Don't Promise (Don't 3)

His kisses dropped lower until his head was between my legs. I pushed his head lower, needing his tongue, loving his hot mouth at my center.

“Fucking demanding,” he growled, spreading my slick folds.

I hissed when he flicked over my clit and sank a finger inside me. God, it felt incredible. Our bodies had a new connection. A married connection.

His tongue lapped between my slit, sucking my clit until I screamed for him to let me come. “Please, Cole. Please.” I panted.

He traced my thighs with his finger and I felt the emptiness without him filling my pussy. “Please,” I begged. “Fuck me.”

He crawled toward me his massive body the only thing I could see. I loved him. I loved his hard planes. I loved his long lashes. I loved how he loved me. How he protected me. How he married me in my parents’ garden under a New Year’s Eve snowfall in front of everyone we knew.

He pulled my bottom lip between his teeth. “My wife wants me to fuck her?”

I nodded. “Oh she does,” I teased.

“God, you kill me, Kaitlyn.” His hand ran along my heat until his fingers sank inside me again. I bowed off the bed with satisfaction. “My sweet dirty wife.”

I purred as he coaxed my hips into action.

“Your sexy body is growing my babies.”

I nodded, biting my lip. I rubbed my breasts, they were on fire for him.

“Keep doing that,” he moaned.

He fisted his cock in his hand. I watched in awe as he pointed his thick shaft toward my center. The vein throbbed along his length. He pushed it slightly inside me. I whimpered as it stretched my walls. And with a forceful thrust he was deep inside me.

I rocked into him, my hips swaying with their own desire.

“You’re mine,” he growled.

I nodded, staring into my husband’s eyes. I didn’t know if there was anything sexier than knowing Cole Thomas was finally my husband. That we had been married a full twenty-four hours and I loved him more than I did yesterday. That in a few months we were going to be parents.

He hooked an arm under my knee, spreading my legs farther apart.

“Oh shit, Cole.” I grabbed his shoulders as he drove deep. It felt incredible, as if his body melted into mine.

His breath was ragged and fast. I saw the sweat gathering on his brow. His skin was heated and his muscles tense. His climax was climbing quickly. As quickly as mine was. I loved this about sex. I loved that we could make each other come. That his body was as sexy to me as mine was to him. That no matter what we tried in bed it felt good. That I could say the dirtiest things and feel free. He made me feel like a sex goddess. Like his own sex kitten.

His demands made me feel desired. His commands made me feel powerful.

I purred for him. I moaned his name. I screamed when his cock pushed me to my limits.

He pumped in to me. One. Two. Three. His final thrust sent us over the edge, throwing us in a pool of ecstasy. We were drowning in our lust for each other. Swathed in an afterglow.

He kissed me hungrily. I tasted the salt on his lips. There was a hint of tequila. I smiled.

He collapsed next to me. “On a scale of one to ten. Best fucking honeymoon ever.” He laughed.

I giggled against his chest. “I think maybe this should be our New Year’s resolution.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

I turned to face him. “We spend Christmas in the snow and New Year’s in the Caribbean.”

“With or without the kids?” His eyebrow cocked.

“Without.” I winked.