I kiss him hard. He groans, grabbing my waist and in one fluid motion, switching our positions. I pull him toward me so we’re face-to-face. My legs straddle his. His hands circle my waist as I start to move, slowly at first until I’m riding his dick so hard my tits are bouncing, and the bed is shaking.
“Yes,” I cry out. We’re both panting and moaning so much, I’m surprised none of the neighbors haven’t pounded on the walls.
“I need you to come, Pres. I’m not going to last much longer with you riding my dick like that.”
“Touch me.”
He doesn’t need any further instructions. He just slips a hand between us and starts working my clit. The extra stimulation is exactly what I need. I come so hard, I see stars. While I’m still riding out the aftershocks of my orgasm, Hollis flips us, and I find myself on my back, being fucked just like he promised.
He pushes my knees up to my chest and pounds into me. I think I scream “Oh god!” at least a dozen times. It’s that fucking good. I don’t know how, but it prolongs my orgasm.
That familiar feeling deep in my belly starts to flutter.
“Oh my god,” I cry out. “I think I’m gonna come again.”
He just grins.
This time, he comes with me. I watch in fascination as his whole body tenses, and he lets out a low guttural groan. When he calls out my name at the end, it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
HOLLIS
“More,” she demands, and I swear that one word goes straight to my dick.
Unfortunately, that is not what my wife is referring to.
“Are you sure?” I swing around to face her. She’s got her plate held out, with several neatly stacked pancakes covered in maple syrup. But she doesn’t seem to care about any of that. All she wants is?—
“Give me the bacon, Beck.”
I grin, holding up both hands. “Okay, okay. I’m just looking out for you. You’re thirty now. You’ve gotta watch out for cholesterol and shit.”
“You’re thirty-two. Are you sure you should even be having any at all?” She flutters her lashes, and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips.
God, she’s fucking cute.
After we thoroughly consummated our marriage this morning, we had an encore performance in the shower and then on the couch.
Just for good measure.
Got to make sure it sticks.
Now, it’s late afternoon, and the two of us are fucking starving. So I offered to make us a very late breakfast.
I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling all damn day.
“Are you trying to steal my bacon?”
She shrugs, her oversized sweatshirt slipping off her shoulder. “Just trying to save you the cholesterol. Plus, I worked up quite the appetite.”
I smirk. “Yeah, you did.”
She squeals with excitement when I add several more slices of bacon to her plate. This woman would eat breakfast for every meal if given the chance.
I top off her coffee, hand her the creamer, and then work on fixing my own plate. By the time I take the seat next to her at the kitchen island, she’s grown silent.
“What’s up, Pres?” I ask, sensing her quick change in mood.
