Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Draven
As soon as humanly possible, I’m going to bring my new wife on a proper honeymoon.
Florence. Honolulu. The Swiss Alps. Wherever she wants to go.
For now, however, while I’m still tied up in Tartine and we only have the night to celebrate our marriage, I settle for bringing her to a carnival.
Carrying her through the city, I noticed the lights on the far edge of the metropolis and continue walking in that direction, content to have her wrapped around me.
We reach the carnival as darkness falls and I buy us two tickets, bringing her inside.
Other men pass by me envying what I carry in my arms. Openly.
They physically sag under the weight of their lack.
It’s right there on their jealous faces how much they wish they had a glorious, loving little creature staring up at them with worshipful eyes, but they can’t. And they don’t. Because she’s one of a kind. All mine. Mine to love and spoil and cherish for the rest of my life.
Thing is, I’m looking at her the same way she’s looking at me.
In reverence.
Not for the first time, I wonder how I got so fortunate.
To call this girl my wife? To be given the honor of providing for her?
Christ, I can’t wait for the rest of this life. It’s a golden path that was nothing but gray before she walked into the kitchen at Tartine.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, rubbing a circle onto her back and staring down a man who looked a little too longingly at Claire’s bare thighs. Quickly, he averts his gaze. “You haven’t eaten since that apple tart this morning.”
“Mmm.” She wrinkles her nose at me. “I think I’m spoiled. Nothing else sounds good, except for your cooking.”
“Our cooking,” I correct her. “You’re the special ingredient.”
“That’s true,” she says, primly tossing her hair. My girl is feeling playful. “I think I’ll just do a cotton candy. I’ve never had one and they look so pretty.”
“You’ve never had cotton candy?”
She shakes her head.
With a hitch in my chest, I carry her in the direction of the concessions. “You’re going to get whatever you want from now on, Claire.”
“Dessert for dinner, even!”
“Damn right.”
She’s in such good spirits, I try to put her upbringing out of my head, but it’s impossible to ignore what she’s been through.
Who could lay hands on this sweetheart in anger?
Who could yell at her and deprive her of anything?
Couldn’t they see she was unique and loving and crafted by angels?
“Is there any chance your father and stepmother will come looking for you?”
“No,” she whispers, kissing my cheeks, in turn. “They’re too lazy. And they wouldn’t even know where to begin looking. Please don’t worry, Draven.”
“I will worry for my wife. That’s my job.”
“Not tonight.” She presses her smile against the side of my face until I return it. “Your only job right now is to have fun. We’re celebrating!”
I procure a giant pink cotton candy for Claire, carrying her through the sea of people while she tucks fingerfuls of spun sugar into her mouth, humming happily at the taste.
“Which ride do you want to go on first?”
“Mmm.” She scans the carnival with a pinched forehead, her bottom lip pouting out when she spots something. “Oh no, look, Draven. There is no one on the merry-go-round.”
I follow her line of sight and confirm that, indeed, there are no guests waiting in line. Situated at the darkest edge of the carnival, it’s currently not even running. A worker stands at the gate staring at his phone, since he has nothing else to do.
“We should go on it. I feel bad.”
Refusing to deny her anything, even if she’s simply feeling guilty about the neglect of an inanimate object, I bring her in that direction. “You have a good heart.”
“So do you.”
“My heart was dead until you walked in and revived it,” I say, squeezing her tight.
The carnival worker pushes off the gate when he sees us, stowing his phone and opening the entrance.
I climb onto the merry-go-round with Claire in my arms and settle her down on her feet, turning her around to face the menagerie of horses and zebras.
“Your choice,” I say, leaning down to kiss her shoulder.
“This horse looks the friendliest,” she says, bounding over to the most colorful one.
“Come here, I’ll give you a boost.”
I grip Claire’s hips and lift her onto the horse, the hem of her dress riding up as her ass lands in the saddle with a hot smack.
God. When she leans forward to reach for the reins and I can clearly see the outline of her thong through the dress, I have to adjust my cock.
And it only gets stiffer the longer I study her from behind, her lithe thighs straddling the horse.
Is this how she looks when she rides me?
