Page 55 of Married to Number 22
And I can’t take it any longer, can’t hold back.
I’ve made her come with my fingers, then with my mouth, then with my fingersandmy mouth, and now my dick is about to break in half.
I reach for the box of condoms, tearing it open, pulling one out.
A half second later, I’m rolling it down the length of my cock, positioning myself at her entrance. I know I should go slow. I know I should go easy. But my control is fucked, so I thrust home.
Her eyes fly open on a gasp.
“Too much?” I grunt.
“No,” she moans, hips lifting to meet mine as I stroke deep. “It’s good, Aiden. God,that’sgood. Don’t stop, I?—”
I can’t stop.
Probably couldn’t even if my life depended on it.
That sexy as sin dress that caresses every inch of her gorgeous body crumpled up around her waist, yanked down to expose plump, delicious breasts.
Those heels that sparkled and teased and now are currently digging into my back as I fuck her hard and fast.
Naked flesh that goes pink and slick.
Gray eyes that are shot full of lightning as she comes on my tongue.
And now…on my cock.
She convulses around me, pussy clamping so hard my eyes roll back. “That’s it, sweetheart,” I groan as my own orgasm rises up and sucks me under, yanking me beneath the current, sending my own strokes wild. I lose all rhythm, all control.
But it’s okay.
Because she’s lost in her pleasure too.
“Aiden!” she cries as my vision goes black, my limbs go heavy, and then I’m fucking decimated by my orgasm, torn down to the bones and built back up again, piece by piece bypiece. By the time I manage to open my eyes, to descend back to Earth, it’s to find that I’ve collapsed on top of Luna.
“Shit,” I mutter, realizing I’m probably crushing her and lifting up, rolling us to our sides.
I lose her, my dick sliding free of the slick, tight clasp of her pussy.
“I liked it,” she murmurs, arms looping around my shoulders, her leg hitching around my waist. “The weight of you.” She nuzzles at my throat, lips pressing lightly to my skin.
“Good,” I say, smoothing my hand down her back. “Because I don’t think I could have moved anyway.”
She giggles softly, shoves a strand of hair out of her face.
I snag her hand, kiss her knuckles. “You like it?” I ask about the ring I bought her.
Shy eyes. Pink cheeks. Her fingers closing around mine. “It’s too much.”
“No, it’s not.”
I mean, should I have gone as all out as I had for a ring for a marriage that’s essentially a business agreement?
Probably not.
But it’s Luna.
It’s Luna and me.
