Page 75 of Walkoff Wedding

I swear to fucking god, she gets even wetter at the filthy words I whisper in her ear. Nodding, she buries her face into my neck and fists her small hands in my shirt, and I use my free hand to hold her tightly against me. Drawing out the movements, I take my time, adding my thumb to circle her clit as I fuck her with my fingers.

Her breathless little pants are hot against my neck as she lifts her hips ever so slightly to try to meet my fingers, rocking like she needs more.

I pull out of her completely before adding a second finger, slowly sinking them back inside of her. She’s so goddamn tight that I move torturously slowly so she’s able to adjust.

“Grant-t,” she moans against my neck, the words vibrating me to my fucking core as her nails rake down my stomach.

“What, baby?”

“More. P-please.”

She’s trembling in my arms as her greedy little pussy swallows my fingers, taking everything that I give her. So, I give her exactly what she asks for.

More.

My movements change from slow and gentle to something different. I thrust my fingers harder, slamming them into her and curling them to massage her G-spot with every stroke. Her thighs shake as they fall open wider, and her dress rises higher, allowing me the briefest glimpse of her perfect pussy.

Pink and glistening, it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. I lean back just slightly so I can watch her needy pussy swallow my fingers. I’m mesmerized as I admire my fingers sliding in and out of her, covered in her arousal and stretching her open wide. My cock is so hard it’s aching as it strains against my pants. One touch and I’ll probably come.

But I’m more worried about her coming.

“Come for me, baby,” I murmur.

The wet, erotic sound of me slamming inside her pussy fills the room, and it’s so goddamn hot.

I wish that I could see her face right now, how stunning she is in her bliss, but she’s buried into my neck, attempting to keep quiet since we’re in this fucking library.

The second I can, I’m going to spread her out on our bed and eat her pussy until she’s limp. I’m going to edge her over and over until she can’t take another fucking second. And then I’ll eat her again.

“I… I think…” Her voice shakes, trailing off when I sweep my thumb along her clit more quickly and bury my fingers deeper.

Her orgasm builds, higher and higher with each thrust, and I can feel her tightening around me.

“Be a good little wife and come for me. I’m going to suck every drop off my fingers.”

The seconds that follow are palpable. Her entire body goes taut, her fingers digging into my stomach, her teeth sinking into my neck as the orgasm rolls through her, and she lets go.

Wetness floods my hand as she comes, her body trembling with the intensity.

Her delicate, throaty little cries wash over me, sending a jolt of arousal pulsing through my body, so powerful that a low groan rumbles out of my chest.

“Good girl. You did so good, baby,” I praise, moving my fingers slowly, drawing out every ounce of her orgasm until she’s limp and sated in my arms.

Slipping my fingers out of her gently, I tug her panties back into place, my other hand reaching up to stroke her hair. When she sits up, peering up at me through a heavy-lidded stare, I do just as I promised and lick every fucking drop of her from my cum-soaked fingers.

And nothing has ever tasted so sweet.

I couldn’t focus on anything besides my wife for the rest of the day. How could I after the unexpectedly fucking hot moment in the library this morning?

She’s making it impossible to concentrate on anything other than her.

I worked out for over an hour today after class, stretching and weight training, but even then, it didn’t take off the edge. The need to go home and repeat what we did this morning, only with my tongue as well as my fingers, is invading my every thought. I’m going to have to take the longest shower of my life tonight, undoubtedly.

As I turn the doorknob to the front door and push it open, the first thing I notice is it smells amazing. I can’t figure out what it is, but something delicious. Which means that Addie must have cooked dinner.

Before I even shut the front door all the way, Auggie waddles over and jumps against my legs, his way of begging for a head and belly scratch, his usual way of greeting anyone who steps through the door. My guy is a slut for attention, and he always gets it.

“What’s up, buddy?” I say as I bend down and scratch his furry head. I rub his favorite spot behind his ear, and his leg thumps against the hardwood. “Yeah, I know that’s your favorite. Where’s your mama? Let’s find her, and then I’ll give you a treat, okay?”

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