My mind goes back to last night. Those long, sweaty hours I spent teaching her how to ride me in ways that I look forward to enjoying over the years.
Reverse. Facing frontward. Sitting up, lying down.
Legs locked tight. Legs in the air. Pretty ass bouncing.
The best part is she can come in any of those positions.
I have to wonder if her cunt is blessed in more ways than one.
With phenomenal flavor and extreme sensitivity, because Jesus, the way she shakes. ..
“Listen,” the worker calls up to us, distracting from the feverish state I’ve trapped myself in thinking of my young wife’s pussy. “I was just about to go on my dinner break. I’m going to run over and grab a hot dog. You can ride her as long as you want, all right?”
Claire flashes me a look of pure joy over her shoulder.
But all I can hear is the kid telling me to ride her as long as I want.
Logically, he must have been referring to the carousel.
My body has other ideas.
As the merry-go-round lights up and begins to turn in a languorous circle, I move in behind Claire, straddling the rear of the horse’s saddle, my feet braced on the ground on either side of the horse.
I’m tall enough that I can do so without sitting down, but I lower myself enough now to drag Claire backward onto my lap, groaning in her ear when her firm ass puts that immaculate pressure on top of my swollen dick.
Up goes the horse. Slowly.
Those sweet cheeks ride high on my shaft.
Down they go now, pushing my steely inches up against my throbbing balls.
“Son of a bitch, that feels so good,” I rasp into her neck.
But it could feel better. A lot better.
Being inside Claire is an experience that cannot be matched, and after our morning fuck on the couch was cut short, I’m now beginning to feel the tole of waiting.
I grit my teeth when the horse lifts again, her ass teasing my bulge with a naughty drag, and with frantic hands, I yank up her dress so her thong-divided ass presses down on me firmly, so firmly.
“God, I’m so horny, baby,” I choke out, slipping my right hand around to soft mound of her pussy and using the tips of two fingers to gently circle her clit through the silk.
One of those fingers has a gold ring on it proclaiming me this girl’s husband, and hell if that doesn’t make my dick all the harder.
“When you get off the horse, you’re going to leave a little wet print behind. ”
When the play of my fingers turns firm, she shudders, hiccupping back at me over her shoulder, the cotton candy still held in her right hand, half-gone. “Are you going to leave a wet mark, too, Daddy?”
My breaths are loud and monstrous to my own ears.
I’m like a steed after a ten-mile race.
“I’d have to come to do that, wouldn’t I?”
“Y-yes,” she whimpers.
I look around to make sure no one has joined the line for the carousel. Or that no one is watching from the carnival grounds. Thankfully, we are being ignored by the masses, though they are very close by, crowds of voices carrying toward us from nearby rides.
“Would you let me come in your pussy right here and now?” I take my tongue up the sugar-sweet slope of her neck, my fingers finding their way down the front of her panties, my breath escaping me in a mad rush when all I feel is slick flesh.
That swollen bud, so needy for my fingers, her thighs jerking when I make skin-on-skin contact with it, rubbing.
Rubbing. “I think it’s something we both need, isn’t it? ”
“I…I don’t know,” she stammers, embodying the role she was born to play. “Y-yes.”
“Yes?” I repeat.
After a small hesitation, she nods her blonde head, and excited beyond belief that I don’t have to wait any longer, I check for onlookers one more time before I unzip my pants, releasing my stiff cock as the carousel turns us out of sight.
Fast as possible, I re-settle her on my lap and cover us with the flowy skirt of her dress, smoothing it over her thighs and mine.
“Shhh,” I whisper against her ear. “We’re just having an innocent ride, aren’t we?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she responds, dutifully, unable to hide a hint of eagerness.
Yes, I can feel how needy she is, too. It’s not just me.
Her cunt drips onto my elongated sex, lubricating me. Preparing me to take her.
And when I pluck her thong aside and tuck myself up against her sopping wet little fuck hole, the lights of the carnival flash around us, brighter and brighter.
Every inch I sneak into her hot, milky channel causes my stomach muscles to seize tighter, just to hold back my load.
Oh God, this is so wrong. Anyone could see us.
