“DaVinci…I’m cummin,” My voice cracked as my orgasm rolled through me, my body trembling so hard the candles flickered from the movement. I tried to catch myself against the table, breathing heavy and uneven, thighs shaking as he held me firmly in place.
He didn't pull out all the way when I started to come down. He stayed close, skin against skin, lips on my shoulder, still sliding inside me slow and deep—lazy strokes meant to keep me melting and pliant.
“Mhmm,” he hummed, dragging his hand down my back before gripping both ass cheeks in his palm. “You said you wanted it on your face.”
I felt my breath hitch, heat blooming low in my stomach all over again.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I still want that.”
He groaned—low, grateful, filthy—like he’d been holding onto that answer with both hands.
“Spread those legs for me.”
My body reacted before my mind caught up, my knees falling open wider as I lay back across the table, my breath coming quick and shallow. The ocean breeze skated across my damp skin, mixing with the heat rolling off him as he stepped in close.
He stood right in front of me, stroking himself slowly, staring between my legs like everything he wanted lived there. His gaze dragged up my body—thighs, stomach, breasts, face—devouring me in a way that felt like worship and hunger sharing the same breath.
“Yeah,” he murmured, voice rough, hand still working himself. “Just like that. Look at you.”
Watching him watch me made it impossible to breathe, impossible to think about anything except what he planned to do next. “Look at my pretty ass wife… laid out for me… waitin’ on her dick and her nut.”
I bit my lip and lifted my chin, giving him all of me. “Come on then. Give it to me.”
“Say that shit again,” he growled.
“Give. It. To. Me.”
He gritted his teeth and stroked faster, stepping closer until he was right at my face, one hand braced on the table beside my head, the other pumping slow and deliberate.
“You want this on your pretty face, Angel?”
“Yes, baby, please.”
“You want your husband to nut all over you?”
“Yes…”
“You gone look at me when I do it?”
“I always do.”
That broke whatever control he had left.
“Fuck—Lo—baby, shit.”
His hips jerked, the muscles in his face tightening as the first warm stripe hit my cheek, then across my lips, then my chin. He groaned deep—oneof those sounds that came from his soul—head thrown back before he looked down at me again, eyes heavy and hooded.
I held his stare the whole time, licking a little off my bottom lip just to ruin him.
His breath stuttered.
“Goddamn, Lo,” he muttered.
“Mhhm,” I hummed. His whole body shuddered. I swallowed, wiped my mouth, and grinned up at him. “Welcome to married life,” I said.
He laughed, breathless and dazed, and reached for a napkin to clean my face with surprising tenderness. “You something else, Mrs. Bryns.”
“And you love it.”
