Fourth of July – 5 months later
Standing on the sidewalk in front of my old house, I pause a long moment to reflect on the past six months as I stare at the porch where my future awaits. Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you, doesn’t it? Mine sure has. I’m now a mother to four flourishing children, I’m madly in love, I have the bestest, best friend a girl could hope for, and today I get to make it all official. I’m standing here in my wedding dress with my arm hooked through my father’s, as he patiently waits for me to make the trek up the walkway. To the porch, where our love story began all those years ago—when we were young and inexperienced. This is the same place I lost my virginity, had my first child and second. It’s also the first house I ever had my heart broken. So many memories began here. But it’s not the end for us. Simply a new beginning.
Two months ago when we placed my first real home on the market, my future husband suggested we get married here as a way to close an important chapter in our lives and start anew. Last week, we discussed it with the buyers. They were awesome about it. Not that they wouldn’t be. They’re friends of Big’s. So I know it’s going to be cared for long term. Texas is our home now. A place the girls and I want to stay for good. It’s where Ryker’s club is, as well as the exquisite cabin he built for us. The girls also love their school, even though it’s out for the summer. Red Fort is the ideal place to raise our children, surrounded by family who loves them, including their dad. Plus, the weather’s better in the south. It rarely snows.
Peering down at my white, knee-length dress, I grin privately at the all-white Chucks I wore for this special occasion. If Ryker was allowed to wear jeans, a t-shirt, boots, and his cut to marry me, I sure as hell wasn’t wearing the traditional wedding dress and heels. Instead, I found this delicate, well cared for beauty at a second-hand store. The sheer neckline and beaded bodice is what sold me on it. Kade, too. Who I dragged to half a dozen thrift stores until I found it. To me, getting married to your soulmate shouldn’t cost thousands of dollars. All you need is a handful of family and friends, a special place, and the man of your dreams. Today couldn’t be any more perfect.
On either side of the makeshift aisle, a sea of bikers and family alike cover the front lawn. There’s heaps of leather and denim to go around. Dickcheese stands beside the front steps as both my maid of honor and Ryker’s best man. Alongside him are our eldest daughters who insisted on wearing white dresses to match mine, as well as our special initial necklaces. Somewhere in the crowd, Bear’s caring for our infants, who I fed less than an hour ago so they’d be too tired to fuss.
This is it.
This is our time.
Finally.
Nodding once to Gunz that I’m ready for this, our makeshift DJ lifts his chin in acknowledgment and seconds later out pours Hopelessly Devoted To You: by Olivia Newton-John—a song that Ryker chose as my processional because he claims it encompasses my devotion to him like no other song can. I’d have to say I agree.
Side-eyeing Dad, I give him a playful nudge with my hip. “You ready to marry off your daughter?”
Nodding stiffly, he dashes a tattooed knuckle beneath each eye. The movement tears at my heartstrings.
“Dad, I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I reassure in the tenderest tone I can conjure, willing myself not to cry despite the momentous occasion.
Another stiff nod is his reply, as his throat works through a forced swallow.
Pressing my glossed lips together, I take a fortifying breath before squaring my shoulders and powering through one of the most important days of my life.
I will not cry.
I will not cry.
Each step we make side by side is another toward the man of my dreams. Gathering the courage, I lift my gaze to meet Ryker’s. His blue eyes glued to me, rimmed in red. Unshed tears swim in the penetrating depths. This isn’t fair. He can’t cry, too. There’s only so much I can withstand. He has to stop. I don’t wanna ruin my makeup that the Sacred Sisters took ages to perfect. The smoky eye won’t be smoky anymore, if I can’t keep these bubbling emotions in check.
A lone tear treks down his left cheek.
One of mine follow.
Dammit.
Please don’t let messy eye makeup ruin the wedding photos. We’re only doing this once.
Step by slow step, the music serenades our approach. Though the words don’t penetrate through the erratic pulse whooshing through my ears. My fingers tremble around the tiny bouquet of flowers clutched in my hand. Between one blink and the next, we’re standing at the bottom of the stairs. Down saunters my confident lover to join us.
Offering his upturned palm to me, Ryker clasps my dad’s shoulder with the other. They exchange a stern look of understanding and respect.
“Love you, peanut.” Dad pecks my cheek with shaky lips, then trades me off. Nervous as all get out, I forget to respond in kind as my dainty hand slips into a much larger one that encases mine in damp comfort.
