Payton #3
“Take it, baby, fucking own me with this tight pussy, my beautiful, filthy whore. You feel so good, my favorite set of holes.” I’m holding it together by a thread, keeping up as much of the degradation and praise that makes her moan and grip me tighter, but I’m not going to last long the way she’s strangling my cock.
Seeing her pretty pink pussy stretching around my cock every time I slam into her and her engagement ring flashing when her hand moves is unraveling every thread of control I possess. This glorious woman is mine.
“Oh, Daddy, right there, please don’t stop,” she begs, her legs tightening around my hips in our contorted position.
I support her weight on my thighs and move a hand to her clit, circling as I continue to fuck her.
Soon, she cries out and clamps down on me, her orgasm rolling over her like a tidal wave and dripping down my cock as she squirts.
Fuuuck. The tight grip and the knowledge that I did that to her send me barreling over the edge.
Pressing her against the window, I barely catch myself on one hand, burying myself balls deep as I come harder than I have in my life.
“Fuck,” I swear, holding her tightly as my cock jerks and she squeezes me dry. When I can see straight, I carry her back to the sofa and fall back into it, Ainsley in my lap, still on my cock, with our cum spilling around our thighs. I love the way she wears it.
“I hope you pay the cleaning crew well,” she quips dreamily, her breaths coming in fast pants as she leans into me.
“We made an absolute mess out of that window and the floor. If that happens when we get engaged, I can’t even imagine what the mess will be like when we get married and I’m your wife. ”
My wife. I want that. I laugh and hold her closer, stroking her hair and nuzzling her neck to start our aftercare.
Of course she’d make jokes after the best sex and most explosive orgasms we’ve experienced in our three years together.
That means I did my job. She’s processing and no longer overwhelmed.
“Let’s get married now. I want to call you my wife as soon as possible.”
She sits up and turns to look at me, shock replacing the sex haze on her face. “Right now, when your cum is still sticky on my thighs?” she questions.
“Tonight, tomorrow, as soon as we can make it happen in a way you’re happy with. I need you as my wife and I need to be your husband more than anything.”
Talk about post-nut clarity. I came so hard I realized I don’t want a fiancée. I need to start this chapter of our lives immediately.
“What about my family, the dress, and all the traditional things that weddings need?” She worries her lip until I pull it free.
“What about us is traditional?” I challenge.
“Our relationship started out fake to appease my family. We have the kinkiest sex life and you’re my collared sub, calling me Daddy while I use your perfect set of holes like the fucktoy you are.
You wrote an anonymous gossip blog calling my family out on bullshit with our business for years before you were finally outed for it while dating me.
None of that screams white chapel wedding with a reception at a country club where Meemaw leaves before the DJ starts playing Ludacris, but I’ll do anything you want if it makes you happy. ”
She shakes her head. “I don’t need any of that.
” Her lashes lower and she peeks up at me like she’s sharing something secret.
“I do want a pretty dress and a delicious cake and the location to be meaningful to us, though. What about at the lakehouse? Just our families and closest friends. A ceremony at sunset and a reception by the pool.” She sounds wistful like she’s thought about this.
“That’s perfect.” I can see the picture she’s painted and I want that, knowing it’ll make her happy. “What’s our first dance song?” She’s probably thought of that, also. She begins to shiver now that we’ve cooled down. I reach for my jacket and pull it over her like a blanket.
“‘Never Let Me Go’ by Florence and the Machine,” she answers softly. I’m vaguely familiar with the song, but if she likes it, it’s perfect. Hell, I’d dance with her to a banjo rendition of a Taylor Swift song if she asked me to.
“I like the way that sounds. A lakeside wedding with you in a beautiful dress in front of the people we love.”
“And cake.”
“Can’t forget the cake. Chocolate, I assume?”
“Of course.” She stiffens against me and I feel her hard-earned relaxation fleeing. “God, there are so many details and things to consider even if we do it quick and simple.” Anxiety pitches her voice higher.
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll have a team on it tonight if you want. The only thing you need to do is make sure the dress you want to wear fits. I think Paige has a place she loves that does fast work.”
“Haute Belle,” Ainsley says absently, picking at her cuticles. “We could do this fast and not worry about the details? It would be everything we wanted without the stress?”
“Yes, my love. I’d make your dreams come true. Say the word and you’ll be my wife.”
She looks up at me with eyes full of trust. “I want to be your wife. Let’s do it.”
And that’s exactly what we do.