Holy. Shit.
King’s weight pins me to the mattress, and the feeling reminds me of him kissing me after our wedding, when I was trapped beneath him on that couch.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I just had sex with King.
I didn’t just enjoy it. I loved it.
He’s…
God, he’s everything I imagined he would be.
So powerful and demanding.
And he ripped my legging like they were paper.
My pussy clenches at the memory, sending a shock through my body as I’m reminded of the fact that King is still buried inside of me.
“Not uh,” King mumbles against my temple. “One is all you get right now. I’m still mad at you.”
My mouth pops open.
Sure, I ran away. But he kidnapped me first.
“Don’t make that face.”
My mouth snaps shut. “I wasn’t…”
King lifts his head to look at me. “You were. And we don’t have time for me to fuck you back into submission.”
“You did not––”
King stops my rant, by smothering my mouth with his.
I shouldn’t like this.
Tingles wind their way to my core, and I squeeze my muscles around him, feeling his still hard cock jump within me.
King shoves his hips forward, sinking in deeper, and I break the kiss to tip my head back.
“Knock it off,” I groan.
So many warring emotions, already inside of me, getting more and more confused from pleasure.
“Knock what off?” He thrusts his hips again, and my traitorous underwear drags across my overly sensitive bundle of nerves again. “Stop making you feel good?” He thrusts again. “Stop making you squirm?”
“King!” I try to scold him, but he keeps moving. Keeps pulling me back closer to that edge.
I can’t let him make me come again.
I need to think straight.
“What, Wife?” He shifts, and then his hand is there. Between us. And he’s pressing his thumb against my clit. “Don’t lie to me, Honey. You can’t tell me you don’t like this.”
“I don’t…” Oh hell. I’m so close.
Blindly, I reach down and try to shove his hand away.
But he’s too strong.
Or I’m too weak.
Or I don’t really want to stop him.
“You want this.” My eyes lift to meet his gaze. “You want me.” His thumb starts to move, swiping back and forth. ‘You want me to make you feel good.” His thumb moves quicker. “Just admit it. Accept it.”
“I don’t want to,” I sob.
He presses harder. “Accept me.” His hips are rocking now, and his cock is just as hard as it was before. “Believe me.”
I want to believe him.
I do believe him.
But what does that mean? Do I just go along with this life? Do I just accept him as my husband?
“Trust me.” King’s voice is as ragged as my breathing.
I press my heels into the mattress, lifting my hips to give him more. To let him take more. And as the first tremors of another orgasm vibrates through me, I realize one thing. My body trusts him even if my mind isn’t sure.
My hands are no longer pushing him away, and instead I hold on tight as I tell him what he needs to hear.
“I do.”
The wet sounds between us are lewd as he plows into me over and over. His fingers never stopping their work on my clit.
And just like the first time, as soon as my orgasm takes over, King follows me over the edge. His pulsing cock inside of me, amplifying my release.
When King pulls out of me, I feel the mess of his double load leaking out of me and soaking into my ruined leggings.
He looks down at me with a smirk. “Til death do we part, Savannah Baby.”