Thrum, thrum, thrum, my heart hammers wildly.
“Come on, sweetheart.” Ryker’s infinitely considerate as he escorts me to the top of the porch one stair at a time no matter how long it takes my nervous feet to move.
Face to face, eyes locked as one, Ryker tugs the bouquet from my death grip and throws it to his brother. I’m too preoccupied with him to care what happens to the flowers. I didn’t wanna carry them anyhow.
To comfort me further, my trembling hands are clasped between his. I shoot my Asshole a weary smile, chock-full of nerves. He returns the sentiment with an adoring grin and an air blown kiss.
My heart leaps sky high trying to catch the affection.
Our officiant, Big Dick, clears his throat to gather everyone’s attention. The noise dies immediately, and Gunz shuts off the music.
“We are gathered here today to witness Kat and Ryker in holy Sacred Sinner matrimony.”
The crowd of bikers respond with a round of hardy grunts and fuck yeahs.
“When Ryker approached me last month to marry them, I was honored to join such a badass woman and loyal brother for this ride in life. So without further ado, do you Kat take Ryker to be your old man ‘til he’s put to ground?”
Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, I will my tears to stay away. “I do,” I announce with fierce conviction, head held high.
Our guests howl their approval. Motorcycle engines rev in celebration.
Ryker beams a Colgate smile and lifts both of my hands to his mouth. Not giving a shit what anyone thinks, he kisses my knuckles one by one as those soulful eyes bore into mine, expressing a million words in a tender heartbeat.
My bottom lip wobbles.
A traitorous tear slips free, and I let it fall.
I dunno how much longer I can restrain the waterworks.
He’s killing me with his surplus of sweetness. Not to mention how good he looks today of all days. So strong, and sexy with his broad shoulders putting that cotton t-shirt through a strenuous workout. The stubble on his face is sonnet worthy. Those lips illegally sensuous as they make their way across my fingers.
In unorthodox fashion, Big offers us our wedding rings. Mine’s a simple diamond encrusted band that matches my engagement ring. It looks tiny resting in his giant mitt. Ryker’s is a simple black tungsten carbide ring. Inside each of them, Forever Tiger & Asshole are etched.
Easing my hands from Ryker, I pluck his band from Big’s palm. The first attempt, I drop it thanks to shaky fingers. The second doesn’t fare much better. By the third try, I’m able to hook my thumb through it. At least it didn’t drop on the porch.
Ousting a shuddery breath, I pinch the metal between my opposite thumb and forefinger. I slip it on Ryker’s proffered digit with marginal difficulty, considering I’m on the cusp of having a meltdown.
Without preamble, another two tears break free.
This is not how I foresaw our wedding. Nowhere in my dreams did I picture me barely holding it together.
Once the ring is safely on its owner, Ryker cups my jaw with both hands, forcing me to retain eye contact. I chew on my bottom lip, not caring at this point if I ruin the gloss. Why can’t I stop trembling? This is embarrassing, almost as embarrassing as the day he asked me to marry him. I couldn’t keep my shit together then, either.
“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart,” he soothes in that gruff, panty soaking, southern gentleman’s tone. More water swims in his vision, too. What a pathetic sight we are. A match made in emotional heaven. I inwardly snort at the thought.
“I… I know.”
Ryker’s thumb massages my scarred cheek in the gentlest of brushes as he retrieves my wedding band from Big’s upturned palm. “Go on, brother,” he instructs.
For a split second Big Dick dips his forehead out of respect. “Ryker, brother, do you take this babe to be your old lady for eternity?”
Stepping forward, crowding my space, Ryker slips the ring on my finger as smooth as a ghost. Wrapping his arm around my middle, he smashes my front to his and growls, “Fuck yeah, I do.”
There’s a megawatt, eye-crinkling smile that lights up the galaxy a millisecond before a pair of sinful lips crash down on mine, stealing all the oxygen from my lungs. Letting him in, our tongues clash in a tangle of bliss. Greedy moans pour from one mouth to the other. Someone announces us, man and wife. A deafening roar of celebration echoes across two city blocks.
This is…Mmmm… yes…
Palming the back of my head, Ryker grabs my ass with his opposite hand and hoists me up with no effort. On instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist like a monkey, locking my ankles. Arms following suit, they hook around his thick neck. Thank heavens for short dresses.
