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Eagerly, I nod.
Sitting back up, he hooks my legs over his arms and presses his cock into me, sliding past the ring of muscle until I am overwhelmed by this new feeling of fullness.
“You okay?” he asks, pausing once he’s seated all the way in.
“Yes,” I groan, my back arching and my legs starting to tremble.
And when he starts to move, a low growl emits from his chest, staring down at the place where he’s fucking me.
“Fuck, baby. I wish you could see this. It’s so fucking hot. My filthy little kitten.”
His thrusts are slow, but he goes so deep each time, I feel as if our bodies are one, more so than during regular sex. One of his hands finds mine, clutching our fingers together in a tight grasp while the other reaches for something on the bed. My mind is already so sidetracked by sensation that I don’t register what he’s doing until the vibration lands directly on my clit.
The scream that comes out of me will definitely get us kicked out of the hotel—for sure, this time.
My knees part even more, his cock picking up speed, and I practically levitate off the bed. This feels like nothing we’ve ever done before. Even with the plug, which we’vebothused since that first time. This is like all of the best sensations rolled into one. Forget fireworks and climaxes, my body is one giant explosion of pleasure.
Our hands are holding each other so tight, my nails are digging into the skin of his palm. He’s fucking me hard now, grunting with each violent thrust of his cock. Until finally, we both come undone. My body is deep in the throes of my orgasm when he quickly pulls out, spilling his cum all over my belly. The tingles across every square inch of my flesh are so intense I can’t even feel the warm jets he’s expelling.
It feels like hours go by as we both gasp for air. I don’t fall asleep, but I’m definitely not entirely awake when I feel him delicately wiping my skin clean. After tossing the washcloth into the bathroom, he collapses next to me on the bed, his hand resting on the softness of my belly, the exact spot he just cleaned for me.
He’s been doing this a lot lately. He always seems to be thinking about what our future might hold. The man who was once perfectly content with bachelorhood—or so he said—has been the most eager for each forward step in our relationship. Moving in together, getting married, buying our first house, and then this.
As badly as he wanted to, we didn’t jump right into the baby making after the wedding. He wanted to be ready, at least as much as he could be. For him, that meant at least one solid year of therapy and antidepressants, and a solid three hundred and sixty-five days of proving to himself that he had everything under control. My faith in him never wavered, not once.
The episodes haven’t gone away completely, and they never will. But at least he’s able to get through them now and still be a loving husband and hard-working club owner. And hopefully soon, a devoted father.
I was actually happy we took this time for ourselves. As badly as I craved carrying a little blue-eyed bundle of joy, I really wanted some alone time with Garrett first. I had just started having sex and working at the club. There were so many kinky things I wanted to do and explore before a big belly got in the way.
“Are you asleep already?” he whispers against my forehead.
“Almost,” I reply. As I curl into his arms, every muscle in my body cries in pain. We’ve fucked more in this hotel than we have in the past two years, and that’s saying a lot, considering where we work.
It was his idea to come to Japan for our anniversary this year, and I have a suspicion he brought me just for the karaoke experience, which has been the second-best thing we’ve done all week. Last night, we rented a room while he got drunk for the first time in over a year, just watching me sing my heart out until I almost lost my voice.
Then, he made me sing the entirety of Fiona Apple’s “Criminal” while I sat on his lap, his hand up my dress. Getting through the last chorus was nearly impossible. As it turns out, singing during an orgasm isn’t easy.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“Fiona Apple,” I mutter sleepily.
“Oh yeah, that was fun. Hey, we should have a karaoke night at the club. People can sing while they fuck,” he says with far too much energy for a man that just came so hard he nearly broke the bed.
“That’s a terrible idea, babe.”
“If anyone could pull it off, it’d be you,” he says, kissing my cheek.
“Emerson would never go for it.”
“Probably not.” He yawns, pulling me against his chest.
“Besides, I’m about to be too busy to take on new projects at the club,” I murmur. “Assuming this trip worked.”
“Well, if it doesn’t, we’ll have to keep trying.”
“Good plan.”
Our voices are barely whispers at this point, sleepy mumbles through the darkness. But before I drift off to dream about sex-club karaoke, I softly say, “I love you.”
His arms squeeze around my shoulders. “I love you too, brat.”
The End
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