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I capture Ivy in my arms faster than words can leave my mouth.
Our lips meet in a passionate kiss. I slide my arms around her middle and pull her close, her barely-covered breasts heaving against my ribs. “I love it. And it gives me the perfect opportunity to give you your present.”
Ivy tilts her head to ask a question but then her eyes go wide as I let go of her and drop my kilt, freeing my cock.
She gasps, then gets a heated, excited look on her face. Slowly, she turns and bends over the side of the table like the good girl she is.
“Hold on tight,” I instruct her.
Her trembling fingers barely have a moment to curl around the rough wood edge on the far side of the table before I plunge into her.
“Yes, Cyran!”
I’ve taken such good care of her that she wants for nothing. All my Ivy wanted for Christmas this year was a surprise secret moment with just the two of us. We’ve been so busy raising our half-elves that we never seem to have time to ourselves anymore.
I thought that a lack of foreplay would hurt her, but I find my wife slick and ready. And so tight I gasp for air.
I push so hard the legs scrape against the slate floor. “Is this what you wanted? No foreplay? Just my whole cock buried inside you at once?”
She squeaks a barely audible, “Yes!”
“Ready yourself, woman.”
“Yes, Cyran.”
My favorite words from her ruby lips echo in my head as I drive into her, putting all my love and need and possessiveness and jealousy into her.
“Did you like the way that orc was leering at you, wife?” I grip her hips and pull her back against me as I thrust. She’s forced to let go of the edge, and I love the way she scrambles for purchase.
“Did it make you jealous?” Ivy asks.
I lean over and growl into her ear. “You know it drove me mad.”
“Then I liked it,” she says. “I think jealousy made you even bigger.”
I answer with a pounding thrust that has her moaning and squeezing me so tight I can barely breathe.
With her face resting on the table, she looks back at me and spreads her legs wider. My mouth waters at the sight of the tiny rosette between her cheeks.
“Do it,” she says, reading my mind.
Ivy writhes against the table, and I find myself feeling jealous of the wood itself.
Quickly, I position her so she grips the closest edge, allowing her to push back as she pleases, and allowing me to reach around and finger her clit as I thrust into her. Soon enough, her luscious body jerks as her orgasm takes hold. She contracts around me and I can’t hold back, releasing into her.
While she moans through her release, I pull out and kneel behind her and let my hunger take over. Spreading her plump cheeks, I move in close, and taste that dainty, tight spot.
Come again? I just might.
“Cyran! Oh my god!” Ivy cries.
“You are still my perfect present, my little human,” I growl between long, deep licks of her sweet sugar. “My perfect present. Every year.”
THE END
