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Her tits rising and falling, impatient to be next, waiting for my mouth.
Her tight little pussy, aching to be filled, quivering against my fingers as I work them deep inside her.
Fuck.
The entire rest of my existence is nothing but noise.
Her looks, her moans, her shudders will always take priority.
And she grips my shoulders, her eyes hazy with unrepentant lust.
I’m damn glad we have tinted windows. Otherwise, we’d be giving a few stragglers wandering off the main path a show they’d never forget as I unhook her bra and tug her top away to reveal the most perfect nipples.
I suck one and get back a sigh so erotic I almost come in my pants.
Her body welcomes me, hot and wet as ever, writhing against me like pure sin.
“You already have the rest of my life,” I tell her. “You had it from the start. I was just too stubborn to know it.”
She whimpers.
“Shepherd!” Her fingers grab my shoulders, almost painfully hard.
“Sweetheart, if you want something, take it.”
She grabs my wrist and removes my hand. Then she unbuttons my pants and frees my cock, rubbing it against her entrance. We don’t bother to work off my pants.
She’s so fucking wet for me, and I’m transfixed.
“I want you,” she says fiercely. “That’s it. No games. Just you.”
And just like that, she slides on top of me, engulfing my cock.
The sugar rush of slick heat down my shaft short-circuits my brain.
Her feet are braced on either side of me as her hips plunge down, swing up, and come down so quickly, greedy for more.
One hand presses against the window as she finds her balance. There isn’t enough space for me to do half the things to her I want to, but we'll make it work.
Even so, it’s some of the best sex ever in our hyperactive love life.
No, not just sex—this is soul.
My body welded to hers, our lips fused together, rocking gently as she gasps and moans and clenches.
I groan my delight into her mouth.
She nips my bottom lip.
I bite back harder.
We wrestle for control just like we always do, racing to the finish, a contest I won’t let her win, but God help her, she tries.
That’s one of the things I love about her most.
And there are so many little things on a list the size of the Mississippi.
Even through her moaning, her pleasure, the insistent motion of her hips, her eyes wet as she meets mine.
