I can’t resist her any longer. I spread her legs with one hand and find her already wet and wanting, arching up against my hand like the hungry, greedy girl she is, and that drives me wild. But as I start to stroke along her slit, something catches my eye. A glint from the side table.
I cast a sideways glance at it, and feel a grin spread across my face. With a nod toward the table, I catch her eye. “Put your ring on, Mrs. Quint.”
She stills beneath me, but only for a second. From the way her breath hitches, I can tell she likes the idea as much as I do, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. She hesitates a moment, then reaches across beneath me, her movement making her thighs brush against my bare cock, and sending an aching thrill through my body. She catches the ring, and slides it onto her left hand. “You mean this ring, Mr. Quint?”
“The one I gave you when I asked you to be my wife, yes.” I trace my cock along her inner thigh, up one side and down the other, my hand still working along her slit, spreading her pussy lips, exploring her. Savoring the slickness of the juices that spill out, showing that she’s just as eager for me as I am for her.
“Does that get you hard, Mr. Quint?” She arches a brow, then reaches down to grasp my cock between both hands, stroking my length, her hands tightening just enough to make me groan between my teeth. “Do you like thinking about making me your wife?”
I gaze down at her from beneath hooded eyes. “I like thinking about claiming you for my own, wife. I like knowing you belong to me.” I catch her hands, and gently draw them off my cock. It takes effort to stop her, because her stroking felt good, really fucking good, but I want to guide this one. So I draw her hands up over her head and gently lean forward until she’s pinned beneath me, hands above her head, body stretched out long and lithe and waiting for me to do whatever I want to her.
And I want to do so damn much.
I switch hands, so I’m holding both of hers in one of mine—her wrists are so small that even with both her hands clasped in mine, she’s easy to pin in place. I grin down at her, and she smiles right back, white-hot lust in her eyes. I love the look she gets when she’s like this—just as hungry for me as I am for her.
“Do you belong to me, Mrs. Quint?” At this, I stroke my finger up to her clit and circle it lightly with my thumb, pressing just hard enough to elicit a gasp of satisfaction from her.
“I do.” Her eyes catch mine, full of spark, full of mischief. “Do you belong to me, Mr. Quint?” she asks, and she arches her back, then, writhes beneath me as I continue to circle her clit, bringing her closer and closer to her climax. At the same time, she lifts her hips off the bed, makes sure that those long, smooth thighs of hers graze along my bare cock, teasing, taunting.
I groan in the back of my throat, a guttural sound, hidden behind clenched teeth. “Oh, I do, Mrs. Quint. I really do.” I lean down then to kiss her neck, taste the sweat that pools against her clavicle, as I stroke my thumb faster, and slide my middle finger inside her soaking wet pussy at the same time. I stroke her from the inside and out, pinching her, just hard enough to drive her wild. Only when I’m good and ready do I lean back and smile down at her, prepared for the show.
“You can come for me now, Mrs. Quint,” I whisper, and she doesn’t waste any time.
Her voice rises in gasps as she lifts her hips, twists and moans beneath me. She calls out my name when her climax hits, but I keep my finger inside her, add a second one, continue to stroke her until she’s right there at the edge again, gasping “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”
I lean down to catch her mouth in mine for her second orgasm, and she moans into my mouth as I kiss her, hard and long and deep, tasting her desire, savoring the feel of her body shivering with pleasure underneath mine.
Finally, when she’s soaked and breathing hard, I reach past her with my free hand to grab a condom, tearing it from the foil and rolling it down my cock in a single, practiced motion.
“Fuck me, Mr. Quint,” she gasps, spreading her knees wide. “Fuck me now.” I lie between them, and she wraps her legs around my waist, granting me easy access to her.
I press the tip of my cock against the entrance of her pussy and smile down at her, gaze hooded. “Ask me nicely, Mrs. Quint.” I circle the tip of my cock around her, sliding back and forth along her slit, coating myself in her juices, driving her wild.
She twists beneath me, impatient, and I’m loving it. Loving that I drive her as crazy as she drives me. “Please,” she finally breathes, voice low and breathy. “Please fuck me.”
I smile a little. Press my tip into her, just half an inch, just enough to make her cry out again, louder.
“Please fuck me, Mr. Quint.”
This time I really drive myself home, pressing into her fully in one thrust, and her head falls back, her neck arching as she groans.
I fucking love her pussy. The way she tightens around me like a glove, squeezing me so hard. And yet when I draw back, I glide easily within her, because she’s so fucking wet for me. “Your pussy is fucking perfect, do you know that, Mrs. Quint?” I slide out to the very edge of her, and then thrust forward again, until the spongy tip of my cock hits home within her, filling her completely, stuffing her full of my thick cock. Not all women have been able to handle me—sometimes I have to tread carefully, lightly. But not Dee.
She drives me as well as she drives my cars.
“I love watching you writhe on my big cock.” I pull back, thrust again, and she drives her hips up to meet mine, pushing me more fully home. “I love feeling how full I make you.”
“So fucking full.” Her eyelids flutter, almost close, as I start to rock faster, build up a rhythm. “Fuck, Jasper, don’t stop, fill me up, fucking fill me up.”
I pull her legs up, push them up over my shoulders so she’s spread beneath me on the bed, and grasp her hips in both hands, powering home into her with each drive. I tilt my hips to drag my cock along the front wall of her pussy, my tip pressing into her with each thrust. She’s already sensitive from me stroking her to orgasm twice, and it doesn’t take long before another starts to build in her.
She cries aloud when it hits, and I cannot get enough of this sight.
That’s the woman I’m going to marry, a hazy, sex-dazed part of my brain thinks as I gaze down at her, prone before me, breasts shaking each time I thrust inside her, my balls slapping against her ass. She’s mine.
Of course it’s all for show. All play-acting. Just a game that makes it hotter than hell when we fuck. But a little part of my brain starts to think, would it be so bad if this weren’t for show after all?
Because as much as I love watching her eyes flutter half-closed and her lips part and her face flush with heat and lust as she comes for me, comes on my big thick cock, her pussy clenching around me like a hand fisting my cock, as much as I love the sex… I also fucking love that diamond flashing on her finger, and the way she was looking at me from beneath those lowered eyelashes of hers.
Husband and wife. It has a fucking hot ring to it, doesn’t it?
I’ve never felt that way before. Not about a woman I’ve fucked, not about any woman I’ve dated. But with her, I can start to really, truly picture it for the first time.
I finish inside her with a growl, and we both collapse to the bed, sweaty, the sheets tangled around us, slick from sex and desire and wanting. I pull her to me for another long, deep kiss, and all I want to do is stay in this bed all day. Keep fucking her, keep driving her wild. I never want to get back in the car that’s waiting for us downstairs. I never want to go home. Not without her.
I am so fucking screwed.