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“Who taught you to have such a dirty mouth that’s begging to be fucked?”
“My husband,” she purrs, licking her lips as she looks over her shoulder.
“You’re fucking right I did,” I growl, kissing her madly and increasing my tempo.
I swallow her little pants of pleasure as I ram into her over and over again, until her legs begin to shake, threatening to give out.
I’d never let my love fall like that though, and she knows it. Layla knows that despite whatever life throws at us, I will always be there to catch her, even if I’m the one doing all the hurting. I hurt her body so good that she goes to her knees and prays for an angel to save her, but it’s no angel that arrives—no, it’s the devil himself who answers her call. It’s me, and I save her repeatedly by offering her my body, heart, and soul.
They are all hers to do with as she sees fit, after all.
Right now, all she wants is my cock to push her over the edge and give her the mind-blowing orgasm she craves. Like the dutiful husband I am, I’m more than happy to oblige her every whim and desire. I roll my hips behind her, with one hand on her waist while the other skates around her body to grab a handful of her breast.
“Alaric,” she sings as she rises to the heavens and finds her glorious release.
I will never tire of this.
Watching my woman come in my arms is one of life’s purest miracles, and Layla has made sure to spoil me with them since the day I put a ring on her finger. Just watching her come undone so beautifully has me following her over the edge, never willing to part from her for too long, even in this.
I drop my head onto her shoulder, hugging her tightly, our heaving chests slowing down simultaneously. I fix her skirt and pull her panties up from her ankles, smirking when I see my cum still dripping down her thigh. I run a finger through it before turning her around in my arms, her lips already parted for my treat.
“Such a good girl.”
“I aim to please.” She gives me a cocky wink.
“If I thought we could get away with it, I’d like to test that theory,” I murmur, putting away my twitching cock that is more than ready to take her on again.
“Oh my God. The party!” Her eyes go wide as reality finally dawns on her. “The cake! I was only supposed to grab the birthday cake.” She slaps my shoulder to push me away so she can dash over to the spare fridge we have in the garage. “I told everyone outside that I wouldn’t be more than five minutes.”
“Should have thought about that when you asked me to come help you, swaying those hips and that gorgeous ass in my face. You know damn well I can’t fuck you in under five minutes. Even a quickie needs to be twenty minutes tops.”
“Alaric, can you stop? Someone might hear you.”
“Oh, I think our guests heard plenty, baby girl.” I laugh, taking the ice cream cake off her hands.
She scrunches her nose at me and walks ahead, but the way she purposely jiggles her hips to catch my eye has me laughing my ass off.
This woman is perfection.
And all mine.
We climb the few stairs that lead us to the kitchen, only to find Zoey stomping her foot with little Gage and Sophie tugging at her skirt as soon as we open the door.
“You two are an awful influence on me. You know that, right? Shameless. Absolutely shameless.”
Layla’s cheeks turn deep red at her sister’s light teasing.
“Hand me the damn cake, Ric. My nephew and niece have been waiting to blow out their candles for over an hour.” She tsks, shaking her head, but I see the little twinkle in her eye that says she’s messing with us.
At seventeen, little Zoey has grown up to be a total smart-ass, and I couldn’t be prouder. I love the kid as if she were my own. Fuck that. She is. She’s my kid through and through. You only have to talk with her for five minutes to know how true those words are.
Layla crouches to pick up the other light of my life, my beautiful boy Gage, who instantly drops his head on her shoulder and begins to twirl a loose strand of his mom’s hair. I follow my wife’s lead and pick up his twin, Sophie, who squeals in excitement, pulling hard on my beard, reminding me yet again I have to shave the damn thing off.
“Come on, you two. Our friends are waiting,” Zoey orders with a smile, leading us all to the backyard.
My heart swells ten times its size as I follow my girls through our home to celebrate the twins’ second birthday. The halls are no longer empty but filled with family portraits and pictures of vacations and holidays, all announcing how our home is filled with so much love and joy. Sometimes it all feels surreal to me, and I have to pinch myself to remember that this is not a dream, but real life—the life Layla gave me.
Years before she brought light into my life, I used to think I would end up like my father in the end—alone, broken, filled with regret, and haunted by the blood on his hands.
