Page 131 of Coveted By Cupid

No, he didn’t ask if I would marry him. Why would he? I’m already his ole lady and tied myself to him in every way a couple can. He just kissed my hand after slipping the ring on and told the room to be at the courthouse on Friday to witness us exchange vows. I thought the walls would crumble with how loud the crew cheered to our upcoming nuptials.

By tomorrow afternoon, I will be Missus Vanessa Amor, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

I let out a deep, contented sigh, smiling to myself.

Cupid looks up from his book, placing it aside to dote on me. “What is it, Butterfly? Are you feeling nauseous again? Do you want me to bring you some saltines and fizzy soda?”

I turn onto my side to face him, my heart doing a little happy dance in my chest. “I’m fine, hubby.”

Cupid’s hand stills in my hair, a smirk tugging at his full lips. “Oh, I like that pet name, Butterfly. After we marry tomorrow, I expect you to be screaming it when I’m under your dress.”

My shoulders shake with silent laughter. “I see someone has been fantasizing about our wedding.”

“I’ve been fantasizing about it since the moment you drove by me on your Harley and winked,” he admits unabashed, giving me the most swoon-worthy, panty-dropping smile.

Feeling sassy, I run my fingers along the outline of his cock in his jeans. “Who says it needs to be a fantasy?”

Cupid tenses. “Butterfly, don’t tease me. I don’t want to do anything if you’re not feeling up to it.”

The last six weeks, I was miserable, dealing with morning sickness at all times of the day. We went from having sex nearly every day to once a week, due to me getting sick.

However, in the last few days the queasiness has mellowed and my libido has returned with full force. I want my man—now.

To show him I’m being serious, I reach for his belt buckle, slowly undoing it. “I’ve been feeling better lately, good enough to take my man inside of me.”

Not wasting a second, Cupid sits me upright, slipping out from under me. He swiftly stands, stripping out of his jeans and boxer briefs before I can blink, standing in front of me like a gorgeous Roman god. With steady hands, he takes the bottom hem of my maxi dress and slowly peels it over my head, leaving me in only my panties. His eyes hood with dark desire as he slips his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and tugs them down my legs.

He lifts the undergarment to his nose, inhaling. “Mmm. I can smell your arousal. You’re making my dick ache.”

No doubt. His enormous cock is fully erect, standing tall and proud in a way that defies gravity.

I expect him to take us to the bedroom, but he surprises me when he positions himself on top of me, holding himself up on his forearms to keep his crushing weight off my belly.

My fingers run over the contours of his chest and abs, loving the way his muscles flex under my touch. “We’re not going to the bedroom?”

“I’m not risking moving you in case it disturbs your stomach. It’s been weeks since you initiated sex. Those are too high stakes to gamble my chances away.”

My thighs drop open, letting him settle between my legs. His length nudges my opening.

He trails his fingers over my collarbone, down between the valley of my breasts, moving lower. I moan when his fingers slip between my wet folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked.” He groans, lifting his fingers to his mouth and sucking my juices off the tips.

“It’s been a while. My pussy is dripping for joy,” I tease with a giggle.

Cupid barks a laugh. “Same with my dick.”

My chuckles die off the moment he pushes into me, filling me in the way only he can. My eyes roll closed as I arch my back to take him deeper inside of me.

“Fuck, Butterfly,” he says, running his hands over me.

Not wanting to miss the show, I open my eyes to drink in my husband losing himself in me. The tendons in his neck strain against his skin with each deep thrust.

He bends, taking my lips with his in a soul-searing kiss. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you more,” I murmur on a moan. “You feel so good.”

His muscled thighs slap against the back of mine with each punch of his hips, steadily increasing. His Jacob’s ladder only emphasizes each ridge of his girth, adding additional pleasure to the ache growing inside of me.