She doesn't hesitate, dropping to her knees in front of me so we're face to face. "Yes," she whispers, cupping my face in her hands. "A thousand times yes."
I slide the ring onto her finger, above the simple gold band from Vegas. The two together look right—the impulsive beginning and the considered continuation of our unlikely union.
When I kiss her, it's with a tenderness I never knew I possessed before her. Her lips part beneath mine, soft and yielding, and I gather her against my chest, overwhelmed by the miracle of her presence in my life.
"I love you," I murmur against her mouth, words that once would have seemed impossible coming from me.
"Show me," she challenges softly, eyes darkening with desire.
I lift her into my arms, dinner forgotten as I carry her to our bedroom. Tonight isn't about quick, urgent claiming. It's about worship, about proving with my body what my words can never fully express.
I lay her on the bed with uncharacteristic gentleness, taking my time undressing her. Each inch of skin revealed gets my touch, my kiss, my silent adoration. When she's finally naked before me, I step back to just look at her—this miracle I somehow convinced to be mine.
"So beautiful," I murmur, shedding my own clothes with less ceremony. "My wife. My everything."
When I join her on the bed, I move slowly, covering her body with mine, careful to keep most of my weight on my forearms. The contrast between us has always fascinated me—her softnessagainst my hardness, her light against my dark, her innocence against my corruption. Yet somehow, impossibly, we fit.
"I need you," she whispers, hands sliding up my arms to my shoulders, pulling me closer.
"You have me," I promise, positioning myself at her entrance. "Always."
I push inside with aching slowness, savoring every sensation—the tight heat of her body gripping me, the small gasp she makes as I fill her completely, the perfect joining that still feels like coming home every time.
"Perfect," I praise, beginning to move with deep, measured strokes. “You’re so motherfucking perfect, baby doll. Brings me to my knees every time.”
Her legs wrap around my waist, taking me deeper, her eyes never leaving mine. This connection between us—it's more than physical, more than the pleasure building with each thrust. It's a claiming of souls as much as bodies.
"I love you," she gasps, back arching as I hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars. "God, Vance, I love you so much."
Those words—words I never thought would be directed at me with such sincerity—push me closer to the edge. I reach between us, circling her clit with my thumb, determined to take her with me.
"Come for me, baby doll," I encourage, feeling her body tightening around me. "Let me feel you."
She shatters beautifully, inner walls pulsing around my cock as she cries out my name. I follow her over the edge, emptying myself deep inside her with a groan of completion.
We lie tangled together afterward, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing patterns on her back. But the night is young, and the beast in me is only temporarily sated.
"You know what I thought the first time I saw you?" I ask, voice already roughening with renewed desire.
"What?" She props her chin on my chest, looking up at me with those innocent eyes that drive me wild.
"That you were made to be bred." The crude words make her breath catch, pupils dilating. "Made to carry my child. To be marked as mine inside and out."
A shiver runs through her, but it's not fear or disgust. It's anticipation.
"Is that what you want, Daddy?" she asks, the forbidden word falling easily from her lips now. "To breed your little girl?"
Something snaps in me at her words—the tenderness of before giving way to a more primal need. In one swift movement, I flip her onto her stomach, pulling her hips up while pressing her upper body down into the mattress.
"That's exactly what Daddy wants," I growl, positioning myself behind her. "To fill this sweet pussy until you're swollen with my seed."
I push back inside her still-sensitive channel, the new angle drawing a gasp from both of us. This position is deeper, more animalistic, letting me claim her in the most primitive way.
"Mine," I grunt, setting a harder pace than before, hands gripping her hips tightly enough to leave marks. "Every. Fucking. Inch."
Each word is punctuated with a thrust that makes her moan into the pillow, her body accepting me completely despite the rougher treatment.
"Yes," she gasps, pushing back against me. "Yours, Daddy. All yours."
