Part Four #3
With a smile, she pictured Ian fitting inside of her, so large, but not unbearably large, thanks to her body stretching to meet him. Wrap around him snugly. Flexing just enough.
“Come here,” she whispered, and rolled to her back, feeling her middle heat.
“Love, I—”
“Come here. I’m going to fit around you just right. My body knows yours. Wants yours. Always has. Just right. First time will feel so good, my Ian, just the way we knew each other at first glance.”
IAN DIDN’T HAVE TO be told twice, not after that beautiful plea. He rolled over his delicate little bride and marveled at the way her body clung right to him, long legs over his thick ones, soft hands on his hardness, pulling him to her center, and nodding.
She was a Falkirk witch, he reminded himself, and their spells rarely went wrong. In only a second of pushing, he felt the divine tightness of her heat around him, welcoming him with a wet embrace.
Farrah still bit her lip and groaned, eyes closed, breathing through his entrance. “Too much?”
“Just big, but perfect,” she smiled. “I didn’t make myself a different shape. I made myself the right one. I told my body you were coming in, and it’s molding right to you.”
Ian grunted back an acknowledgment, but he wasn’t sure he could articulate his thanks, or his love, or his wonderment at her skill.
Her pussy gripped and clung, soaking him in seconds, making him slip forward and fall to his elbows as he buried himself up to the knot, hearing her whimpering gasps as if listening to a distant rumble of ocean waves.
And once he was in, her walls struggled and fought to hold him, her hips restlessly working and squirming to move with him, even though he was frozen still, lost in her sensation, and the awe of being one with her.
“Perfection,” he finally managed a single word, and loved the smile she beamed up at him, loved the way she tilted her mouth for a kiss.
“It’s going to be better once we learn to move together,” she encouraged.
“Is that so?” Ian felt his worry fully evaporate as Farrah’s sounds turned to ones of pure pleasure, and he could feel her flesh squeezing against him. “Let me do all the work, pet. Husband ought to take care of his wife.”
“You already spoiled me earlier. I didn’t even return the favor yet.”
“Aye, but maybe you will later.”
“Tonight, if you want,” Farrah whispered, and licked her lips.
The mental image of Farrah on her knees, licking his cock, maybe even letting him release across her lips, coupled with the feeling of her sweet cunny hugging him, almost made him burst at once. But that wouldn’t do. That would never do for a woman of his.
“You’re mine, Farrah Falkirk. Mine, and only mine,” he breathed against her forehead, lips resting there while he found his rhythm. Clumsy at first, but sweet, because it was with her.
“You’re all mine, Ian Fenclan. And I’m Farrah Fenclan from now on, you know.”
“That’s right. My treasure. My bride.” His hips pumped and dipped, feeling her open around him, hot juice coating him when he plundered her pussy, working up to a tempo that made her arch her back, her hands digging into his shoulders.
“Rub that pussy for me, Farrah. Rub yourself while I’m taking care of you,” he urged, and nearly popped again when she moaned and nodded, licked her fingers, and slid them right to her clit.
He could feel her fingertips graze his cock on every inward thrust, and he held himself in to let her buck and grind on his hardness, feeling her muscles working.
“I don’t want to come without you. Not again. Seems greedy,” Farrah groaned as he continued to rut in her.
“You need to. It’ll help?”
“Help what?”
“I’m not all in yet. There’s a big, hard knot that’s supposed to sink into you. Did your spell account for that?”
Farrah’s closed eyes opened. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “I think it’ll work, though. I want it to work.”
Ian hesitated. Once his knot was in her, there would be no coming apart until he softened, maybe in twenty or thirty minutes.
His Farrah would be full of him, full of his seed, too, and he’d watch her writhe and come as many times as she could stand, pinned and at the mercy of his hardness inside and his fingertips outside.
“It’ll maybe mean bairns soon if we do that. I can pull out now, but not after the knot is inside.”
“I’m not fertile until next week—on our wedding night. I know these things. All Falkrirk women do,” she smiled. “And this Fenclan bride would love some bairns—in a few years’ time. There’s knotting tea for me, and potion for you to make sure we can start our family when we’re ready.”
He wanted to tell her that the thought of her swelling with their children was a beautiful thought, an erotic thought, and that if he kept thinking about it, he’d be ready in seconds.
Instead, he gripped her hips, sat back on his knees, and pulled her in tight, holding her firm while his knot tapped at her entrance.
“Oh. Oh, fuck, yes, Ian. So close,” she whispered, rubbing her pussy harder.
He watched her swallowing him up, pink spread around dark, throbbing green, hard little clit bright like a berry and begging to be pinched.
He moved his fingers with hers, taking control of her pleasure switch, working it until her sounds peaked, and her pussy clamped down with the start of her climax.
Then he shoved, pushing in hard, lip bitten in pleasure and a hint of pain as his knot slid into her tight opening. He was immediately enveloped in her orgasm and her scream, and his knot was strangled in her grip.
“Ian!” Farrah wailed, rubbing her breasts while he massaged her clit.
Despite the tightness that was almost painful, the squeezing sensation of her walls milked his cum out in a hard burst that surprised him. And once Ian started, he couldn’t stop.
“Fuck! Farrah, love, oh fuck,” he panted, fist slamming into the ground as his cum flooded her and made her tight haven tighter still, and twice as hot and slippery. “My God,” he whispered reverently.
“My Ian,” Farrah gasped up at him, eyes hazy, body limp. “Oh, Ian... Oh, that was... That was perfection,” she echoed his earlier cry.
He eased down on top of her, kissing her tenderly, and rolled them to their sides. He hugged her close, heart hammering, watching his beautiful Farrah splayed and limp against him. “Holding you in my arms, feeling you around me... That’s the perfection, sweet one.”
Farrah kissed the broad planes of his chest before curling up tightly to him, moaning softly as he remained inside of her, hard and full. “I never imagined a month ago that my summer in Scotland would end up like this,” she sighed.
“Nor did I, not a month ago. But almost,” Ian tipped her head back and kissed her, long and deep. “I knew I wanted to end up this way, with you as my bride, from the second I saw you.”