Page 70 of Dragonfly

Thwack.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why does that feel so fucking good?”

Damien laughs as he reaches between us, using his magic hand to rub my clit now. He must be able to tell that I’m already chasing my orgasm, courtesy of his slaps, and the way he controls my body so easily in other ways has me clenching down on him as I explode around his cock.

“Because you’re fucking your husband, wife,” he says as I keen out a whine, too distracted by the sensations rushing through me to really pay attention to what he’s saying—until he takes advantage to my lapse to flip me onto my back as easily as he did before.

“And now it’s time for your husband to fuck you, Savannah.”

My legs are already feeling weak from my climax. That doesn’t stop Damien from lifting up one of them, hooking it over his shoulder so that he can fuck me even deeper.

And even though I can’t bring myself to believe that this man will ever truly be my husband, I let him.

Because, at this moment, I can pretend…

I lay on the mat, too boneless to roll over and find my shorts. Then I remember that Damien used his stiletto to slice through the fabric of both those and my panties so that he could get to my pussy easier. They’re basically useless now.

Oh, well.

Damien is perched on his side, propped up on his elbow so that he could look down at me with that daring half-smile of his. Apart from the sweat slicking his hairline, and the way his tank is molded to his chest, he looks as perfect as he did when we started. This man has a whole decade on me, but I’m the one who’s panting heavily as I come down from my orgasm.

Smirking now, he moves his free hand so that he’s playing with the curls covering my pussy. At least, that’s what I thought he was doing until he dips his pointer inside of me.

“There.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure that stays inside of you where it belongs.”

His come? Why would he do that. Propping up on my elbows now, I say, “It doesn’t matter. Your swimmers are cut-off. You’re shooting blanks.”

“I was. My surgeon told me that it could take anywhere between a month and year before sperm returns to the semen. I have an analysis scheduled at the two-month mark, but I just got the all clear to return to strenuous activities.” He runs his hand over my thigh, squeezing the inner side of it. “And I think we can both agree that was pretty strenuous.”

I’m confused. Did he just fuck the sense out of me? He might’ve, because I don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Huh? What?”

“My vasectomy reversal.”

“You got it reversed? When?”

“Two weeks ago. Didn’t you notice how careful I have to be with my cock? I promise you, those two weeks were hell, knowing that I wanted nothing more than fuck my wife, but I couldn’t until the swelling went down. But for you, I did it.”

I’m sitting up straight now. “You did? Why?”

“Because I saw the look on your face when you’d learned I’d had one done. Because I only did because, if I did have children, they would be with my wife. You are my wife. So I had the procedure done. It’s not a full-proof guarantee that we will have children one day, but in case you want to try… I’d give them to you if that’s what you want. I’d give you anything.”

Anything, it seems, but my freedom.

The reality of that is like a bell clanging deep inside of my mind. It echoes, making me want to cover my ears. But since Damien would probably take that the totally wrong way, I just use my hands to start climbing back up again.

“Savannah?”

“I’m okay.” No, I’m not. “I just… that was a lot. The training, I mean. I think I’d like to go upstairs, shower, change, and maybe take a nap.”

Or, you know, try to make some sort of sense of what Damien just told me.

“Of course.” Quicker than me, he gets to his feet. “Here. Let me help you up.”

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