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With my arms around her thighs, I hold her still, close to me, driving myself into her again… again… shaking the table and everything on it. She cries out every time our bodies crash together, and that makes me move faster, makes me more determined to feel those muscles crush me as she comes.What a way to go.
“Who do you belong to?” I close a hand around her throat, and her body goes still for a moment before she responds by jerking her hips. Silently urging me to give her more. “Tell me.”
“You!” she manages to groan. “Only you!”
That’s right. Only me. Only ever me. Mine to taste, to touch, to fuck, to claim.
To love.
Yes, I love her. I love this hot, gorgeous, precious woman. Legs spread, tits bouncing, red-faced thanks to my hand clutching her throat but moving harder and faster, too, because she wants it. Because she is perfection.
I lose my rhythm toward the end, now eager to fill her with my cum, the silverware jangling in discordant music that blends with our mixed cries until she clamps down on me and my balls fairly burst, rope after rope of cum shooting out of me and into her. It’s dizzying, it’s ecstasy, it’s everything. I have everything in the world, here and now, buried balls-deep inside this woman.
“I love you,” I pant, falling against her when it’s over. “I love you, Winter.”
Her eyes are shining when I finally lift my head. “I love you, too,” she whispers, shy suddenly. I might find it funny if it didn’t feel like she just gave me the greatest Christmas gift imaginable.
Though as I shove my cum back inside her when it begins to drip out, it occurs to me there could be an even greater gift somewhere down the line. Perhaps by next Christmas, we’ll have someone to spoil together.
The idea is enough to get my motor running again. “We’ve officially christened the dining room,” I murmur, nuzzling her throat and smiling to myself at the idea of breeding her. “Where do you want to go next?”
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