“Fuck, Daydream, I love you,” Bronte groans into my skin. “If you’re not pregnant now, you’re going to be by the endof the year. You’d better tell me those plans.”
“I just want to be happy.”
He licks a long path up my throat, right up to my ear, when he mutters, “I can do that. Give me something harder.”
Overachiever.
Gripping both sides of his face, I gently redirect his face so that he’s looking down at me. Those light greens filled with lust, hunger, and a softness that makes my heart melt into a warm little puddle.
“Don’t cheat on me.” His brows immediately clench before his expression turns murderous. “If you’re ever unhappy or need?—”
“You’ve never been inside your pussy, Daydream, so let me explain. I don’tneedseveral women in my life to fuck because my ego needs it. In fact, I need to be humbled from time to time. And I’m married. My father was married to my mother for forty-some years with kids and security. I want that. And I want that with you.”
I give him a weak grin and give him a curt nod. “Okay.”
“Don’t convict me of Bobby’s shit?—”
“I’m not?—”
“Youare,” he retorts, pulling back on his pace and fucking me nice and slow. “You are, Daydream. I might look like the motherfucker, but I amfarfrom that piece of shit?—”
“I know you are,” I quickly insert because I didn’t mean for him to spiral. It’s just still fresh in my existence, I guess. “You’re hard-headed. You’re fucking impossible and kind. You’re thoughtful and stupid hot. I’m proud…to be your wife, Bronte. If there’s ever a day you make me regret it, tuck your balls in. Because I’ll cut them off.”
He stares at me for a long time before he says, “Alright. Deal.”
Needing to break the tension between us, I arch my back and Bronte’s eyes snap shut off a groan. “Now, where were we?”
He doesn’t open his eyes at first, bucking his hips a little fasternow as I spread my thighs wider for more. “At the part where you’re trying to kill me with this pussy.”
My mouth cracks into a wider smile as pleasure blooms and spreads further out to every end of my body. “Your cock feels so good, Bronte.” His eyes fly open at my admission, and now, they’re darker. “End of the year, you said?”
One side of his face lifts, appearing a bit suspicious. “Don’t tease me.”
“I have to a little. It’s what you signed up for.”
“You give me a statement like that,” he warns, his tone dipping into this deliciously dark octave. “I’ll run with that shit.”
“What does that include exactly?”
“Bending you over every hard surface and taking advantage of you.”
Mhm, I like that.
Posing innocent eyes up at him, the simple act gets Bronte’s thrusts to quicken. Something in how much he can read into me, regardless of whether I’m teasing—which normally doesn’t last long— or not, makes this man start losing some of his control.
“Bronte…”
“Mhm?”
Inhaling, I know I’m jumping again, and I’m not ready.
Not mentally.
Not physically.
Not even within the confines of my daily life.
However, I can’t help it when he’s fucking me like he can’t stand not to. Like it’s something that gives him life. Something he’s waited patiently for and, now that he has me, needs to make up for time lost.
