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“God, yes!”
“That’s what I am, Liberty. I’m your husband and you’re my wife. There’s to be no shame between us.” He said this and she heard it for the comforting vow that it was.
There had always been that unspoken give and take between them that worked for reasons she didn’t dare examine too carefully, but they’d never discussed it. Mason voicing what they were to each other was comforting. His words baptized her, validated the assumptions of their love already in her head.
“I am your wife,” she affirmed.
“My wife! Mine.” He pressed deeper and the scratch of his pubic hair pressed against her newly shaven pussy as their pelvises kissed. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You, Mason, I belong to you!”
At her words something inside of him broke loose. He began to fuck her in earnest. His hips pummeled into the cradle of her thighs and she knew she would likely be sore by bedtime, but she needed him to continue.
His thick cock stretched her in a way it had never done before. As his thrusts gained force the hard tip of his shaft tapped against her g-spot. With each touch her body throbbed. That inner stimulation combined with the steady friction over her clit was maddening.
Scrape, pulse, flutter, pound, tap, scrape, pulse, flutter, pound, tap…the crescendo built and she shouted as he grunted with each pound of her flesh. The fluttering of her channel combined into a little internal earthquake as her clit pulsed. Their slick bellies glided over one another as Liberty’s gaze followed the thick cords of Mason’s neck working with exertion.
And then he did something that changed everything. Perhaps he didn’t even realize he did it. Perhaps he was so lost in the incredible moment his mind surrendered to his body’s direction. He shifted his position and with his left hand he firmly gripped her wrists above her head. His authority and strength mentally threw her into absolute bliss and her body shattered in a physical mirroring.
Her pussy clamped down hard on his fat cock and hot jets of semen filled her channel. Mason roared and threw his head back.
It wasn’t making love. It was fucking. But to Liberty, it was one of the most beautiful, extraordinary, and freeing moments of her life.
Mason collapsed on top of her, careful not to crush her. He panted into her damp shoulder. As his grip loosened on her wrists something inside of her unraveled, as if his hold had been keeping her reality at bay and now it was coming back. All too soon she remembered the trail of watermarks in the foyer and the scent of chlorine that would permeate the sheets.
Mason would have to hurry to make it to the hospital on time for his shift and she sympathized with the rush that would taint his evening. Unnecessarily, she dreaded it for him, but he would handle it in stride. He’d probably eat from a vending machine rather than take the time to visit the cafeteria, so she would have to make him something quickly while he showered. That way he could at least have a shot at something nutritious.
“I feel a gorgeous woman in my arms, but I’m afraid her mind is somewhere else in the house,” he mumbled, lips pressing into her hair. “Where are you? Mopping?”
She laughed with dry sarcasm. “Ha-ha. For your information I was mentally making you a sandwich, smarty-pants. You’re going to be late and I don’t want you to skip dinner.”
He purposefully poked her with his softening cock still buried deep inside of her. “I won’t be late and even if I was I wouldn’t care. One day I plan to teach you the true meaning of post-coital bliss.”
“I know what it means,” she argued.
“Perhaps, but I’ll make it my own personal goal in life to make you surrender to it. One day, Libby, I plan on loving you so long and so well, you will sleep for days and never have to worry about scattered papers or shoes dropped in perpendicular disarray rather than properly placed in parallel perfection.” He laughed and she didn’t mind. It was true. He knew her better than anyone. There was no use denying it.
He kissed her softly then pecked her on the nose. She gave him a persnickety smile.
“Yes, Mrs. Davis, I believe that’s my new goal, to one day have you kicking off your shoes at the idea of making love to me and never looking back to where they fall.”
Chapter Three
When Mason came down the steps he smirked at the telltale streaks of fading wetness and detected the lemony fragrance Libby favored when it came to cleaning their home. His sneaky little wife had somehow found the time to mop the foyer while he showered. He found her in the kitchen folding over the top of a brown paper lunch bag. She must’ve snuck into one of the other bathrooms to grab a quick shower.
