Page 23 of Tycoon

Andrew was hesitant to delay his entrance any longer, he ripped into me, driving deep and hard into my tightness. He let out a guttural groan, one that matched the scream that escaped me. I closed my eyes and turned away from him.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

I opened her eyes, my walls pulsing around him.

My face burned in passion.

“So sweet. So tight. I'll never get tired of fucking you Amara. Never,” Andrew said, grabbing my hip bones and driving into me again.

I felt the shimmering waves of pleasure from the pit of my stomach all the way down to bottom of my feet.

“You are perfect sweetheart, you're mine You make me feel so fucking good. I'm going to feed you all of this cum because you fucking deserve it. You deserve all of me sweetness.”

I moaned louder from all his dirty talk. Andrew's strokes came harder and faster.

“Yes! Oh yes!” I cried, my fingernails embedding tracks of our passion into his back. Andrew placed one hand on my thigh. The other gripped a plump breast, giving more pleasure.

“That's it my sweetness,” Andrew growled. “Take it. Take it all,” he said, his mouth closing fiercely over one breast as he plunged deeply.

“Oh my,” I cried out, my cries becoming husky. “Please don't stop,” I begged as my climax roared deep inside me. I arched my back, chasing the summit that remained just within reach. I closed my eyes and reached the peak.

Andrew suddenly stopped moving.

Andrew smiled and slapped my buttocks and flipped me onto my stomach. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under my stomach.

I barely had time to adjust to the new position before Andrew slammed into me from behind, his strokes hard, fast and commanding. I buried my face in the softness of the bed face down, ass up. Electrical shocks of pleasure careened through my body.

With each delving thrust, Andrew held onto my hips tighter, gripping as he plowed powerful stroke after powerful stroke into core. I came again.

“I’m fucking coming,” Andrew grated out as he splattered my walls with his seed.

Our sweaty bodies fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs. Andrew pulled me close and pulled the bed covers over us. I sighed in bliss, finding comfort in strong his arms.

Epilogue

Andrew

Ten Years Later

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over our backyard, where the laughter of children echoed through the air. I stood on the porch, watching my twin boys, August and Austin, chasing each other around the swings. Their bright blue eyes and sandy blond hair were a mirror image of mine, and every time I looked at them, I was reminded of how far we had come.

Amara stepped out beside me, carrying our one-year-old daughter, Journee, on her hip. Journee was the spitting image of her mother, with her rich cocoa skin and dark, curly hair. She had my eyes, though, and whenever she looked at me with that twinkle of mischief, I was helplessly wrapped around her tiny finger.

“Look at them,” Amara said, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and amusement. “They never seem to tire, do they?”

I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Just like their father,” I replied with a grin. “And their mother. I remember a time when you used to wear me out with your boundless energy.”

She laughed softly, leaning into me. “We’ve built quite a life together, haven’t we?”

I pressed a kiss to her temple, feeling the warmth of her against me. “We have. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

Our relationship had been one of growth and development. From the early days of misunderstandings and guarded hearts, we had built a bond that was unbroken. Our love was a sign of the power of trust, vulnerability, and relentless devotion.

The boys, noticing us watching them, ran over with matching grins. “Daddy, can we have ice cream?” August asked, his eyes wide with expectation.

“Yeah, please?” Austin chimed in, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Amara chuckled. “You two and your sweet tooth. Alright, but only one scoop each, okay?”

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