But there’s no stopping now. Not when she’s mewling and wiggling around, trying to get comfortable on my impaling flesh.
“Feel how big you make me in your pretty dress?”
Her walls cave in around me, shaking, and I know, I know with total certainty that we’re in the right place. Together. This is what we were meant for. This is what has been missing in our lives. Each other, yes. Our love, yes. But also this specific brand of hunger and satisfaction.
Finally, when I can take no more slow playing, I lift Clare fully onto my lap and roll my way into a full seat, her cunt swallowing me whole. And she cries out at the unexpected intrusion, so I wrap my hand around her fragile throat, squeezing until she coughs.
“Do you want to get caught with Daddy so deep in your pussy?”
Her sides heave in and out. In and out. “N-no.”
“Rock on it, quietly, then,” I manage, my voice growing hoarse from the need to shout. To moan in pure bliss over my hot little wife. “Eat your cotton candy so no one suspects.”
“Ok-kay,” she says, panting, bringing the cloud of pink to her mouth and biting off a piece, chewing, her hips beginning a slow up and back pattern.
When the horse goes up, she cheats her hips back and rides to the tip of my shaft.
When it descends, she swivels and bucks, grinding me deep to the recesses of her cunt.
“Good girl,” I grit out. “This is how you show me your love properly.”
“It is?”
“Oh yes. Just like this. But a little faster.” I have her hips in a death grip now, urging her back, urging her down into my lap so I can get as deep as possible every time the horse descends on its pole.
“Lean forward and wrap your arms around the horse’s head.
Daddy is going to be hard on you for a minute, but it’s necessary. ”
She looks back at me with wide eyes, as if to gauge my temper or my disposition, and I can’t help but lean down and reassure her with a kiss.
A kiss that feels forbidden in the shadows of the carnival while we’re locked in a state of play, her pussy trembling around my inches, like it’s her first time.
I dip my tongue into her mouth and she gasps, returning the stroke a moment later, shy, but with growing boldness.
I kiss her as long as I can stand the pleasure without unleashing a flood inside of her, then I pull away, gripping her jaw hard.
“Do what I told you to do.”
She weaves a little, eye glazed. “Yes, Daddy.”
I clamp down on a moan when she leans forward and circles her arms about the horse head, clinging, her ass lifting beneath the dress, legs draped on either side of the artificial flanks.
One final time, I check our surroundings to make sure no one is watching and then I press my chest down to her back, pinning her roughly to the horse, and I fuck her in earnest from behind, growling as I pummel her soft cunt, her hole cinched up so tight I know it’s only going to take me a few strokes.
And I’m right.
But those few strokes are euphoria.
Mostly because her legs start to kick, her body struggling through the pleasure.
I’ve come to expect this from her, how she instinctively fights off the orgasm, due to its magnitude, and that’s what she does now, kicking and whining.
“Let it happen,” I growl, fisting her hair and yanking, my hips moving at hyper speed, a race to the finish line, my stomach slapping off her butt cheeks. “Let that little thing squirt for Daddy. Nothing wrong with it. Your body knows it’s right, even if no one else does.”
A gasp falls from her mouth and…
Fuck yeah, there it is.
The dam breaks and she’s creaming all over my pumping cock and…
oh LORD…that’s my exit sign. I take it with a closed mouth groan, feeding a torrent of seed into her clenching hole, her sweet body jolting from the immensity of the release.
Mine, too. We spasm together, grinding, gasping for air, my mouth against her sweaty neck.
I’m shaken, as I am every single time I take Claire, and it takes me long, lethargic moments to recover, but I know it’s extra important this time to regain my senses.
Still catching my breath, I fix her clothing, as well as my own, pulling her limp body into my arms just in time for the carnival worker to return with a half-eaten hot dog.
“Enjoy the ride?” he asks, shutting down the carousel.
“Sure did,” I say, giving him a curt nod as I step off the ride. When the worker looks at my passed-out wife with an air of concern, I say, “The excitement took a lot out of her,” and I keep walking, putting us in an Uber and bringing my wife home for the first time.
Little do I know that it might be the last.