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I pull out and push her down until I’m on top of her. “Open, baby.”
Straddling her face, I unload into her mouth, hitting her lips with milky ropes of my release. God, this is so fucking filthy. But she laps me up with a smile on her face.
She loves challenging me, and I love making good on my threats. “Now get in our bed. I’m going to fuck that tight pussy for the rest of the day. You wanted me home. You’re gonna pay for that with a sore cunt.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Katya
Lachlanreachesdownandlifts me into his arms after a very salacious threat to fuck me until I’m sore. But it’s him I’m worried about.
“Your stitches!” I bellow.
“It’s fine. I can’t feel anything other than my cock pulsing right now.” He hikes down the hall carrying me into the bedroom.
I’m reminded of the blood splatter in the bathroom but push that away. Lachlan’s reaction to my going down on him struck a match to my sex. If he’s not inside me soon, I’m going to combust.
He lays me down and dives right into my center with a tongue that drives me crazy. “So fucking wet and sweet.”
“Just for you.”
“Damn right. This is mine.” He fingers my slit, and my womb clenches. “That’s right, baby, get that one out of the way. I’ll give you more. So much more.” He continues to lick and suck on me until I can’t breathe or see straight.
“Lachlan,” I say his name, choking.
“Aye,” he groans. “What does my wife want?”
“I want you inside me.” A feeling of emptiness attacks me.
“I want you on top.” Lachlan squeezes my ass cheeks and rolls onto his back.
The bed is a mess of sheets and blankets. I don’t even get a chance to make the bed, we’re in it so much.
“We need to change these sheets. We do despicable things on them.” I climb on top of him and sigh in happiness at his heavy cock, stiff once again, and waiting for me.
I lower only one knee and tease him, rubbing my wet center along the crown.
“Fuck…” he groans.
When it’s slick enough, I slowly lower onto his shaft. He stretches me so sublimely, the fullness is delicious and devastating.
“Easy, baby. My nine inches will hurt you,” he groans as I keep lowering.
“I can handle you.”
“Aye, you can. That’s why I love…” He can’tloveme. We’re just getting to know each other.
I lower my head, shocked at what he’d say. “That’s why we fit.”
“We fit perfectly.” He tugs me down until my chest presses against his.
His cock strains to bend at that angle, the pressure stretching me even more.
“Now. Shut the fuck up and fuck your husband’s cock like a good girl.”
“Aye.” I bless him with the saying he and his brothers throw around. I could answerDa, but I don’t speak Russian. AndOuidoesn’t feel right. I don’t feel French or Russian.
All I feel is Irish. Nine inches worth!
