I reach in between us and rub against her clit as I thrust my hips forward. No fiancée of mine is going to get anything less than multiple orgasms in a night.
“Malaki.” My name on her lips is a mindfuck.
I want her to say it again and again.
Reese’s hair has slipped out of her bun, tumbling down her back. I grab a hold of the strands and give them a gentle tug so I can press my mouth to her neck.
My heart stops for a second as she tightens around my dick.
Fuck me.
I suck on her skin to keep myself focused so I don’t come before she does, but all it does is send her into a frenzy.
I pull back and stare at her in the mirror. She moves against my dick fast and hard with her mouth open and head tipped backward from the pleasure. Her pussy pulses around me from another orgasm, and I struggle to breathe.
Jesus.She’s the hottest thing I have ever seen.
A guttural noise leaves me, and I quickly shoot my cum into her, not giving a fuck that I’m more of apull-out-just-in-casetype of guy.
I can’t.
I can’t break away from her.
It’s too much.
I get the nerve to meet her eye, and my breath catches.
Her cheeks are as rosy as the flush working itself up my chest. I stare at her swollen, glossy lips and pray to God that this isn’t a one-time thing.
Don’t deprive me of a little slice of Heaven on Earth, please.
“You okay?” I ask, holding her tightly in my grip.
She places her hands on my shoulders before nodding. She looks exhausted…or sated. Maybe both.
Without letting go of her, I open the shower door and turn the water on. I wait until it’s warm enough to create steam and walk us under the stream. I pull out of her, and she winces as I place her feet on the ground.
“You’re sore,” I say.
She lifts one shoulder, a small smile playing against her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, spinning her around to rest against me. Water rains on us from above, and she tips her head back to wet her hair.
I run my fingers through the long strands, and she sighs. Neither of us speak while I help her wash her body. I’m careful not to linger too much on her breasts or in between her legs, because it’ll lead to places that will make her even more sore.
Eventually, I turn the water off and wrap her in a towel before wrapping one around myself. I stay in the bathroom and watch her get ready for bed.
I feel like a creep, watching her every move with fascination, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
We make eye contact on more than one occasion, and each time, a cute blush spreads over her cheeks.
I’m obsessed with it.
Almost as obsessed with watching her eyes flutter closed as soon as she climbs into the bed.
The last thing I think about before falling asleep myself is how on earth can I get this girl to be my real fiancée, instead of my fake one?
Thirty-Two
