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Through every dark night, there is a brighter day.
Stephanie had the same quote inked on her. A tribute to the way they met and the strength they both possessed to endure being held hostage by a psychotic gang banger.
No time for a trip down memory lane.
He wrapped a hand around his cock and gave a firm tug.
“Maverick, I’m s-serious,” she said, giving him her back once again. Like that would deter him. A view of her ass hugged by those tiny bikini panties and all that silky blond hair hanging down did nothing but make him drool.
Mmm, mmm, mmm. Lip-smacking good.
Steph rummaged through her top dresser drawer, muttering something about the weather in Florida.
But he’d caught the crack in her voice. Fucking perfect. She wanted it as much as he did.
“There’s no time for this, Mav. I’m sure your dick will survive without being serviced until we get to Florida.”
He chuckled. Serviced. Like he wouldn’t make sure she came first, and so hard she screamed. They were down to seven minutes. He cleared his throat. “Spread your legs, Stephanie.”
She froze, nightgown in hand.
“Palms flat on the dresser. Now.” His voice brokered no argument.
A visible shiver ran through Stephanie, making his lips curl in a triumphant grin. Then, like he knew she would, she widened her stance and placed her hands on the dresser. She arched her back, sticking that delectable ass out in an open invitation. The nightgown she’d been clutching fluttered to the floor.
That’s right, baby. Nice and ready for me.
“It’s cute how you pretend you don’t want it.” He walked closer, then slid his hand over a firm, round cheek. “But we both know it’s bullshit, don’t we?”
He squeezed, drawing a groan from her.
“Don’t we, baby?”
Her head bowed. “Y-yes. We do.”
Blood pulsed through his dick in time with his rapid heartbeat as he slipped his fingers between her legs. Ahh, wet panties. Just as he’d suspected. He tsked. “Soaked, baby.”
As he strummed his fingers over her cloth-covered pussy, she whimpered.
“Mmm, I like that sound.” He was so hard it bordered on pain. If he wasn’t careful, he’d bust the second he pushed inside all that slick heat. Biting his lower lip, he slipped his fingers inside her panties to the slippery flesh beneath.
Fuck, he’d meant to play with her to give himself a minute to regroup, but one feel of her juices and his dick wanted in, desperately.
“Tell me you want it,” he whispered against her ear as he fingered her deeply. His cock nudged her ass, dripping precum on the creamy skin. “Beg for my cock, baby. Fucking beg for it.”
She moaned. “I want it, Mav. Give me your cock.” Her knuckles flexed as she tried to grip the top of the dresser. “Please. I always want you. Always.” She added the last word in a soft, breathy tone full of need but also emotion and love.
God damn, this woman was made for him. He couldn’t have come up with a more perfect partner if he’d created her himself.
He yanked his fingers free, then jerked her panties to the side. They didn’t have time, and he didn’t have the patience to remove them. Less than a second later, he shoved his dick into the sweetest, hottest pussy he’d ever had.
“Oh, God,” Stephanie cried out as he shoved in hard. She pushed back against him, taking him even deeper.
With a growl, he gripped her hips and held her still as he fought to keep from coming on the first pump.
She felt like heaven. Perfection. Hot, tight, wet, needy.
Before Stephanie, he’d rarely hit up the same woman twice. The notion of a repeat held no appeal. One and done had been his motto for his entire adult life. Now, he’d give his right arm to live inside this one woman forever.
His wife.
He stroked up and down her spine, watching his inked hand roam all over her skin. They were beautiful together. She had a few tattoos but none on her back, and he loved to watch his heavily tattooed hands own her flawless skin.
So. Damn. Beautiful.
“Mav?” She whispered when he didn’t continue fucking her. “You okay?”
“I’m perfect, baby,” he said, not bothering to hide the emotion in his voice. He’d long ago learned Stephanie would never judge him for anything he felt. And at that moment, he felt an overwhelming love for his wife. “Love you.”
“God, Mav, I love you too.”
Two glossy blue eyes met his gaze over her shoulder, radiating the same adoration he felt. Then she winked, making him chuckle.
“Ready for hard and fast, babe?”
“Always.”
“Lucky for you,” he said as he slid out, “your personal Santa comes way more than once a year.” He thrust forward, turning her laugh into a throaty moan.
They stopped talking then. No more jokes, quips, or even declarations of love. They needed their breath to keep up with the brutal pace he set, pounding into her again and again.
