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“God… yes… yes, sir.”
Giving her other nipple its own tweak, I gripped her hips again and no longer held back. I thrust balls deep and began to piston my hips. My balls slapped against her pussy with each stroke, quickly becoming covered with her arousal. It wasn’t the slow, easy lovemaking of this morning. This was primal. It was a man claiming a woman—the act imprinting on both of us that we were no longer two separate people. We were connected body and soul into one.
Not wanting to punish, but to drive her arousal higher, I slapped her ass as I plunged in again. Moving from cheek to cheek, refreshing the color that I’d painted on her cheeks earlier.
She arched, pushing her ass up higher, crying out with every stroke of hand and cock until she was begging.
“I-I need to come… God, I-I’m going to come!”
I fucked her harder, faster. Ready to explode, I dropped a hand to her sex, my fingers instantly soaked as fluid practically poured from her. Her clit was slippery, swollen, and so fucking engorged that I was able to easily hold it between my thumb and finger.
“Come!” I commanded, closing my fingers, pinching her clit and she screamed. Her ass muscles contracted so hard that I couldn’t move. Convulsions moved along my shaft as I erupted so explosively that it was painful. My roar filled the room as I filled her ass with cum. She continued to come, her entire body shaking until I had to reach around her waist to support her as I finished emptying into her.
I was breathing as if I’d run a marathon, my heart pounding so hard I could swear it was going to stop, and yet I’d never felt anything so blissful, so damn all-consuming before in my life. As I began to retreat, I could hear her mumbling the same word over and over again.
“God… God… God…”
“No, just the man who loves you with every cell of his being,” I said, my cock slipping out as I rolled to my back, pulling my wife along with me.
She collapsed against me, her breathing as hard as mine, her skin coated with sweat. Her hands slipped under me, hugging me close. Her ear was pressed over my heart, her legs twining with mine.
It was several minutes before either one of us could speak without gasping. She lifted her head, her cheeks wet with the tears that were falling from luminous blue eyes.
“Thank you. Thank you for loving me. For being the man I need so very much but don’t deserve.”
She yipped as I slapped her ass. “You deserve so much more, Hannah, but thank you for accepting me.”
I pulled her up my body, cupping her face between my palms as I kissed her long and hard until, once again, we both had to gasp for breath. “Thank you for being mine.”
“Every inch,” she said, dropping to give me a gentle kiss.
“We should shower,” I said without an ounce of enthusiasm.
“Later,” she murmured, her eyes closing.
Smiling, I adjusted her until she was spooned against me. I’d experienced terror at the thought of something happening to her and then joy beyond measure as we celebrated the blessing of no real harm coming to her and our commitment to each other. Closing my eyes, my hand gently cupping her breast, my leg thrown over hers, I said a prayer of gratitude, knowing that tomorrows were never promised and vowing to make sure that every day, every moment that we were granted on this Earth, my wife, my babygirl, would know just how much she meant to me.
