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Thrust.
“Fiancée.”
The fact that we’renotnaked drives me more insane with want and need than if we were. My nipples tighten and strain against the silk bodice and he takes that as his cue to suckle one, then the other, while working his thick cock deeper and deeper inside me.
“I’ll fuck you anywhere and everywhere you want,” he promises me. “I’ll make love to you, my incredible woman, wherever you desire.”
His hands rub down my body to grab my ass, lift me higher, pull me onto him.
I can’t think.
I can’t speak.
I can only feel.
Even then, all I can feel is the building tension deep inside where he keeps rubbing and stroking and massaging me with every solid thrust. That, and the tingling sensation in my hands and feet that tells me I’m not going to stay anchored to the bed when he makes me come.
And oh, he doesn’t just make me come.
He makes mescream.
He makes mebuck.
He makes me sob his name over and over until it’s a mantra on my lips and a plea for more.
Because even then, I still want more. I’ll always want more.
More ripping. More tearing. And then I’m warm and naked and rolled onto my stomach, arms outstretched to claw the rose petals he’s fucking me on.
Demyen holds my hips as he drives into me exactly how I want. Exactly how I need. He works us up to the point where all I can do is grunt every time I feel him bottom out inside me, over and over and over again.
I love it.
I lovehim.
I make sure to repeat that over and over again as I shatter once more, this time in tandem with his own powerful release.
He’s filling me. Pouring himself into me.
I love Demyen Zakrevsky.
Demyen loves me.
That’s the very definition ofJackpot.
I don’t know what time it is. It’s dark, even in the casino.
We’re all but tapped out. The windows overlooking Demyen’s empire are smeared with handprints and ass prints and all other sorts of prints because once we started, we couldn’t stop.
Even in the shower, when we laughed and promised each other we would only get cleaned up, I still slid to my knees to, as Demyen accurately described it afterward, “suck his soul through his dick.”
I smile. I haven’t stopped smiling since the morning after everything at the depot.
Since I woke up with Willow in my arms, Princess snuggled along my legs, and Demyen stroking my hair from my face.
He does it even now, half awake and wholly sated. “Can’t sleep?” he mumbles.
I rub my face in his bare chest and breathe him in. I’ll never get tired of this, of him, of us. “I don’t want to sleep. I just want you.”
