouth-watering thigh with the other.
“Beg me to come in you.”
“Please,” she gasps, still in the throes of her orgasm. “Come in me, Ryland. Please. I want it. I need it.”
She screams and I groan at the same time, collapsing atop her, bringing my lips to her neck and kissing, and biting, and groaning like a savage against her fire-hot skin.
Her hole kisses my dick as I come deep inside of her, quivering against me like her womb is welcoming my seed.
“Oh my God,” she whispers, her fingernails running through my hair. “Tell me I didn’t make a fool of myself. Tell me this is real.”
I pull back and stare into her eyes, as my cock slips out of her.
“You were amazing,” I tell her firmly. “You were everything I could’ve dreamed you’d be. You were – you are – the woman of my dreams. And no, this isn’t a trick. This is the real thing. I’ve put a baby in you now, Rosie. You belong to me.”
“Forever,” she gasps, her smile wavering. “That was better than I ever expected my first time to be.”
“The way you pumped those hips…”
“I felt so silly at first,” she admits, a blush spreading across her cheeks.
“There was no need,” I say. “It was sexy. It was hot. Everything about it was.”
She clasps my face in her hands.
“Thank you,” she says.
I smirk, stroking my thumb across her cheek.
“You’ve opened those thick beautiful legs for me, giving my cock free rein on that tight slit, and you want to thank me?”
I chuckle.
“I’ve struck gold with you, Rosie.”
She giggles, and then grows serious.
“Don’t you ever forget it,” she says.
“Never,” I snarl. “It’s Rosie and Ryland for life.”
Chapter Seventeen
Rosie
I lie in his arms, squeezing his gnarled, muscular forearm against me.
After the dinner, and the sex, we decided to come back to his bedroom for a lie-down. His bedroom is large and modern, with marble floors covered in plush white rugs, a bar in the corner, and electronic blinds made of faux marble.
We lie in soft yellow mood lighting on his king size bed.
“That was quite the dinner,” I murmur, moving my hand over his body and squeezing onto the massiveness of it.
Everything about him is so big, as though his need to protect me and our family is bulging against the gargantuan physicality of him. He’s huge and primal and beastly.
And mine.
After the sex, when he made my insides sizzle and sing, I finally understood what mom meant when she said I had to know.
I knew before, but now I feel it deep in my bones, deep in my soul if such a thing exists.
I feel it pumping through me, cheering, my womb quivering with the onset of a release.
“Let’s hope all our meals are like that,” he teases.
I giggle, slapping his hand playfully.
“What if we were in a fancy restaurant, huh?”
“Then I’ll kick everyone out before I claim that sweet hole,” he chuckles.
“You’re crazy,” I laugh. “There’s no way you’d do that.”
“If you’re tempting me with that fucking glorious cleavage, I just might, Rosie.”
I moan, squeezing onto him hard, feeling the tension of him through the thickness of his muscles.
“Ryland, what did you mean when you said your dad’s name meant something?”
“I said that?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” I say. “Before we…”
“Fucked like animals?”
He tickles my neck with teasing fingers. I giggle and turn against him.
“It means Bucky Radley was a respected hitman who lived by the same code as me. It’s the code he taught me.”
