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“Fuck. Mav. That was…”
“Not it,” I bark, lifting her slight body effortlessly until she’s on all fours.
“Oh yes,” she mutters, dropping to her elbows and sticking her ass up in an offering.
Pulling my arm back, I spank the flawless skin of her backside, watching in delight as it reddens for me.
“Mine.” I growl. “You. Are. Fucking. Mine.”
“Yes. Yes. Please.” She pants, wiggling her hips. Her slick pussy glistening in the early morning sun, making my mouth water.
I spank her again, obsessed with my vivid handprint against her pale skin.
“You want more, babe?”
“Always,” she confirms a beat before I slam into her from behind.
Her walls ripple around me, welcoming me home as I bottom out in her in a way I couldn’t achieve when we were lying down.
“Ready?” I ask, my muscles pulled with my need to unleash on her.
“So ready. Make it hurt, Husband.”
“Fuck,” I bark before pulling out and slamming straight back in. That little reminder that she’s mine, all fucking mine, makes my head spin and my balls ache in the most delicious way.
Being with her like this after so long, it’s intoxicating. It makes me forget about ever having doubts and reservations about treating her the way I dreamed of.
In only seconds, the room is filled with the sounds of our skin slapping together and our heaving breaths. And it’s not long until her moans, mewls and cries for more flood my ears.
Fuck. They’re the best fucking sounds in the world.
I knew they were, I used to stand outside her slightly open door and listen to her get herself off. It was the most beautiful kind of torture. But knowing those sounds are because of me. It’s a whole new level of pleasure I didn’t know existed.
I didn’t care about any of the women in my past, and I’m ashamed to say that their pleasure was never my priority. But with Alana… I could spend my days just watching and listening to her come and never need anything more. Okay, that’s a big fat lie. I need her like I need my next breath.
Sweat beads at my brow as I continue taking her more roughly than I should, knowing she’s sore. But I can’t stop myself. I need more. Always fucking more.
When my desperation to see her becomes too much, I slide my hand up her back, the heel of my palm bumping over the notches of her spine until I’m able to wrap my fingers around her throat again.
But this time, I don’t cut off her air supply; instead, I drag her up until her back is to my chest once again.
Her skin burns mine, my blood at boiling point with the softness of her skin against my ink and hard muscles.
I release her throat in favor of her jaw and twist her to face me so I can claim her lips.
“I’m fucking obsessed with you, Doll,” I confess, our mouths pressed together before I plunge my tongue into her mouth, and tangling it with hers.
My free hand finds her clit and I play her until she’s right on the edge. But I don’t let her fall again. Not until I’m ready to unload in her.
“Please,” she whimpers, ripping her lips from mine.
“Fuck, you’re incredible.” I pant before kissing her again. I need every inch of her touching me, anything less isn’t enough.
This time when she starts whimpering, her pussy clamping around me as her release surges forward, I don’t stop it.
“Alana,” I bellow as my balls draw up and pleasure shoots through my body.
“Mav,” she cries, suddenly going limp in my arms before we crash to the bed.
