People clapped off in that background, but it seemed so distant now.
I slid in and out of her achingly slow, just so I could remember every freaking inch of her wet tunnel. The bookshelf knocked against the wall to a rhythmic beat that anyone in earshot would’ve known meant that we were making love. She formed around me just right, meeting my moves with her own.
She’s killing me. There’s no way I’ll last.
We rocked into each other, whispering our I-love-yous in between the low murmurs of pleasures.
The crowd roared and cheered again, and still we humped far away in our own world where just two people lived, dedicated to each other, and so complete, it was almost like we’d been one the whole time.
“I love you, Carmen.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?” I bit the edge of her chin and thrust in her hard. “That’s how you respond to me. Yes. Why not ‘I love you too, Adrian’?”
She licked her lips and wound her hips, delivering a shudder that ran through me. I came close to losing my balance, dropping her, and crashing into the ground. Somehow, I remained upright, but knew it would only be a few seconds more before I spilled inside of her.
“Do you like that?” She licked her lips. “I’m answering your question.”
Still inside of her, I paused and stared into her eyes. “What question?”
“You asked me if I would marry you. And I’m saying yes.”
I tensed. “You just said yes. Oh shit. Did you just say yes to that?”
“Yes.” She smiled and then rocked into me so hard and good that we both orgasmed in that moment together, dripping and spurting into each other, groaning so loud, the crowd stopped cheering. And their whispers rose around our moaning.
News of our episode went viral. There were even a few pictures. Some pervert had taken out his camera and recorded the show.
Our love spread all over social media. Paparazzi followed us around endlessly. But it never rocked us. It never shattered us. The world and Dad couldn’t touch us. We stood strong together, writing in our new home and planning our wedding.
We stood strong, and so in love.