“Technically, since I’m the officiant, I can just say I performed our ceremony, and tomorrow when we go to the city clerk’s I can sign off on everything.”
“Hmm,” she hums, sounding disappointed.
“Unless you’d prefer that we go about it a different way.”
“Weddings don’t matter to me. I don’t have a preference, just the piece of paper is fine.”
“Okay.” I can’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment ripple through me, despite this being purely transactional.
She saunters closer, hips swaying with each step until she has me cornered. With little force, she pushes me down onto the couch to straddle.
“That’s all it is, a piece of paper,” she murmurs, against my neck. Her breath coating my skin like an elixir. “A business contract. A means of control. I’d much rather focus on consummating.”
Everything she’s saying is throwing me for a loop, especially as she works my belt buckle. I study her as she undoes it with ease. It sounds like she’s speaking from experience, and I can’t move past it. Not even as my dick is freed from my boxers, and she is now on her knees shimmying my pants down.
“It doesn’t have to be like that,” I whimper as her warm mouth takes me with ease to the back of her throat.
Maintaining perfect eye contact, she hums around me, gliding her mouth up and down my shaft as her hands keep tempo squeezing and kneading the vein protruding through it.
It’s not until I feel my orgasm nearing that she releases me from her mouth.
“Of course, it does,” she coos, rising to her feet, turning to face the window.
I almost forgot what I even said before until she lifts her dress upward, showing me her very blue, very wet thong.
She rises to her feet. “You don’t have to pretend that’s not how marriage works to impress me enough to get laid.”
“Have you been married before?” I ask. Not sure why I do. But it’s the way she seems so jaded that has me curious to know.
Back turned to me, she arches it as she takes off her panties, tossing them over her shoulder.
“Almost,” she breathes, lowering her wet pussy onto my lap.
A dozen question circle my head as jealousy intermingles with my curiosity.
“Then you don’t know.”
Hips rolling in a circle, she shoots me a quick glance from over her shoulder. “I know enough.”
My hands adhere to the swell of her hips, pulling her close to me. “Let me prove you wrong.”
There’s a shift in her demeanor. Apprehension. Disbelief, perhaps. A silent challenge accepted. It’s difficult to tell when her wet pussy is gliding back and forth over my more than ready dick. “I want to consummate. I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“I have condoms in my room.”
She shakes her head, leaning back onto my chest. “I’m on the pill, and my recent test came back clear.”
“Same.”
We say nothing else. The only sounds that come from either of us are a slew of sighs and panted breaths as she faces the window overlooking the Met, bouncing on me reverse cowgirl.
She’s close, I can feel it, her walls are tightening by the second, and I take it as my opportunity to maneuver her around to face me while staying deep inside of her.
She squeals from the shift in position.
I bring both hands to her face, cupping it in my palms as our lips skim one another’s.
“Come for me,” I whisper.
