Page 92 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

It almost kills me to feel her dilating to receive me.

I push a little more, now looking into her eyes, opening a passage through the delicate, warm flesh. “I need to go deeper inside you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t hold back much longer.”

“I’m not afraid. Make me yours.”

I kiss her mouth and slide my hand between our bodies, touching her stiff clit. With a thrust, I’m finally completely inside her.

I feel her tension and freeze, but she struggles to release her hands and pulls me to her. Her pussy tightens around me, her hips rising in innocent torture.

I lose the ability to restrain myself. My body sways against hers, deepening the thrust, my mouth sucking and licking every inch of skin I can reach.

I force myself to slow down, controlling the pace of the fucking, because I don’t want to come before her.

“Does it hurt?” I ask as I almost pull out completely and then thrust again.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to stop. I’m going to come.”

I say all the prayers I know, asking for strength. Hearing Adeela talk about her arousal is more than I can handle.

“You’re so hot. I want to stay inside you forever.”

And then, without warning, she explodes.

I make a mental note that my shy wife likes dirty talk.

The sensation of filling her numbs me, the pleasure spreading to every corner of my body.

But when I’m very close to my release, I remember her request not to have children.

Strangely, the memory that should reassure me goes down like acid in my stomach.

I don’t want to stop. I want to fill her with my seed and see her pubic hair and thighs leaking my cum, but I can’t betray her trust.

As if a kind of madness takes over because of the denial of what I desire, I speed up the movements, thrusting deep.

She screams, squeezes me, and I savor it until the last second.

Then I get up and masturbate, coming on her abdomen and breasts. The sight of her body covered in my semen brings me a pleasure that borders on the unbearable.

I lie on top of her and, holding her face, kiss her desperately.

“Mine,” I declare, defiantly.

“Mine,” she replies without hesitation, holding me tight.

She’s silent, lying on top of me, while I caress her back—from her shoulders to her sensual butt—trying to focus so that this is enough.

Hours of pleasure haven’t yet quenched my desire, but I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t understand anything about virgins, but I think that for the first night, having sex three times might already be excessive.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, trying to focus on something more neutral.

She raises her head to look at me. “Why did you give me so much in my mahr?”

“Didn’t you like it?”

“Yes, I love jewelry, but I would have married you just for a symbolic coin.”

Even inexperienced, Adeela seems to know how to say the right things to create a bridge that goes straight to my heart.