Marx Girl

“I love you.” He smiles down at me. “This has been the happiest day of my life.”

My tears burst the dam and I wipe them away, embarrassed. “Your sappy is making me sappy.” I smile.

He laughs and spins me around.

“I suppose I can give you my sappy on our wedding day.”

“What about our next wedding? Will I get sappy at my next wedding?” I ask.

He laughs and kisses me softly. “Yeah, I can be sappy on that day, too.”

He spins me again and I laugh out loud.

“What about when we have kids?” I smile up at him like a lovesick schoolgirl.

He shakes his head. “No, two days of sappy is all I can manage.”

He spins me out and we come back together.

Our faces are just inches apart. “Ben, I know your secret.”

“What’s that?” he whispers as his lips touch mine.

“You’re sappy all the time. You just don’t show it,” I tell him.

“Pftt.” He spins me fast and I laugh again. “I am not. You’re delusional.”

We come back together and I put my arms around his neck to hold him close. “You kept a chocolate that I gave you for six years,” I whisper up at him.

We stand so close, tight in each other’s arms. His eyes hold mine. “In my defence, the girl who gave that chocolate to me was very special.” He murmurs as our foreheads touch, and we sway slowly to the beautiful song.

“That girl is now your wife.”

He subtly shakes his head in disbelief.

“Mrs. Statham.” His hand slides down to my behind and his eyes darken.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” I smile as I kiss him softly.

And on the perfect night, with the perfect man, I dance to the perfect song.

I lie in the darkness and Ben’s breath quivers as he tries to control his arousal. After dancing all night, we have finally come back to our room.

Ben’s worshipping every single inch of my body with his tongue, his lips, and his hands. I’m spread out on the bed, about to lose my mind. My hand runs over the top of his head between my open legs.

My back arches off the bed as my arousal peaks. “Ben…” I whimper. I’ve orgasmed three times, and God, here comes another one.

“Ben,” I moan. “I want you.”

His tongue dives deep, lapping, sucking and kissing. I close my eyes in pleasure, and my mouth hangs open as I lose control.

“Ben,” I demand. “Don’t make me beg. Now. I want you now.”

He rises above me and kisses me softly. I taste my own salty arousal on his lips and our kiss turns desperate.

Ben’s here to make love.

I can count on one hand the times we have made love. We usually fuck. Hard.

But this is my favourite kind of sex with him. When he lets his guard down and gives himself over to me completely. It’s like his surrender, and I don’t get it often, but when I do it’s so worth the wait.

His large body rocks onto mine as he holds himself up on his elbows. My hands roam over his back and shoulders, down to that tight ass.

His large cock is rubbing over me and, oh God, I want it.

I need him.

I put my hand down and guide him to my entrance. I can’t wait a moment longer. He slides in and we both moan in pleasure. Deep, slow pumps and our bodies become one. We are completely in sync as we move together.

I was born for this, to do this with him. To love him the way I do.

Nothing else matters when I’m in his arms and his body is inside mine.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispers.

I hold onto him that bit tighter. “I won’t, baby,” I whisper as our lips crash together again.

He goes up onto his elbows and his eyes search mine. “Tell me that you won’t die.”

My heart constricts. Is that why he holds himself back from people, because he thinks they’re going to die?

My eyes tear up from all the pain he’s suffered, alone.

“I’m here, baby.” I cling to him as his body slides in deep again, tenderly taking mine. “I’m never going anywhere, Ben. I promise.”

I stretch sleepily as the sun peeks through the side of the drapes, and my eyes flick to Ben who is lying on his side, watching me. “What time is it?” I ask.

He smiles sexily. “Who cares?”

I roll onto my side to face him and I cup his face in my hand. “You’re looking very relaxed this morning, Mr. Statham.”

He licks his lips cheekily.

I smile broadly. “Would you have ever asked me to marry you?”

He cups my naked breast in his hand. “I would have wanted to.”

I narrow my eyes. “But you wouldn’t have asked?”

“I…” He takes a moment. “I never saw myself as the marrying type.” He frowns, as if he’s having an epiphany.