Forbidden Bride

“Yes.”

“Are you okay, after yesterday?”

Nicola moans as my fingers drift towards her pussy. “I don’t care. Fuck me please.”

Yanking her body back against mine, my cock is perfectly settled between the cheeks of her ass, and she has nothing else but the sweatshirt—my sweatshirt—on. “I don’t have a condom,” I whisper against her neck. “I thought that we’d end up back at my place before any of this happened.”

“Do it,” she says, voice breathy. “I’m on the pill, and for obvious reasons, I’m clean.”

“Me too,” I tell her. “I haven’t been with anyone in…years.”

Since before I left. I tried, and it never felt right. I was too caught up in everything, and in the back of my mind I knew that she was waiting for me. And to sleep around felt like I was cheating, even if we weren’t together.

My hand and I have gotten very comfortable with each other over the last four years.

“Remember to keep quiet,” I tell her, bending her over the back of the couch. I have perfect view of her tits down my sweatshirt, and she’s so wet that when I find her entrance, I slide inside with ease. Nicola moans into the couch pillows.

Yesterday was slow, but today is fast. It’s what we both need, and I don’t hold back. Locking my hands on her hips, I pound into her, unleashing all the pent up lust and need that I’ve been holding back. The sound of our skin clashing together is loud, and combined with the muffled sounds of her voice, I’m almost ready to come again. Holy shit.

She’s so tight, I can’t take it. And now that there’s no barrier between us she feels even tighter. It’s like being encased in molten heat. I speed up, driving into her with blinding speed, driving us both towards the precipice of climax.

It comes so fast that it almost knocks me off my feet. A second roaring orgasm that spirals down my spine and out of my cock and into Nicola. Her stifled moans get louder, and her pussy crashes down onto me, lost in her own orgasm. A feeling of true satisfaction floods me. I’m inside Nicola. Not just my body, but my seed. We’re connected in a different way.

It feels primal and messy and carnal. A bond that’s deeper than we can consciously articulate. And along with that, a feeling of possession. Nicola is mine.

We’re both breathing hard, and I lean into her, wrapping my arms around her. Slowly, we catch our breath together, still connected. Her pussy is still spasming, and there’s no part of me that wants to leave her body.

That is, until I hear the door to the basement open. “Nicola?” It’s Valerie’s voice, and my blood goes cold as we both freeze. This is not the way I wanted them to find about this. But I can’t move, even though my cock is buried in her daughter.

To her never-ending credit, Nicola sounds perfectly normal when she speaks. “Yeah, Mom?”

“I made you some tea. Also, Dad and I are going to make breakfast, do you want any?”

“Umm…no thanks. I have plans, but I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Okay.”

Sweet \ relief floods me when I hear the door shut. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Nicola says. We fall apart from each other, both catching our breath for a moment. “I’m glad I already did my make-up. I can just throw some clothes on.”

“How do you want to play this?”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

I smirk. “Me. Being here.”

“Don’t worry,” she says, pulling up her panties and stepping out of her shorts. “I’ve got it.”

I’m sad to see her take off my sweatshirt, but I’m treated to a view of her perfect breasts in the process, so I’m okay with the tradeoff. In less than five minutes she has jeans and a shirt on and looks pretty damn normal after what just happened.

But she didn’t change her panties, and that brings a smile to my face.

“Ready,” she says.

I grab her and pull her against me. “Let’s go see your parents,” I say, and lean in so I can whisper in her ear. “While my cum is still dripping out of you.”

Pink stains her cheeks, but her eyes go dark. She likes it, and I’m again filled with that smug satisfaction that comes with pleasing a lover.

She leads me up the stairs, and as we step out of the door, I’m very careful not to touch her. I have an inkling about how she’s going to spin this, and it needs to be all business.

“Morning,” she says breezily as she walks into the kitchen—the same kitchen that we shared our moment in four years ago. I pause in the doorway, waiting for Bruce and Valerie to notice that I’m here. They’re both sitting at the breakfast table with coffee cups and newspapers. “Morning,” I say.