Off the suite’s big bedroom is a wet room with a huge stainless steel shower head in the center.
We get a lot of foam going under the cascade of the shower. I wash every part of her. Every lovely curve and crevice.
I can see she’s not used to being treated gently, and I’m not used to being gentle, either, so I keep it energetic and playful.
I haul her upside down and suck on her pussy. She tries to suck me off, but while the shower patters down on her ass and her lips, she keeps giggling and spasming.
She pleads, “Move out from under the shower.”
I just grab her head and pull her tighter. Tell her it’s rude to talk with her mouth full. I can’t even tell if she gets a real orgasm, she’s laughing so much.
I get the feeling she hasn’t done that in a long time.
Still, her pussy tastes like heaven. A dark, sinful heaven that flows with righteous wrong. So I can do this all day.
Eventually, by wriggling and wrestling, she gets turned the other way up. Her legs crossed around me, me holding her by her ass. And looking in those sharp, constantly changing eyes. My cock is fat and hard.
She winces and gasps. Her eyes stretch and roll as I plow and saw all the way up her. All the time we’re in the flow of the shower.
At one point, her eyes are screwed tight and her lips are pressed together, the color rises in her neck. Before I know it, she’s reached the shower control and flipped the water to freezing cold.
She screams and drives deeper onto my throbbing pole. Then her ass rocks and cannons into me. I feel the trembling pull of her wet velvet walls.
The third time she comes, I let go. I slam and pump into her, piping her full of hot, thick jizz until it flows out and down her thigh.
She scoops it up in her palm. Her eyes roll as she and laps it up.
As we’re drying each other very thoroughly, she asks me, “Do you really think I’m ready to start taking on the family business?”
“No. Of course not. But like I said, you’re never ready. There’s no point waiting until you are ready. You never will be. You have to do all you can to get ready.” I lift her chin. Look into her eyes. “You said you wanted it?”
“I do.”
“So. You’re smart. Figure out what you need to know, and learn. Get help. Make yourself ready.”
Then I say, “Forget that. Here’s the important question.” She looks nervous.
I ask, “Do you want babies?”
Her face relaxes. “Babies? Hell no. Noisy, needy, filthy things.” She pulls my head down to rub my hair with the towel. “I might be willing to put up with them for a few years though.” While she dries my ears and my neck, she says, “If it got me a few little replicas of you I could boss around.”
“You don’t feel like sticking around to boss me?”
“Sticking around, sure.” Her eyebrow crinkles. “I don’t see bossing you ever working out or ending well though.”
“So.” I ask her, “How about the other thing people come to Vegas for?”
“Hasty and ill-considered marriage?”
“What do you say?”
“Isn’t it traditional to become dangerously intoxicated first?”
“I don’t think I’m ever going to get drunk around you.”
“Don’t trust me?”
“No.”
“Probably wise, roadrunner.”
“But that’s not the reason. I don’t ever want to miss an instant of you.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“It that it?”
I said ‘okay.’ What more do you want?
‘Okay’ as in, you’ll marry me, live with me forever, have a zillion of my babies, love, honor, and obey, in sickness and in health…
“Stop at ‘love,’ okay? You’re good up to there. Quit while you’re ahead, Giovani.”
“With you, Lily, I’ll stop at love, and I’ll stay.”
* * *