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39
Anton
Saturday 6:30 Pm
My first act as a married man—properly, this time—is to fuck the mouth of my buxom bride.
Not just by choice, either. No, if I had it my way, we might have reveled in the joy of our second matrimony in twenty-four hours for a moment or two. I would have held her close, kissed the corners of her mouth and thanked my lucky stars that for once, my mother’s meddling finally paid off.
But Percy Owens is fucking insatiable.
And Percy Owens doesn’t like to hear the wordno.
Seconds after closing the carriage door, Percy finds my zipper.
All I can do is laugh at her brazen attempt to get me undressed, mere minutes after we saidI do. I assuredly smile, knowing that I just made the best damn decision…again.
I think I’ll be one the happiest, most satisfied married man in the world.
Her ruby red lips purse at the sight of my dick, springing out of my tuxedo pants. She bends down and licks my shaft, teasing it with her skilled tongue.
I’m already hard for her. Fuck, I’ve been hard since the moment I saw her, and those glorious tits walking down the aisle. The gasps at herunconventionaldress only made me ache harder.
God, I fucking love this woman.
She stops, and I recoil at the loss of her touch.
“What the—”
She looks at me with a devilish grin. Holding my cock and thumbing its prominent vein, she travels up my body, igniting my every nerve.
I drink her in. Licking my lips and falling in love with the fact that I get to see and experience this—her—every fucking day of my life.
And now, this. My Percy in awhitewedding dress enclosed within a royal carriage.
Who the fuck would’ve thought?
Everything about this scene is orgasmic.
Her breasts bounce ever so slightly as she moves up on me. The strapless corset of the bodice leaves nothing to the imagination.
She reaches me finally, and I grab her.
I kiss her aggressively, pinning her to the other corner of the carriage. She falls onto me, whimpering as the heat rises between us. Our tongues fight, playfully against each other, leaving us breathless and hungry.
She pulls me closer, though her damn fucking dress impedes any skin-on-skin contact.
“What the fuck, Percy? This god damn dress!”
I fumble with the material, trying to move it out of my way, but having little luck.
“Not a fan?” she laughs.
“Oh, I love it on you,” I reassure her. “But I’d love it much more if it was in fucking tatters on the floor.”
“That can be arranged,” she says with a smirk, her eyes wild with desire.
My lips crash back into hers, and I hear her faintly laugh as the momentum quickens.
