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As she hauled me into her, she mumbled, “You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”
“Not glass. Crystal.”
“Same difference.”
“Diamonds then.”
“Diamonds don’t break,” she said breathlessly as she started to rock beneath me. Her hands moved toward my shoulders, and her nails dug into me there as she rasped, “Eoghan, for God’s sake,continues.”
I had no idea why French, for Inessa, meant business, but I wasn’t about to complain.
Dropping my hips low, I ground into her, feeling the ripple of internal muscles as her clit benefited from the move.
“Harder.Plus vite, Eoghan.Mon dieu,” she whimpered as I started to speed up.
Her nails biting into my shoulders, heels digging into my butt, and the incessant ripple of her pussy around my cock were all the encouragement I needed.
The French was just the icing on the fucking cake.
I gave her what she craved, not holding back. I didn’t treat her like glass toward the end, but at first I did. I had no idea why, but she was tighter and she didn’t get as wet until I got her off. I didn’t think she realized that, but I did.
I noticed where she didn’t.
She was mine.
I looked after what belonged to me.
Gritting my teeth, I began to piston my hips. Moving harder, faster, giving her what she needed as I dropped my head and took her lips in a kiss that had her gasping.
Tongue thrusting against hers at the speed of my dick tunneling in and out of her cunt, I stole her breath as I united us both together.
She might be slower to warm up, but once she was there, the heat was a fire that didn’t burn out quickly.
Her pussy began milking my cock, literally dragging the cum out of it, and with short, breathy gasps, I felt her slow devolution into orgasm.
I moved my hands, dragging them down her thighs, encouraging them to spread wider. Letting her feel the bite of the tips in her butt as I pulled her into me, thrusting deeper. Corkscrewing her, as it were, on my cock.
With a scream, she imploded after less than a minute, and as her cunt clamped down, I exploded into her.
It felt like it lasted a lifetime, and maybe it goddamn did. For all I knew, time worked differently when you hit this state of inertia.
But the sheer delirium stayed with me for endless moments as I twisted around so she didn’t take my full weight, encouraging her to follow me.
One hand moved behind her knee, hooked so that my dick would stay inside her for the start of our nap.
Still panting, she followed, and I groaned as the shift in position had my dick being cosseted by different muscles.
Sighing as she settled on me, Bump nudging into my side, her hand fluttering as it found a resting place on my chest, she mumbled, “Merci, mon amour.”
My lips twitched, and before I could ask her why she always talked French at these moments, I felt the softening of her body, the faint slackening of her muscles, and heard the gentle murmurs of her breathing.
On our wedding day, we’d given each other a blood vow. The scars on our palms were still there because, every anniversary, we repeated the vow.
As she drifted to sleep, I tucked our hands together, lining up the scars.
Knowing that she was not only sated but safe, content and comfortable with it, I let my eyelids fall.
My own breathing leveled out, and I could feel the serenity that I only experienced when she was in my arms and I finally slept too.
