Cherry Pie

Besides all of that? Well, it’s just school, getting excited for the next time I get to see the man I love, and planning for our wedding, which is slated for a year from now. After that, it’ll be two more years, and then I’m done with school and with him full-time, forever. I brought up the idea of skipping the whole college thing once or twice. I mean, let’s be fair—Marshall is literally a billionaire. It’s not like I need a degree. But he insisted, which honestly, I love about him. He insisted that an education was important, no matter what I ended up doing, and that he “damn well wasn’t going to be the guy to stop me from reaching my full potential.”

I’ve mentioned once or twice how much I love him, right?

And then there’s the million-dollar question everyone always loves to ask, especially with our age difference: kids. Are we having them, do we want them, how many, don’t we realize that Marshall would be sixty when he or she graduates high school?

Blah. Blah. Blah.

Trust me, I’ve heard it from about a hundred people in various ways, and all I do is smile and say, “we’ll see.” But the honest truth?

…Of course we’re having kids. Just, not now. That’s another Marshall-mandated waiting period. If it were my choice entirely, I’d ask him to knock me up yesterday. I mean, I’ve never been baby crazy or anything, or even really thought about children until I was much older, but there’s something about him that just brings out this animalistic need to procreate. It’s like being with a man like him has my ovaries on overdrive, constantly. Like there’s this evolutionary switch inside me that he turns on that just screams “breed me” whenever he’s got me in his arms.

…Biology is weird, man.

But, again, we’re waiting. At least until I graduate. But the day after? Well, I won’t be held accountable for pinning him down and riding his big, beautiful cock over and over until I’m damn sure it’s taken inside.

The wind hits me again as I round the corner to my building and run up the three steps to the entryway. Paul, the door guy, smiles at me, letting me in and hitting the elevator button for me. Yes, I know most college freshman don’t exactly live in luxury doorman-building condos. And it’s not even a Marshall thing where he insisted I live here. He was actually totally on board with my living in the campus dorms, but I didn’t last long. My room was fine, my roommates were neutrally fine, and it’s not like it was terrible or anything.

Except whenever Marshall came to visit, you’d have thought I was hosting a gang bang live sex show in my room by the judgy, snide, bitchy way basically every other girl in the dorm looked at me. After the third time, we went out that very afternoon and found my condo

…Yeah, enjoy your coed bathrooms, shitty showers, and people stealing your shit out of the dryers, dorm bitches.

The elevator dings open, and I hoist my bag onto my shoulder as I reach for my keys. I’ve got a little work to do, and then I seriously need to clean my place before Marshall visits tomorrow. The door swings open and I step in, locking it behind me. My bag drops to the ground, and I shrug off my windbreaker and hang it up before I plod through the condo towards the living room. It’s been a long day, and all I want to do is veg out in front of Netflix or something.

Well, all I really want to do is ride my fiancé’s gorgeous cock until I scream, but sadly, I think it’s going to be Netflix and solo-chill until tomorrow night. Maybe I can convince Marshall to have some sexy video chat time with me.

I sigh as I step into the living room, when suddenly, I shriek.

“Surprise, baby girl.”

Marshall grins as he starts to stand from my couch, but he never makes it to his feet. Not when I go slamming into him, my legs and arms wrapping around him koala-bear style as I slam my mouth to his and knock us both back onto the couch. I moan hungrily, kissing him fiercely and deeply as my hands slide into his hair. He growls, his arms circling me, and his big hands slide down to cup my ass through my mid-length skirt.

“You said you were coming tomorrow!” I pant into his lips, my hands feverishly undoing his dress shirt as his big hands knead my ass.

“And then I thought of waiting even one more day without tasting these lips and feeling you come for me and canceled the rest of my day,” he growls, kissing me hungrily. He yanks at my t-shirt, tugging it up over my head and half-ripping my bra away before his mouth drops to my breasts. I moan, holding his hair tightly as his tongue swirls around my nipple, making me whimper as I arch my back into him.