“Lo,” he warned, voice tight with restraint. “If you keep movin’, I’m gonna fuck you like I ain’t got no damn sense.”
“Then fuck me like that,” I said, breathless. “I can take it.”
He froze for half a second.
Just half.
Then he snapped his hips forward and drove every thick inch into me in one hard, claiming stroke. A sound came out of me I’d never made before—half moan, half cry, full surrender. There was no confusion about that.
“Goddamn,” he hissed behind me, gripping my waist with both hands. “This pussy… Lo… this pussy was made for me.”
He pulled out slowly, torturing me, letting every vein drag against my walls before slamming back in with a force that made the table shift.
My hands flew forward, bracing myself.
My breath caught hard.
My vision blurred.
“DaVinci, baby, wait.”
“Hell nah,” he bit out, fucking me faster now, hips heavy and controlled, every stroke hitting deep. “You said you wanted it. Take it.”
“I am—baby—I am, I swear—”
“Good, I knew you would,” he groaned, leaning in, pressing his weight into me as he fucked me deeper. “Because I'm not stoppin’.”
His hand moved to my neck, and my legs shook so bad I could barely hold myself up.
He felt it.
He loved it.
“You close?” he asked, voice strained, fingers digging into my hips.
“Yes—fuck—yes.”
He slid one hand from my waist to the front of my body and pressed his thumb against my clit, slow circles that matched his thrusts.
“Cream on me then,” he whispered in my ear. “Let it out, Angel. Let me feel you.”
I broke. My whole body bowed, shaking so hard I went silent before the moan punched out of me, loud and raw. He held me through it, fucked me through it, groaning at how tight I got, how wet I was.
“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my wife right there.”
I collapsed forward on the table, breath snagging, my thoughts a full mess. He didn’t stop or slow down.
He dragged his hand down my back, gripping my ass with both hands, and pulled me back onto him with a force that made me gasp.
“I gotta see that face,” he said, voice thick. He grabbed my waist. “Turn around for me.”
I tried, legs wobbling so bad I almost fell, but he caught me under my thighs and lifted me onto the edge of the table like I weighed nothing.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
And when I lifted my eyes to his—dark, hungry, locked on me like I was the only thing that had ever existed—he slid back into me, making it very clear that our union was forever. The strokes were lethal and he enjoyed my sex faces as much as I enjoyed his.
“Yeah,” he murmured, kissing my jaw, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. “I need to see you.”