Mouths fused in a love imbued fog, he stumbles into our old house with Big’s help. I think. Maybe. Who knows how we got in here. All I care is that he’s mine. For always. And we’re touching. Gripping. Hungry. His tongue’s turning me inside out. Sweet bejesus he can kiss. Who needs to breathe, talk, or think when your man can fuck your mouth like Magic Mike drizzled with hot fudge, topped with whipped cream and a cherry in the most risqué of places?
On his… yeah.
Whipped cream sounds incredible. We need some. For tonight. Between my legs. Between his. On his dick. His balls. Yum.
Kicking the door shut with his boot heel, we pivot, and my back meets wood with a slam, knocking what bit of air I have left from my chest. I gasp into our kiss. Ryker growls like an animal possessed, sending tiny vibrations of approval through his pecs. My nipples harden to sharp points, stabbing against the lace of my new bra.
Safely supported by my man and the door, Ryker tears our lips apart and shoves a hand between the juncture of my thighs. Delicate panties are torn asunder. His jeans zipper ripped down. Then, without a moments pause, there’s connection. It’s deep. It’s brutal. It’s frantic. It’s undiluted ecstasy. Perfection.
Mouth falling open in a silent cry of rapture, eyes rolling back in their sockets, Ryker attacks my throat with sharp nips and kisses. “It’s about time I get to fuck my wife in the first place we met,” he groans beneath my ear. His breath hot and raspy, steams my skin… sending shivers throughout.
A moan of agreement erupts from my parched throat. I attempt to swallow. To respond. But I’m far too gone to say anything. I can never get enough of this man. Ever. It’s both a blessing and a curse.
Drawing his hips back, my husband hammers my wetness with zero remorse. My shoulders bounce off the door between thrusts. Fingers dig into my ass, bruising flesh, marking it. I moan for more. Beg. Plead.
His teeth sink into the skin above my collarbone.
“Ry-ker!” I scream, voice cracking.
“What am I?” He does it again, owning my pussy with each skillful lunge.
“My…” Sweat drips. Nails bite into the back of his neck as I hold on for the ride of my life. My pussy clenches around his cock, milking the girth. Reveling in it.
More. I need more.
“Your what?” He bottoms out, swiveling his hips. Without warning the base of my spine tingles, the walls of my sex flutter, and I explode. Fragments of who I am splinter into shades of pinks and oranges. Mere dots of light dancing behind my eyelids that are squeezed shut as I convulse in his arms. Potent drops of pleasure imbue every cell of my body.
“Husband,” I choke out between waves of euphoria.
“That’s right,” he husks, nipping my earlobe. “Your fucking husband. You’re my wife. Can’t get rid of me now, Tiger. I own this pussy.”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“You… oh fuck… own… yes… th-this…”
“Pussy,” he growls to my parted lips, nipping the bottom before sucking it into his mouth. “You’re mine.”
“Oh… G-God… Yes.”
“Do you want my cum inside you, beautiful? Do you want your husband’s cum?”
“Yes! Please! Yes. Yes. Please,” I chant.
I’m high—on him. Floating out of body in another realm, where I’m acutely aware of every tiny movement, sensation, smell—it’s magical. From the aching stretch that leaves me delirious with want, to his masculine scent of leather, cologne, and man invading my nostrils, I’m lost to him. To us.
“Not yet.” Another nip to my bottom lip, then we’re moving away from the door.
Considerate of my blissed out state, Ryker lays me flat on my back in the middle of our old living room. My eyelids lift to half mast, blearily watching as he mounts me again where we’ve made love many times before. My dress pools around my waist, the cold floor against my bare ass oddly arousing. A sweet kiss is dropped to my upper lip before my lover draws away, leaving me exposed. Tempting him further, my thighs fall open, giving him the perfect view of my shaved bits. A shot of cool air bathes my sex. I love the tingle. Desire it. Ryker samples his bottom lip with the flick of his tongue, staring at my pussy like he wants to feast on the buffet. Fuck, I hope he does. I want that mouth anywhere on me. Everywhere.
Rocking back on his haunches, my husband peels his jeans and boxers down his legs to rest above his knees. The tattoo on his thigh that pays homage to me is a sight for sore eyes. My heart gives an extra thump at the view. Unable to keep his hands to himself, Ryker’s palm skims up my leg, eliciting goosebumps. I shiver despite myself, and he smiles like the devil who’s about to corrupt his virgin sacrifice.
