Execution Style (Code 11-KPD SWAT 4)

His eyes widened as he took in the stairs, me, and then the stairs again. “I can move everything downstairs…”

I snorted. “I was just kidding. I think I can handle the stairs. Don’t worry.”

I could tell by the look on his face that he was going to worry, but I chose not to make a big deal of it, and went about touring the house.

“Oh, wow,” I said. “This kitchen is beautiful.”

The countertops were a dark, slate gray. “Are these concrete?”

He nodded. “It was interesting seeing those going in. Your men are miracle workers.”

“My crew did this?” I asked, turning to look at his face.

“Yep,” he said, pointing at the cabinets. “They did those, too. The guys and I just focused on the things we were good at. Such as painting and the floors. The back deck was us, too.”

I followed him through the house as he pointed out this and that. He sounded so proud of what he’d done, that it nearly made me laugh.

I managed to hold it in, though.

“And this,” he said, stopping at a closed door. “Isn’t either one of ours.”

I blinked.

When he opened the door, I gasped.

“Oh,” I breathed.

I walked into the room slowly, taking in the soft gray walls, and the dark gray carpet.

There wasn’t much more than that to see, except for one, single thing.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, running my hands slowly over the beautiful wood. “Where’d you get it?”

“Online,” he said, running his hand over the wood, too. “I got round because I thought it was cool. All the other cribs looked bland in comparison.”

The crib was a unique one that was for sure.

It was completely round with a gray tint to it. The structure and craftsmanship of the crib was exquisite.

“It’s beautiful, Miller. I love it.”

Tears started to slowly leak from my eyes, and I turned to see him staring at me, studying my face with a small smile kicking up the corner of his lips.

“I’m glad you like it,” he rumbled. “It’s non-refundable.”

I snorted. “You’re such a shit.”

He pulled me into my arms, and walked me out of the room, taking me to the last door that we’d yet to see.

“And this,” he said, throwing open the door. “Is our room.”

It was massive. The walls were a similar color to the rest of the house, but the crown molding at the top of the ceilings really made the color pop.

The only thing in the entire room, like the baby’s bedroom, was a bed.

This one was a four-poster king sized behemoth.

“Wow,” I said, walking up the bed and flopping the top half my body down onto it. “This thing is massive.”

“It’s big enough to get the job done,” he agreed, pushing up behind me.

Suddenly, my mind wasn’t on the décor anymore. Now it was focused on more important things. Such as the fact that I’d just married the man currently grinding his massive cock into the crack of my ass.

He slowly slid his hands around my hips, zeroing in on the apex of my thighs.

Once his hands reached their desired location, he started to rub along the seam of my jeans, rubbing me so perfectly that I moaned in need.

“I think we should have some married sex. See how it compares to non-married sex,” he rumbled, going down to his knees behind me.

I went up to one hand and jerkily unbuttoned my jeans.

The rasp of the zipper was loud in the empty room, seeming to echo off the walls.

I swallowed thickly, and waited with impatience as he slowly slipped my jeans down over my hips.

His hot mouth started to trail kisses up the inside of my thighs as he lifted tugged my tennis shoes free from my feet.

Then leisurely divested me of my socks, pants, and panties.

I gasped when he licked the seam of my sex, his tongue poking into my folds as he licked me from my clit all the way to my perineum.

“Oh, sweet mother Mary,” I gasped, eyes rolling into the back of my head.

His tongue went to town, teasing my clit, licking my juices up, and fucking me to the best of his ability. Which was fucking great.

There was never one thing I’d complain about with Miller. He always read me like an open book, and never failed to get me hot and bothered.

“Please,” I gasped, pushing back into him.

He chuckled against my pussy, rubbing his nose and lips up and down my thigh. “Please, what?”

“Fuck me.” I gasped out.

“Fuck me…please? Fuck me…now? Fuck me…husband?” He asked for clarification.

Some of the lust haze cleared, pulling my mind back to the here and now long enough to say, “Fuck me now, husband, please.”

Oh, man, it felt awesome saying those words.

So I said it again. “Husband, I want you now. I want your hot, fat cock inside me, filling me up so full that I can’t see straight. I want you to dig your feet into the carpet at our feet, and pump me so full of you that I…yes!”

He filled me with his cock so quickly that I never even had time to think.

One second I was talking dirty to him, and the next he was inside of me, pumping so hard and fast that I couldn’t catch my breath.

His hand went up and ripped the band from my hair, causing my long brown locks to fall into a tangled mess against my back, which was what he’d obviously wanted.

He took a firm hold with one hand, while the other went to my hip.

“Feel good?” He asked, rotating his hips so the head of his cock ground against that sensitive spot inside me that only he’d been able to reach.

The only thing I could do was grunt in affirmation as I closed my eyes and clawed at the bare mattress, looking for purchase where there wasn’t any.

“H-harder,” I said, needing something more.

I could practically hear the smile on his face. “What else do you want, baby girl?”

I closed my eyes and whispered. “Your eyes. You on top, filling me hard, staring into my eyes as I come.”