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With a roll of her hips, she lowered herself all the way down onto me, until the tip of my cock compressed against her cervix, sending a shockwave of pleasure up through my balls and into my abdomen.
She looked me in the eye, clenched my cock with every ounce of strength in her god-given pussy, and said, “Do your fucking job and come for me. Right now.”
Holy fuck. Those words. That attitude.
My orgasm caught me completely off guard. Since the beginning, I’d been fucking powerless against her—now, more than ever before.
“You little brat,” I growled as I shot my hot cum into her sinfully tight little cunt. “You perfect fucking brat.”
The next morning, I pressed into her from behind before she was even awake. Fucking her into consciousness, I held her close, going slow, being gentle, keeping her close and safe. She inhaled slowly, sighing as she realized what I was doing.
“Hello, husband,” she said, soft and sweet. She was facing away from me, but I could still see her cheek pinch with a smile. Pulling her closer, I nestled my jaw against her and kissed her neck. I looped my arm around her hips and she tucked her knees, giving me better access into that pussy that I craved so fucking much.
“Sleep alright?” I asked her, flexing my ass to get deeper inside and relenting only once I felt my balls brush the back of her thighs.
“Did we sleep?” she said, her voice all sleepy and sexy.
“Nah, but who fucking needs it?” I asked, as I nibbled her earlobe. “I don’t need to drink. I don’t need to eat. The only thing I need to survive is you.”
She laughed softly, hardly more than a wrinkle of her nose and a shiver of her body. But it was enough to draw me out of my early-morning brooding intensity. If she was happy, I was happy. Easy as that.
Keeping my left arm tight against her breasts, I slid my right arm down her body and found her clit with my fingers. I kept my thrusts steady and regular as I stimulated her clit, feeling it swell between my fingertips. As her breaths became less regular, more jagged, I knew she was getting close. Every time I brought her to ecstasy, I could feel her trusting me to guide her more and more. That was exactly where I wanted her to be; I needed her to know, in her soul, that I understood her pleasure, better even than my own.
“I’ve got you,” I growl-whispered against the shell of her ear. “So just fucking let go.”
She surrendered then to me, completely, dissolving into my arms and letting herself ride the pleasure that I was giving her. Before long, she was coming strong but soft, gripping and then releasing my dick with wave after wave of her orgasm.
Once she was finished, I stayed inside her, holding her close and feeling her drift off to sleep. But then a knock came at the door—it was one that I expected, but she didn’t. She jumped in my arms and groaned at the interruption.
Normally, I’d have been pissed as well. But this time was different. The surprise behind the door wasn’t just breakfast; it was something that I’d wanted her to have from the first second I saw her. Something she and she alone deserved.
Kissing her cheek, I pulled out of her, which she met with a disappointed whine. Just for good measure, I gave her ass a slap before grabbing the sheet and going to answer the door.
“What was that for?” she asked, rolling around happily to face me.
“To keep you in line, Princess,” I said, and then opened the door.
In came a line of three servants carrying coffee, tea, fruits, eggs, bacon. The fucking works. Valeria met every unveiled plate and tray with excited oohs and ahhs. She slipped on a silk robe, fastening the tie into a bow, and picked up a freshly baked chocolate croissant. I watched her sink her teeth into it, totally unconcerned by the mess it was making all over her, and instead moaning into the fresh pastry and melted chocolate. That’s my girl.
Once breakfast was served, my valet appeared with the carved wooden box I’d been waiting for. I took it from him with a conspiratorial wink, and he returned the gesture with a polite nod and a hint of a smile. Locking the door behind him, I turned to her and carried the box over.
“What’s that?” she asked with her mouth half-full, covering her lips with her hand. The stack of rings I’d given her for her wedding glinted in the morning light—my mom’s diamond engagement ring, my aunt’s rubies, my great-grandmother’s pearls, and finally a big whopping infinity band of ice-blue sapphires that I’d had made as her wedding ring. It was a hell of a lot of jewels for one finger, but not even close to all she deserved.
