I’m drunk on his kisses and his presence. And that ring. But yeah, it feels too good to be true. I’m struggling to believe it. “You really want to be married?”
I thought men avoided marriage, tried to not get trapped.
He cups my jaw, stroking my cheek with his thumb.
“Given your parents’ story, I thought this would be important. I’m showing you in the best way I can think of, that I’m in this. You’re it for me. I didn’t spend weeks of my life obsessing over getting you into my life and bed to walk away afterwards. When we met, your soul tugged on a thread to mine I hadn’t ever seen. That thread reeled me to you, and I’ll never let you go. I love you.”
He feels that too? My heart bursts.
“If you didn’t want to be mine, you shouldn’t have run and made me chase you. You should have said no. It’s too late now, I’m keeping you.” He grins wolfishly. “And that means that we’ll be married today.”
I gape. I didn’t believe him when he said I was his, but he’s serious. All my doubts melt, insubstantial as rice paper.
“I love you,” I whisper back. And it feels momentous to confess that, and also enough. I trust him. I did last night when he rescued me, and when we played chase. When he caught me. “We don’t have to get married, so long as we’re together.”
This thing that’s been part of my dreams I suddenly have clarity about. Marriage wasn’t what was missing for my mother. Love was. All that matters is my being with Marco, and that we love each other.
A smile as warm as a waft of vanilla from an oven spreads across Marco’s face.
“I want to. I want you to be mine, permanently, and everyone to know. And I want you to know you are mine, with no doubt whatsoever.”
There are no words to do justice to this moment, so instead I crawl across the short distance of seat and snuggle into his lap, my thighs over his. He tightens his arms around me, pulling me flush to him, the hard length of his cock pressing into my lower belly. Heat unfurls, bright and pleasurable.
He wants me.
And I want him, so what exactly am I waiting for? A divine sign of approval?
Who needs god if Marco will call me his good girl.
“Marco, I can’t wait for marriage. Please. Now.” I have to have him inside me, filling me.
I’m grasping at his belt before I can think through what I’m doing. It’s no easier this time, apparently once is not enough to make me less fumbly, but I realise I have a bigger issue. My shorts.
Marco, my husband-to-be and absolute trooper, doesn’t hesitate. He releases his cock without another word as I stand on wobbly legs. The movement of the limo threatens to unbalance me and so do my weak knees.
He reaches out a hand to steady me as we round a corner, at the same time he strokes his cock with the other and I’m hopelessly distracted by the sight of his big hand on his cock as I strip off the shorts, and the knickers we bought too, shimmying them down my legs.
“And your top.” His voice is uncompromising.
I obey, and unclip my new bra too, tossing it aside and kneeling over his lap.
“I need you,” I say around his kiss as he drags me closer and devours my lips. My knees dig into the seat and I writhe against the solid presence of my fiancé.
“Go on then,” he murmurs between kissing down my neck, making his way to my breasts where he moans as he sucks first one nipple then the other into his mouth. “Use me. Fuck me. Make me come right up against your womb and breed you. You want that too, right?”
I nod desperately. Yes. Yes, that as well. Having a baby always felt further away than the moon, but with him? Yes.
“Take everything you need. I’m yours.” He holds his cock in one hand and my squishy hip in the other and lines us up.
I lower myself, my dripping folds coming up against the immovable hardness of his erection. Already it a feeling of completeness. My pussy throbs. My clit, I dunno how, but I swear it bounces like an overexcited creature with its own will.
Bearing down is sweet torture. It’s pressure and stretch and I hiss at the burn as I take his first inch.
“Yes. You’re so brave, I know that hurts,” he murmurs, his voice low and gruff. “Now more, because you feel like heaven to me.”
He said to take him, but of course he’s still in control of this, encouraging me as I slip another inch onto his cock. I’d think it wasn’t possible, that we won’t fit, but Marco doesn’t leave any more room for that anxiety than he does space in my stretched-out pussy. There’s no fear left anywhere. He has chased it all away with his love and his amazing big body.
The next inch is easier, so I slip down another, my thigh muscles creaking with the effort. The next is more difficult again, but now instead of holding still, Marco is thrusting from below. And each slow retreat takes him deeper as he slides back into me. So devious, my husband-to-be. He takes what he wants without asking.
And what he wants is—and this shocks the hell out of me, even after his declarations—me.
I try the same trick as him, rising up and lowering myself harder, trying to get him deeper.
“That’s it, you’re so good.” He’s holding me with both hands now, no need for his guidance to keep us together. “You’re taking me perfectly. My good girl.”
His praise lights me up. The reassurance that I’m doing this right, combined with the delicious hardness of him stretching me open is magic.
It takes several careful thrusts, working him into me, until he’s sliding all the way with no friction. He’s so deep I can feel him up to my belly button. I swear he rearranged all my internal organs for that massive cock of his. How do I even have room? He’s filled a gap I didn’t even know existed.
It wasn’t there, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t have stretched me out. It was a gap that he had to prise open to reveal, a void of loneliness that is now full of him. Stuffed. And soon he’ll spill wet heat into me, seed that will bind us together even more. Joining with Marco like this chases away the last tiny vestige of loneliness.
We’re both moving faster now, getting savage and needy. He’s gripping my hips to slam me down onto his cock and I’m holding his shoulders, supporting myself as best I can to meet the thrusts he’s filling me with from below. He’s a force of nature. A hurricane and I want all of him. Daily. Forget an apple to keep the doctor away, or a balanced diet, I’m having sex with Marco. His cock inside me is all the sustenance I need. There’s no discomfort now. The feel of his cock sliding on my inner walls is fogging my mind.
He plunges his hand into my hair even as he slides his hold to my bottom, digging his fingers in so hard it might bruise. I don’t care. I want his marks on me. He’s so confident, I love it. I’m his to do with as he wishes, and he wants to fuck me. Spill inside me. Breed me, he said.
“Look.”
I can’t. I’m almost cross-eyed with pleasure.
He snarls at my disobedience and thrusts up, hard. I cry out at how deep and good he feels.
“Look,” he orders again.
I follow his gaze to between our bodies. His cock is glistening with my arousal, stark skin surrounded by dark fabric. I’ve creamed all over him and it’s obscenely hot against that pristine suit.
“See how well you’re taking my fat cock?”
His cock disappears into me as I feel him thrust, and somehow seeing that at the same time as the pleasure spreads out from where I’m taking him makes this all the hotter. I thought nothing could feel as good as him inside me, but I was totally wrong. The sight of him sliding between my legs is better, spiking arousal that makes my clit pulse.
“Such a good fucking girl.” He reaches between us and his thumb finds that bundle of nerves that respond better to his touch than anything else. I meet his gaze and it’s implacable. “Now, cara,” he says in a stern voice. “Come on my cock.”