Yes. Take me. I surrender. Let me be yours.
There’s a half a second pause that lingers with unspoken anticipation, making my blood pressure roar before he buries his face in my pussy.
My back arches off the floor in a broken war cry as two fingers plunge inside. They curve just right, hitting the spot that drives me crazy. Ryker’s tongue joins in on the action, attacking my clit with sharp lashes. Body no longer my own, I thrash like a fish outta water.
“Ryker!” I squeal, legs quivering. Wrapping them around his shoulders, heels digging into his muscles, I grab the back of his head, nails penetrating skin, and shamelessly grind my pussy to his face. My stupidly sexy husband growls his approval, eating me like there’s no tomorrow. The cacophony of sloppy finger fucking and harsh breaths fill the room. I bask in the raw debauchery. Our first time was nothing like this. This is better. This is us, unhinged, uninhibited—the way it ought to be.
Teeth attack my clit, and that’s all it takes to have me soaring. The orgasm is soul clutching, as it rips its way through every cell. Hoarse nonsense pours from my throat in endless groans as I undulate against that gorgeous face, bathing it in my juices. Ryker moans as I moan, lapping my entrance around his encroaching fingers.
Prying my hands off his head, Ryker sits back and wipes the mess I’ve made from his face with the hem of his shirt. In and out, his massive chest heaves for oxygen. Sweat drips from his bald head. Lips red and swollen. Pupils blown. His smooth, steely rod stands proudly between his thighs, as a waterfall of pre-cum cascades down its length, making it glisten. I lick my lips, not wanting all that to go to waste.
“You wanna fuck my mouth with that big thing?” I purr, rising up to rest on my elbows.
Ryker groans, cupping his balls and giving them a mighty squeeze. “You can’t talk to me like that and expect me not to blow my load. Jesus. Babe. You’re fuckin’ hot.”
“Is that a no?” I wink, channeling my inner seductress.
“That’s a… maybe later.”
I pout, turning my bottom lip down.
“Stop. Seriously. I’m tryin’ to make this last.”
“You can come, ya know. This doesn’t have to be about me getting off.” Truth be told it’s always about me getting mine. At least in Ryker’s mind, it is. Four weeks after I gave birth to Lucy he was forcing me to come on his tongue. Two weeks after that we were at it like rabbits. My orgasms always crest in the teens, whereas he holds out for his explosive one. It’s flattering albeit a bit frustrating at times. It’s not like he can’t go multiple rounds. He merely chooses not to focus on his end game, only mine, until I’m left a rag doll of epic proportions. Sometimes, I can barely remember my name afterward. It’s that intense. However, our wedding day shouldn’t be the same. This is for us. Not me. And I’ll be damned if I don’t have that cock in every hole by the time we’re finished. You only get to consummate your marriage once. Come Hell or high water, we’re gonna consummate the fuck out of this body with that drool-worthy man meat.
“Kat,” Ryker warns. “We can’t. Just give me a sec. Kay?” his voice squeaks at the end.
More nut squeezing ensues. He stares up at the ceiling as if that’ll fix whatever is going on between his legs, or inside his head. Ryker discharges a weighted sigh. His dick drips more pre-cum as if it has no intention of listening to whatever war he’s waging with it. This is silly. He doesn’t have to last an hour. We’ve got all day. The Fourth of July party at Big’s compound isn’t ending anytime soon. Our kids are safe. The Sacred Sisters ensured me they would be taken care of. This house is ours for a few more hours. He’s taking this too seriously.
Screw it.
Tired of waiting, I sit up and do whatever the fuck I want. In this case, I dive forward and swallow that thick cock whole. In one swoop, my tonsils are reunited with their best friend. Ryker shudders. His dick throbs in my throat. A guttural, broken moan battles in his chest. Without warning he curses as cum erupts from his rod, shooting down my throat in salty bursts. Hips sputtering, he fucks my mouth in tiny thrusts, expelling the sexiest groans that sound like they hurt so good. Trembling fingers slide into my fancy up-do as I take all he gives with infinite pleasure.
That’s it. Exactly what I wanted.
“Kat,” Ryker rasps, as he pulls me off his cock. It exits my mouth with a filthy wet pop. A string of cum trails from my mouth to his slit. He breaks the iridescent connection with the slow swipe of his thumb across my bottom lip.
Is it bad I wanna climb up and ride his slightly softening dick until I get off again? Having him lose control in my mouth was… hot a sin. He should do that more often. I’m ready for the next round.
