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He reaches for my chin, holding my face his eyes boring into mine. “Just so you know, I’ve not touched a woman in years. Enough that I lost count. I wanted you to know that.”
I reach down and guide him forward in response. “I’m not sure how you’re going to get all that inside me, but I’m down for trying.”
“Good girl, because there’s no stopping this now.”
His fingers slip under my shoulders, his mouth on my nipple as he sucks as I spread wide and hold my breath as the first pressure nudges against me.
“Fuck.” He releases my breast. “So fucking tight, I’m already holding back, I get inside you I’m going to blow baby.”
He eases forward as I hold his face in my hands. I wince and gasp as he shoves the first thick inches inside me, the vein in his forehead looking like it’s going to pop.
“I’m going to come so hard, I might blow you right out that back wall.”
I tighten down as he slides in, the hiss of sharp pain exploding outward.
“So tight, this pussy is made to milk my cum isn’t it? That’s what you were built for baby. Milking my baby making cream.”
He buries himself inside me and I wrap my arms around his neck holding on for dear life. He rocks into me, hissing and cursing as he throws his head back and his face is tensed in pain.
His thrusts become more demanding, faster as the pain fades and lusty bliss takes over.
He’s destroying me. Harder, harder, harder as she swears and apologizes but doesn’t stop.
My body is his toy and tears start to seep from the corners of my eyes.
“Come with me baby. Fuck, I’m so close but I want to feel that sweet cherry tell me what it wants. That pretty little pussy wants to suck the cum from my balls.”
His dirty talk is my Kryptonite and I start to spasm around him. I swear I feel him deep in my belly then the first hot ropes of his cum release inside of me.
Pump, pump, pump.
He shoots and groans as I call his name and my own climax takes me into the burst of white light and he bucks forward burying himself in the deepest part of me, grinding against me as I feel his cock jerk and empty, hot cream already seeping out as I pant and go limp under him.
Tor
I lay there with her in my arms, pressing my nose to her hair. She smells like peaches. And I think to myself, This is it. This is heaven.
We went three rounds before she nearly passed out. I held her legs up in the air as she came around. Every time some of my cum started to seep from her tight little opening, I shoved it back inside, then slapped my hand down holding it in.
All my life, I’ve resisted commitment. All my life, I’ve avoided the idea of getting married. I’ve even avoided weddings because all I could ever think was this whole fucking idea is doomed.
But now, here, with her in my arms, and this crazy fucking white-hot fire in my belly and heart? It’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m gonna say something fucking crazy. You ready?”
She turns in my arms a little, looking up at me, long lashes dusting her cheeks as she blinks. “Yeah.”
“I love you.”
She laughs a little. “Tor.”
“I mean it, baby. Seeing you for the first time split me in two. And having you is the only thing that’s going to keep me together.”
She looks up at the RV’s ceiling. She takes a deep breath and runs her fingers over my chest. Light and sweet. “Alright. My turn to say something crazy.”
Fuck. Fucking fuck. “Hit me.”
“I love you, too.”
Christ. My eyes blur with the emotion of it. I can’t even bring myself to look at her because I know I’m going to start to cry for real something I haven’t done since I was probably five. There’s something else that needs to be said. Because love is just words unless there’s action. “I see your crazy thing and I raise you.”
“Alright. I’m ready.” She nods.
“I think we should get married.”
She snorts out a laugh. God, what a beautiful sound her happiness is. “What’s that?”
“I think we should fucking get married. Because there is no universe in which you aren’t mine. And there is no version of this life in which I don’t spend every fucking morning and night just like this. With you in my arms, where you belong.”
CHAPTER 9
Tor
Three years later
I sit back and watch as she takes her third bite of the panna cotta holding our youngest Megan on my knee, bouncing her up and down as she squeals and watches her mother eat.
“So good. It’s a five for sure.” Natalie scribbles some notes on her ever-present note pad as I listen to Sophia at the table next to us explaining to our oldest Chase how to get a perfect sugar crust on top of a crème brule.
