Her hair had tumbled over her face. I was still holding the back of it in my fist. My hips were doing their own thing, pummeling my dick in and out… and the orgasm snuck right the fuck up on me.
“Oh, fuck…” I groaned as my balls seized.
“Yeah, Dane,” she moaned. “Give it to me.”
Oh, I gave. In a long, heart-stopping eruption. I held her gaze in the mirror. She held mine. She probably would’ve kept talking dirty to me through the whole thing, but her mouth was hanging open in awe.
“Babe,” I gasped out, and collapsed forward, my hands finding the counter as my hips pressed into her again and again. Aftershocks.
My head swam. The world sparkled at the corners of my eyes. Her dress sparkled.
Panting, I drifted my hand up her back and into her hair, gently this time, and found my voice. “You sure you don’t want to come…?”
Devi gave me a slow, sex-drunk grin in the mirror. “I’m sure. I’m okay with being aroused all night. As long as you let me ride in your lap in the car on the way home. If you know what I mean…”
Yeah. I knew. And my dick was already looking forward to it.
I pulled out, breathless. “I think you’ve got some icing to clean up.”
Devi pushed her dress down over her hips and turned to me. She swiped her tongue over her top lip, slowly.
Holy Jesus, my woman was sexy.
“Save some of that for me for later,” she purred, her eyes drifting down to my dick, which I was trying to fit back into my pants.
“Oh, I will…” I muttered.
She smoothed her hair, in no rush, then drifted over and placed a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. Then I watched her wander to one of the stalls to clean up.
“And by the way…” I said to her ass as she stepped inside. “I fucking love you.”
“Oh, I know,” she said back. And when I glanced into the mirror to check how messed up I looked, I was smiling.
“Am I still the devil?” I asked her, curious, as I straightened my tie.
“Yes, Dane,” she said, her voice floating out to me. “Angels don’t fuck like that.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Devi
“After you, Mrs. Davenport.”
Dane swept the front door of our new home open for me, and even though I’d already been here a few times, I gasped with delight. The house was that incredible.
But before I could take a step, he lifted me off my feet. I squealed as he heaved me right over his shoulder, like a neanderthal.
Then he carried me into the house.
“What are you doing??”
“Carrying you over the threshold.”
I kicked a little and scream-laughed, because what else was I supposed to do when my husband tossed me over his shoulder? I might’ve tried to knee him in the nuts, just a little, if I could get there, but he grabbed both my ankles.
Then he put me down in the grand foyer.
I smacked his chest, but grinned, then shook my hair back out of my face. “I think you’re supposed to pick me up in your arms. You know, like precious cargo. Not heft me over your shoulder like a sack of sugar.”