Pushing off his thighs, I sit on my feet tucked beneath me, dress fanned all around.
Ryker cups my cheek, staring at me adoringly. “I fuckin’ love you.” He shakes his head, smiling a shy smile, cheeks flushed. “I can’t believe I blew down your throat that fast. That’s embarrasin’ as fuck. Don’t tell Kade or I’ll never live that shit down.”
Turning toward his touch, I kiss his palm, quirking a grin as my eyelashes flutter. “I thought it was sexy.”
“Babe. Fuck. You gotta stop lookin’ at me like that.” Ryker wraps a fist around his dick, giving it a tug. A bubble of leftover cum pearls on the tip. He uses his thumb to smear it around.
“Like what?” I whisper, ogling that part of him as my sex clenches, ready for action.
“Like you wanna fuck me to death.”
I nibble my bottom lip, trying my best to keep from attacking him. My restraint won’t last long if he keeps eyeing me that way as he strokes that dick. “Maybe I do. You’re my husband now. Isn’t that implied?”
An affectionate head shake. “Christ. You’re too much.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“That’s never a bad thing. You’re the sexiest woman on the planet. There’s no other woman I’d wanna fuck me to death, than you.”
“Good.” Throwing caution to the wind, I wrap my arms around Ryker’s neck and take his mouth in a searing kiss. Teeth clang, tongues wrestle, and the world fades to nothing but us in this moment. Clothes come off. His thickness enters me again, stretching my walls to the max. We don’t fight it. The burning lust, it roars through us, suffusing our veins. We fuck doggy style in the living room, my knees digging into the hardwood. In the kitchen my bare ass sits on the counter as he takes me there, legs wrapped around his waist where he marks my throat with primal bites. In our old bathroom, I ride him on the toilet before he bends me over the sink to watch us connect in the mirror. Wetness runs down my inner thighs, yet we power on, basking in each other, trying to slake the never-ending lust.
By the time we reach our old bedroom we’re drenched in sweat, and I’ve come so many times I struggle to stand. Dropping into a heap of naked, sticky limbs, Ryker slides home, fingers clasped in mine, pinned above my head where the bed used to be. He kisses me softly as we make love, skin connected from hips to hands.
“You’re mine,” he mutters to my lips, swiping his tongue across the cupids bow.
“Yes,” I pant, because I have no clue what else to say. I’m wrecked.
“Gonna cum in you again.” Sweat drips off his forehead onto my cheek, mixing with my own. His pulse beats in sync with mine, as my hard nipples graze against his pecs with each thrust.
“Third time’s a charm,” I quip.
“Is my wife gonna come on my cock before I go?” His eyes delve into mine. Soul chaining to soul.
“I think…” Yes. Yes, I am. Lifting my head off the ground to fuse our lips in a delicate kiss. My thighs quiver as my sex milks his dick with all she has. Another slow in and out, his balls collide with my ass, and that’s all she wrote. I come. Not hard. But softly. Warmth cascades throughout, sparking little bursts of pleasure from toes to fingertips.
“Husband,” I whisper, kissing his chin.
“Wife.” A guttural prayer on his lips as he spends inside me one last time.
I’m dead. This has to be what heaven feels like. I’ve never, in all my life been this thoroughly dicked. Twice he came in my pussy and once in my mouth. If I was able to get pregnant, we’d be growing another baby by now. Thankfully, I had my tubes tied two months ago. No more kiddos for us. Speaking of which, I hope they’re doing okay. The babies especially. They don’t do so well being away from mama for any length of time. But we can worry about all that later.
Rolling off, dropping onto his back on the floor with a sated groan, Ryker tugs me closer. I lay my head on his sweaty chest not caring one iota how gross it is. Nuzzling my nose to his heated skin, I inhale his yumminess. Sweet Jesus, how’s it possible for a man to smell even better after sex? He does. Ryker’s scent is a damn aphrodisiac. If I wasn’t exhausted, I’d… screw it.
Not having enough connection, I climb on top of my man, straddling his waist. I return my cheek to his pec. Yesss. I sigh. This is much better. He’s warm. So, so very warm. It’s delicious. Those big arms of his fold around me in a Ryker cocoon. I wish we could freeze this moment and come back to it for always, when I’m ready to throttle him or put his nuts in a meat grinder. This right here is why I love him.
