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I sputter a laugh and my pussy convulses, tightly hugging his cock.
Harry groans, daring the faintest thrust. “Please don’t do that again. I’m literally going to drop dead if you do that again, it feels so fucking good.”
He may have the self-restraint of a monk, but I don’t. The slickness. The warmth. The way his manhood is stretching me. I’mdyingfor some friction.
I start to rock my hips from below. Harry grips my waist and he starts to rock, too.
Our bodies begin to move of their own accord, setting a pace we can’t fight, picking up speed.
It’s hard and it’s fast and it’s too fucking good.
I grip onto his shoulders, meeting him thrust for thrust as my breasts bounce rhythmically. I try to maintain eye contact, I try not to lose myself completely but my eyes keep fluttering closed as I screech his name.
“This isn’t going to last long, Dream Girl,” I hear him speaking through my haze. “But I promise you a round two very fucking soon—”
He reaches between us and pinches my clit between his fingers. I stiffen and explode before he can even finish getting out his assurances.
My back arches off the couch and I shout his name one more time as relief ripples through my body.
There’s not a second of hesitation on Harry’s part. The instant I start to come, he’s coming too, softly chanting my name as he empties himself. “I love you, Nadia. I love you I love you I love you, Dream Girl.”
“Oh, god. I love you, too.” I cling to him, feeling high and delirious. “I love you…”
He scoops me into his arms and crushes my sweaty body to his. Everything goes silent around us and a calm exhaustion I’ve never felt before seeps into my bones. The world feels perfectly still. Perfectly right.
I’m so overwhelmed by my feelings for this man. My husband.
I sigh contentedly, snuggling into Harry’s warm arms as we lay across his comfy oversized couch.
This couch really is quite comfy. When my brain and my voice are fully functioning again, I should ask him where he purchased it. I should look into replacing my own. I had forgotten that couches could be so comfortable. Mine’s all stiff and formal and not cozy at all. And why the hell am I thinking about the couch right now?
Yeah, looks like I’m drunk off that mind-blowing orgasm Harry just delivered.
I have so much to say, so many emotions to express. Gratitude. Amazement. Fulfillment. Love. But my vocabulary is nil. So I grip his arms, holding them around me. I love being like this, folded up in a too small throw blanket and Harry’s big, warm limbs curled around mine. I don’t ever want this man to let me go.
His fingers comb through my big mess of curls, and I practically purr like a cat. I can’t remember a time when any man’s touch felt this good. My exes were more of the ‘wham bam, see ya when I see ya’variety. Without the ‘thank you, ma’am’at the end.
This?
This is nice. It feels meaningful.
Harry peppers my sweaty head with kisses, whispering sweet things into my hair. Just when I’m starting to get really comfortable and feel like I’m on the brink of dozing off, he eases out from beneath me.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells me, tugging on the boxers he finds on the floor.
“Where are yougoinggggg?” I whine, and since when did I become so needy?
“Hold on,” he says to me.
He’s probably only gone for a minute or two, but with the cuddly mood I’m in, it feels like forever. When he comes back into the living room, he’s holding a plate of cookies in one hand and a tall glass of milk in the other.
“Gingerbread cookies?” I laugh, sitting up to admire the cute, little frosted snowmen with their red and green hats.
His shoulder rises then falls as he sets our snack down on the table beside the couch. “I was sad before you showed up. Christmas makes me happy.”
I pull him down beside me and ball up in his arms again. “I’m sorry I made you sad.”
He reaches for a cookie and brings it to my lips. “You more than made up for it, being here right now.” He gets cozy behind me again. “I still can’t believe you just showed up on my doorstep like that, but holy hell, I’m glad you did.”
