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“Seriously. Chanel’s been through a lot and I don’t want to hurt her,” said Mateo.
“Man, you’ll be fine.”
“I just want everything to be special for her. I want her to enjoy tonight.”
“She will, man. Believe me, things will be fine. Don’t worry; her getting raped and making love to her husband are different. She loves you, so just be confident and stop over thinking shit. It’s your honeymoon, and you already wasted most of it by being on the phone with me,” said Pyro. This phone call was killing him. The last thing he wanted to know was the exact time Chanel and Mateo would make love. However, he had to suck it up. She wasn’t his.
Mateo felt better with Pyro’s reassurance. “Yo, you’re right. Thanks.”
“You know I always got your back.”
“You do, and I got yours. One, my nigga.”
“One.”
Mateo went back inside to see Chanel coming out of the bathroom in a sheer pink teddy and sexy panties. Mateo stood there in awe and thought, Damn, I’m glad I married you.
“How do I look?” she asked him.
He was almost speechless. “You . . . you look so damn beautiful.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
He sighed and she continued to smile. He felt twelve again—eager and excited like he was having sex for the first time.
“C’mere, you,” he said.
Chanel sauntered to her husband, who picked her petite frame up and walked her to the bed that was decorated with rose petals. Gently, he laid her down and drank in her beauty for a moment.
Mateo started at her small feet, sucking her toes and slowly working his way up. He took his time, peeling off her lingerie and positioning his body between her curvy thighs. He began nibbling and sucking on her clit and started to taste her juices. Chanel’s hips subtly began to gyrate as he inserted his index finger into her warm pussy. She was so wet and so turned on as her husband tasted her.
“Ohhhhhh….Oooooh,” she moaned. Her sweet voice was turning him on. He wanted to please her.
His tongue swirled around inside of her until he was confident that she was ready for more. There wasn’t an inch of her body that wouldn’t get his attention. His strong hands massaged her thick thighs, tracing her sexy silhouette as he planted wet kisses against her flat stomach. Her large, perky breasts were explored as his mouth sucked her areolas until her nipples were at full attention.
Mateo maneuvered himself on top of his wife in the missionary position, for now. He was still apprehensive about entering her and triggering any negative feelings.
“You ready?” he whispered.
“I am,” she sweetly answered.
Slowly he penetrated her and started to make love to his beautiful wife. As his girth spread Chanel’s tight walls, she moaned her pleasure. Their bodies connected intimately as Mateo inched deeper and deeper until he had almost fully entered her. He tried to be gentle with her, but Chanel grabbed his ass and guided him farther and faster—helping him pick up the pace.
“Fuck me,” she cooed. And he did.
In fact, she wanted to switch positions. She got on top and wanted to ride him. Mateo was caught off guard. She started to ride his dick like a pro—she even reached down for his hands and made them cup and squeeze her tits as her ass gyrated against him. Mateo’s big dick had Chanel forgetting about her fling.
Whoa! What the fuck! Mateo mouthed. He wanted to make passionate love to her tonight, but it looked like Chanel wanted to fuck—hardcore too. She began responding in ways that kind of shocked him.
“Ooooh, fuck me, baby,” she cooed. “Fuck me!”
Mateo didn’t know what to think.
The next morning, as they were lounging by the pool that overlooked the ocean, Mateo was trying to focus on the positive. Yet, something about last night was bugging him. The sex was great—maybe too great. He started to replay her moves in his mind, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d had sex before. There was something seasoned about the way she moved that gave him pause. Mateo had been with plenty of women—none of them inexperienced—and not many could take all of his dick the first time he fucked them. But Chanel wanted it—all of it—in different positions and repeatedly. Was she truly a virgin before she was raped? Was she with someone else while he was down and out in the rehabilitation center? What was it she wanted to tell him that day before he stopped her?
Something was off, but he couldn’t confront his sweet wife and insult her. He felt if he was wrong, then it would traumatize Chanel forever and she would think that the rape had tainted her in some way. So Mateo kept his suspicion to himself.
Chanel emerged from the pool with her long hair flowing off her face and hanging low down her back. Her skimpy yellow bikini had many men doing double takes. Slowly she approached her husband with a distinctive walk—a walk only a long night of fucking could trigger. Mateo knew the walk well.
