Chapter 18 #2
She falls apart. Clenching so hard around me, I see white. Her whole body shaking, back arching off the bed, my name torn from her throat like it’s the only word she knows. Fuck. The feeling of her coming on my cock nearly drags me under.
But I’m not done.
I pull out and she whines. I flip her over, and she goes willingly, already knowing. I prop a pillow under her hips, palming her gorgeous ass with both hands. Squeezing. Spreading.
“God, look at you,” I groan. Her pussy’s swollen, slick, leaking. Her ass, full, round, fucking perfect. I slap it. Just enough to make her gasp and her skin warm under my palm. “Most beautiful woman in the world spread out on my bed. My wife.”
“Beau, please…” She pushes back toward me, needy and impatient.
I grab a fistful of her braids and tug her head back, lining up behind her. “Please, what, baby?”
“Fuck me. Fill me up. Please, I need it…”
My cock throbs. “Need what, Ina? Say it.”
She looks back over her shoulder. Eyes wild. Lips swollen. Gorgeous and wrecked, and mine.
“I need my husband inside me.”
I slam home.
She screams into the pillow, and I groan, holding her hips hard enough to leave marks. Good. I want my marks on my wife, want her to feel me tomorrow. I want her to sit down at breakfast and wince and remember exactly who put that ache between her legs.
I fuck her deep. Hard. One hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her hip. The sound of skin on skin fills the room. Wet. Raw. Obscene. Mixed with her moans and my grunts and the creak of the bed frame.
“Hear that?” I growl, snapping my hips. “That’s the sound of your husband claiming what’s his.” She sobs into the sheets. “This pussy… this body. All. Fucking. Mine.”
“Yours,” she cries. “All yours, baby. Always.”
I lean over her, my chest against her back, my mouth at her ear.
“Gonna fill you up, Ina. Gonna pump this pussy so full of me you’re leaking for days.
” She clenches hard around me. “And when it takes…” I thrust deep and hold.
“When your belly starts to grow with our baby…” Another deep grind.
“I’m gonna fuck you through every month of it.
Worship every new curve. Lick every new stretch mark. ”
“Oh God, Beau…” She’s shaking. Her whole body, trembling. Close.
I reach around and find her clit. Swollen. Slippery. I circle it fast while I drive into her from behind, relentless.
“Come with me, baby,” I grit through my teeth, my own orgasm building at the base of my spine like a fucking freight train. “Come on your husband’s cock. Let me feel it.”
She shatters. Screaming my name so loud the candles probably flicker. Her pussy clamps down on me, milking, pulling, and I let go. I come so hard my vision blacks out. Burying myself as deep as I can go. Spilling inside her in hot, thick pulses. Groaning into her neck like a man destroyed.
“Fuck… Ina… my wife… take it all, baby… every drop…”
She takes it. Takes me. Her body pulling me in, holding me tight. Her pussy still fluttering and squeezing as I grind the last of my release inside her.
We collapse. A sweaty, tangled heap of limbs and heavy breathing, and thundering hearts.
I don’t pull out. Can’t. Won’t. My cock stays buried inside my wife while I press lazy kisses to her shoulder. Her neck. The spot behind her ear that always makes her shiver.
Eventually, she turns her head. One eye open. Looking thoroughly destroyed.
“You’re gonna kill me, Beau Redding,” she mumbles into the pillow.
“Can’t. Just married you. Gotta keep you alive for the honeymoon.”
She snort-laughs. “There’s more?!”
I grin against her damp skin. “Baby, we haven’t even left Texas yet.”
She groans dramatically, burying her face. “My poor vagina.”
I chuckle. Low, dark. Press a kiss to her spine. “She’ll survive. She’s tough. Takes after her owner.”
“I can’t believe you just called my vagina tough.”
“It’s a compliment.”
“It is NOT.”
I laugh. For real. Full and deep. The kind of laugh I didn’t know I had in me before her.
I carefully ease out of her, and she makes a soft sound…
half protest, half relief. I grab the warm towel I’d left on the nightstand and clean her up.
Slow. Gentle. Between her thighs, over her belly, down her legs.
She watches me with her big brown eyes, all soft and glowing.
“You always take such good care of me,” she whispers.
“Always will.”
I toss the towel and pull the blanket over us. Tuck her into my chest. Her cheek against my heart. Her fingers tracing lazy circles on my ribs. My ring on her hand, warm between our bodies.
We’re quiet for a while. The candles burn low. The house settles around us.
“Beau?” she murmurs, half-asleep.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
She shifts, tilting her face up. Her eyes are sleepy and full and so beautiful my chest aches.
“For not letting me talk myself out of this. For showing up on my porch that first night and just…” She shakes her head, smiling softly. “And for being so damn sure. Even when I wasn’t.”
I tighten my arms around her. Kiss the top of her head.
“Knew the second I saw you, Ina. Told you that. Wasn’t ever gonna let you slip away.”
She snuggles deeper into my chest. “Stubborn bull.”
“Your stubborn bull.”
She hums. Happy. Content. Mine.
“Beau?”
“Mm?”
“You think it worked?” Her voice is barely a whisper now. Shy in a way I rarely hear from my bold, beautiful wife. Her hand drifts to her belly. “Tonight?”
My heart slams against my ribs. I cover her hand with mine. Big over small. Rough over soft. Both of us pressing gently against her warm skin.
“If it didn’t,” I say, my voice thick, “we’ll try again in the morning.” I kiss her hair. “And after breakfast.” Another kiss. “And before lunch.”
She laughs, sleepy and warm. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m thorough.”
She drifts off with a smile on her lips, her body soft and heavy against mine. Her breathing goes slow. Steady. The kind of deep sleep that only comes when you feel completely safe.
And I lie there in the dark. Holding my wife. Listening to the quiet of our land. Feeling her heartbeat against my skin.
This woman showed up at a St. Patrick’s Day fair and knocked my entire world sideways. She tried to fight it. Tried to talk herself out of me. Out of us. Told herself she was too old, too divorced, too done.
But I saw her. All of her. And I wasn’t about to let the best thing that ever happened to me walk away over something as stupid as fear.
Now she’s here. In my bed. In my arms. Wearing my ring. Carrying my name. And maybe, if I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in Texas, carrying something else too. I press one last kiss to her temple. Breathe her in. Then I close my eyes. And smile. My wife. Damn, that sounds good.