“You’re amazing.” Ryker peppers the top of my head with kisses. Somewhere along our sex fest route my fancy up-do came undone. Right now I could care less what my hair looks like.
He’s not finished. “Sometimes I wish I would’ve married you sooner. Not that I don’t regret the past and the choices I made. But knowin’ that we’re here after all this time with four beautiful kids. Happy. Together. In love. It almost makes all the shit storms worth it.”
I couldn’t agree more. Walker wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for all we endured apart for those years. Do I wish we’d had more time together? I’ll always wish that. But, the bitterness is gone now. He’s right. We have four beautiful kids. We’re together. We survived Hell and dug our way out of the ashes on the other side. I’m stronger for it. He’s stronger for it. And together we’re stronger as a unit.
“I’ve always loved you. Even through the pain,” I mutter, drawing designs with my fingertip on his opposite pec.
“Even through the pain,” Ryker mimics.
Time drifts as we lay in our lover’s bubble where nobody can touch us. The sun changes in the sky, filtering in through the bedroom windows. We nap. We cuddle. We simply be together without words. There’s no need for them.
By the time dusk arrives, I wriggle in Ryker’s arms, breaking his fortress of muscles surrounding me so I can sit up.
“You about ready to go to the party?” I ask, massaging his pecs, not giving a crap that my pussy is sitting atop his thickening member.
He holds on to my hips, fingers pressing in. “I’m ready for anything as long as it’s with you.”
“Even if we have to explain to the brothers for the millionth time, about Walker and Lucy?” I tease, winking at him.
When we arrived yesterday at the mother chapter compound, we were greeted with an abundance of club love. There were a few of his fellow brothers that oohed and aahed our twins. Even though, we all know they’re not. Yet, these men were too drunk to care. Because they kept prattling on about it like a bunch of hens. “They have the same eyes. Look at all that hair. They must be fraternal… yadda, yadda, yadda.” At first, I thought it was funny. Ryker never saw the humor. He’s a wee bit overprotective. If it weren’t for me, there would’ve been fists in faces and loads of cussing. Dickcheese would’ve gotten in on it at some point, to defend his brother. Which would’ve lead to more bloodshed, and most likely trips to the hospital. Not what we needed to deal with the day before our wedding. Bribing Ryker with a bathroom handy smoothed it over, and we both got a bit of somethin’ somethin’ outta the deal.
Ryker’s lips pull into a lazy smirk. “Yep, babe. Even if we gotta do that.”
“Without fists.”
“You’re no fun.” He pretends to pout, puppy dog eyes and all. I wiggle my ass on his boner to make him stop. Heat replaces the poutiness in a flash.
“It’s our wedding day. No fighting allowed.”
“They’re havin’ a huge party to celebrate Big’s kid tonight. There are brothers from everywhere here. There’s gonna be fists at some point. Somebody’s gonna say somethin’ wrong. Skulls are gonna get knocked around. It’s bound to happen. We’re bikers.”
“As if that explains everything,” I tease, knowing he’s right. Spending six months day in and out in the presence of bikers, you learn a thing or twenty. I’m not gonna say it’s been hearts and flowers. On the other hand, I have gained a whole new respect for the lifestyle. One, I never thought I’d live.
“It does. You married a biker, you know what you got yourself into.”
“Yep, and I love my big, sexy, biker.” My French manicured nails bite into Ryker’s pecs, cementing my statement.
“Hell fuckin’ yeah, ya do. Now ride me ‘til you come, sweetheart. Then I’ll grab your street clothes from the bike so we can go see our kids and party.” Ryker forces me up with the drive of his hips before he positions himself at my entrance. Lowering onto his shaft, we groan in unison as we merge as one.
“Goddamn, you’re sexy. Love you so fuckin’ much it hurts.” He palms my tits. Rubbing his thumbs across my hard nipples. Milk bubbles to the surface, and he licks his swollen lips in a trance.
“I love you, too.” I breathe.
“Then fuck me, my little Tiger. Wring my dick dry. ‘Cause I’m gonna go insane if you don’t. Need you too fuckin’ much.”
So I do. I ride my man ‘til my legs turn to Jell-O and my brain’s mush. When you love someone, that’s what you do, you give them what they need. And my need to love him whole is almost as strong as my need to breathe. Hopelessly devoted to each other some may say… I won’t deny that and neither will he ‘cause we know we’re meant to be.
The End