Fitz grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her dildo out of her. He took it from her and threw it to the side of the bed. Then he was back over her, surrounding her, caging her in again.
He hung above her, nose brushing hers, lips almost,almoston hers.
The tip of his cock pressed deliciously against her entrance.
“My turn, Gigi.”
25
Fitz
ItwasFitz’sturn.His cock was pressed against his wife, and he was finally going to sink into the gloriousness that was Gigi.
Gazes locked, he sank inside, inch by blissful inch. Her breath hitched with each one, her mouth parting further. And then hips met hips, and he was fully seated inside her. And he thought he might die. Because nothing would ever compare to this feeling of being completely enveloped by his wife.
His eyes widened. Shite. She was a virgin. “Gigi, are you well? I should have taken more care.”
She snorted.She snorted.
He frowned at her.
A soft giggle burst from her, which had her intimate muscles doing delicious things to his cock. His body went taut.
“Fitz,” she said, eyes dancing. “I just fucked myself with a dildo. Something I do relatively often, I might add. And he’s bigger than you. You have no need to fear the typical…complaints that come with virgins with me.”
Fitz’s frown deepened. He slowly pulled nearly all the way out, just the tip of his cock inside her. His gaze flicked to hers before it latched back on where they were joined. A low growl fled him. “Your implement isn’tthatmuch bigger.”
Her face split in a saucy grin. “Apparently, it’s all in how you use it, anyway. Unless you’re not up to the task—”
He drove into her.
The breath fled her on anoomph.
Not up to the task? His little wife had just thrown a gauntlet. And Fitz loved nothing more than a challenge. This was one he was determined to win.
Bracing himself on one elbow, he reached for her hip and slid his hand underneath to cup her arse. Fucking hell, the arse on this woman. His fingertips dug into the plush flesh, flexing. Absolutely magnificent.
He tilted her, tugged her toward him, and sank even further. They groaned. He moved slowly, not capable of anything more without completely embarrassing himself. He simply savored her in a smooth, relentless rhythm, rocking against her with each thrust, purposely pressing against where he knew her pleasure centered. He tortured them both, gradually dragging himself in and out of the heat of her, reveling in the breathy cries that escaped her, delving deeper with each drive.
Fitz chased after those sighs and met with soft, sweet lips, cinnamon and spice consuming his senses. His heart rate kicked up. There was that delicious scent he seemed to always find on her. He licked into her mouth and groaned. Not just scent. Taste.
“Why do you taste so delicious?” The words rumbled from him, and he nipped at her lips, punishing them for being so bloody tempting. Everything about this woman was too much, too perfect. “You taste like fucking Christmas.” He punctuated his statement with a hard thrust, and she gasped.
Then her delectable lips curved against his and she nudged his nose with hers. “Your cook makes the most e-exceptional spiced biscuits,” she said, breath hitching as he sank to the hilt in another thrust. “I’ve p-practically eaten my weight in them s-since I arrived.”
Ah, that would do it. He went in for another taste, and she moaned deep in her throat. Bloody hell, he loved the taste of her. From this moment on, his wife would have an endless supply of spiced biscuits at her disposal. He would make sure of it.
He ground against her harder. Her cries grew louder. His heart and cock pulsed in tandem. His grasp tightened on her hip, pleasure streaking up his spine. Searing. Scorching. Staggering. She was climbing to that peak again. He would take her there. And he would hold her as they fell off together. God, this couldn’t be happening.
“This can’t be real, Gigi,” he whispered. “You cannot possibly be real.”
Her hands gripped his face, her gaze locked on his—unyielding. A grip, a gaze, that promised of never letting go. “I am real, Fitz. This is real. We are real.”
Fuck.
He buried his head into the crook of her neck and drove into her, over and over, harder and harder. Needing to fulfill the wild, breathy cries fleeing her lips. The ones ofmore,ofharder, ofplease.
His hand clutched her arse, lifting her into him. There was too much churning inside him, disordered and dangerous and damn near earth-shattering. The headboard rammed against the wall with the force of his thrusts, and it sounded disarmingly like they were on the verge of damaging the house.
