She straddled him, smoothing her hands over the expensive shirt she was about to rip off his body. “Take this off.”
“Patience.”
“Want to fuck my husband.”
He took it off. Buttons pinged in a few different directions. A problem for tomorrow.
She trailed kisses across his jaw and down his neck. Over his shoulder and—
He caught her jaw and dragged her face back to his mouth.
Kissed her hard. “Then fuck me,” he growled, unzipping beneath her.
He was as hard as she was wet, and it felt like she was cleaving herself in two as she sank onto his shaft.
She tossed her head back, and he latched his mouth onto her neck. Kissed and sucked her there, then lower.
God, she loved it when he sucked on her tits. Fucking loved it. Fucking craved it.
Okay, she was drunk.
But it was fine, this was wonderful, he was her husband, and he was inside her. He was so big and hard, and—
He pinched her nipple.
She squeaked and dragged her face back from the ceiling to look at him. “You pinched me.”
He grinned. “You were just moaning and staring at the ceiling. Which is hot. Totally hot. But do you want to come so we can go to bed, my darling, tipsy wife?”
“Drunk wife,” she whispered.
“Mm, yeah you are.” He re-arranged her limbs around him and took over, slowly fucking into her from below. Stoking a fire, making it burn bright and hot and dangerous inside her.
“Are you coming to come inside me?” Her pussy clenched at the thought.
His grip on her tightened. “Yes.”
“I want your babies, Josh Kincaid.”
“You’ll have them.” He groaned and thrust harder, deeper. “God damn it, say that again.”
She clung to him. “Make me pregnant.”
“Fuck, Monica!” He growled and flipped her over. Dragged her to the edge of the bed and hitched her hips up, thrusting into her again. “Look at you take your husband’s cock. So fucking hot.”
She gazed up at him, a big, thick beast of a man, inflamed by the promise of claiming his wife. And all she could think was,he’s so beautiful. He’s mine.
Josh found her gaze and held it as he pumped into her. Slower now. More deliberate. “My wife,” he rasped. “My bride.”
“Yes.”
He spread her legs wide and nestled a heavy hand low over her belly, his thumb curving over her mound to her clit.
“My. Wife.”
“Yours.”
“Forever.” Her breath hitched.
