He didn’t let me fall. One strong arm banded around my ass, holding me up while he devoured me. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth mixed with my broken moans and the distant desert wind. I looked down and the sight of him—my husband, on his knees, eyes locked on mine while he fucked me with his tongue and fingers—sent me spiraling.
I came hard, thighs shaking, a sharp cry ripping from my throat as my pussy clenched around his fingers. He didn’t stop. He kept licking me through it, drawing it out until I was whimpering and trying to push his head away.
He rose, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and spun me around so fast my palms slapped the railing. The cool wood pressed against my breasts. He kicked my legs wider.
“Gonna fuck my wife now,” he growled against my ear, shoving his sweatpants down. His cock—thick, heavy, veined—slapped against my ass. “Gonna fill this tight little pussy until you’re dripping me for days.”
I pushed back against him, needy and shameless. “Then do it, already.”
He lined up and thrust in with one brutal stroke.
I screamed.
He was so thick, stretching me open, the blunt head dragging right over my G-spot on the very first pass. He didn’t give me time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed in again, setting a punishing rhythm that had my toes curling against the deck.
“Fuck, Sienna— so goddamn tight. Still so wet for me even after you came all over my face.”
His hand fisted in my hair, tugging my head back so he could bite the side of my neck. The other hand slid around to rub tight, perfect circles over my clit. Every thrust dragged the thick head of his cock across that spongy spot inside me until I was seeing stars.
I came again, harder this time, walls fluttering and squeezing around him like I was trying to keep him forever.
He groaned, deep and filthy. “That’s it, baby. Milk my cock. Take every inch like the good little wife you are.”
He fucked me through it, never slowing, hips slapping against my ass, balls hitting my clit with every thrust. The wet sounds were obscene. I was dripping down my thighs.
He pulled out suddenly, spun me around, and lifted me. My back hit the rough post as he hooked my legs over his arms and sank back inside me in one smooth glide.
Face to face now. Eyes locked.
His cock felt even bigger at this angle, dragging over my G-spot on every deep, grinding thrust. I could feel the fat head kissing my cervix, the heavy weight of his balls slapping against me.
“Come on my cock again,” he demanded, voice wrecked. “Want to feel you fall apart while I’m buried to the balls in my wife.”
I did. The orgasm slammed into me so hard my vision whited out. I screamed his name, nails raking down his back, pussy clamping down on him like a vice.
Mason snarled, hips stuttering. “Fuck— Sienna— gonna fill you up.”
He thrust deep one last time and came with a guttural groan. I felt the first hot, heavy pulse of his seed flooding me, thick ropes coating my walls, spilling so deep I could feel it leaking out around his cock as he kept grinding through his orgasm. He kept coming, pulse after pulse, until it was dripping down my thighs in warm, sticky trails.
He stayed inside me, forehead pressed to mine, breathing hard.
We stayed like that for a long minute, the desert night cool on our overheated skin, his cock still twitching inside me, his cum slowly leaking out.
I kissed him softly this time. Lazy. Sated. “I don’t even know what your favorite food is,” I whispered against his mouth. “Or your favorite color. I don’t know your middle name or whether you like pineapple on pizza or what you wanted to be when you were ten. But I know you’re mine. And you’re my soulmate, Mason Cross. We skipped every small step. We went straight to the big one. And somehow… it fits. It works. It’s us.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes soft in a way I’d only seen a handful of times. “Favorite food’s a ribeye, medium-rare. Color’s the exact shade of green your eyes turn when you’re pissed at me. And yeah, baby. It’s us.”
He carried me inside, still buried deep, and laid me on our bed. We didn’t sleep for another hour. He took me again—slow this time, face to face, my legs wrapped around his waist whilehe rocked into me and whispered every filthy, sweet thing he’d been holding back for weeks.
When we finally collapsed, sticky and spent and wrapped around each other, I fell asleep with his cum still leaking out of me and his ring heavy on my finger.
The next morning I woke to the sound of something scratching at the sliding glass door.
I sat up, sheet pooled around my waist, and blinked.
Bandit.
The gray traitor was sitting on the deck, bell jingling, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the entire universe. He meowed once—loud, demanding, exactly the same sound he used to make when he wanted breakfast and world domination.
