Page 158 of Sinful Sacrifice

“That was so amazing,” I say against his skin.

He smacks my ass once. Twice. Three times.

“You deserve more than that,” he says. “You knew you were going to make me come so fucking hard when you told me to fill you with my cum.”

I hoist myself on my elbow. “Why do you think I did it? To not make you come? My body needed a break because you were about to fuck the life out of me.”

He kisses up my jaw. “Can’t have that, can I, baby?”

I carefully pull off him, and his eyes are pinned to the view of his cum dripping out of me. His cock is coated with our juices. He lowers his hand and strokes me a few times before shoving his fingers inside, as if not wanting to waste anything.

I groan, almost ready for another round at his touch, and sigh in disappointment when it doesn’t stay there long. He rolls to his side and opens the nightstand drawer, collecting something from it.

“Put your left hand on my cock, baby,” he says. “Cover it with our cum.”

I do what he said, his cock hardening again as I do. Once it’s covered, he gestures for me to come closer. He grips my wrist and opens his other hand to reveal a diamond ring.

He doesn’t give me time to see the ring before jerking me closer. My body trembles when he licks down my ring finger and then slides the ring down it. It fits perfectly.

He drags me back onto his lap, careful to adjust me around his cock, and holds my hand up. My jaw drops as I admire the beauty of it. Typical Damien, always loving to spoil me, chose a ring that does just that.

The band is gold and lined with the same diamond pattern as the necklace he gave me before our first date. I smile at the memory. The large pink diamond sparkles with every angle I turn it.

I didn’t even know you could find pink diamonds like this.

“I bought that the same month I met you,” he tells me. “I knew eventually, somehow, you’d become my wife.”

“Are … are you serious?” I stutter.

“You were made for me, Pippa.” His abs clench when he drags himself up so we sit more upright. He waits until our eyes are pinned on each other before going on. “And at this point, I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m telling you, after this, you’re getting your ass dressed, and we’re getting married.”

The sun shines with no interruption from clouds, and traffic is surprisingly tolerable, as if it doesn’t want to give us any problems on our way to commit to each other. All signs for a great day to get married.

Not that the weather or traffic would influence my decision.

I’ve never been one for wedding superstitions.

What’s in the sky, the temperature, or how gorgeous your dress is—those don’t matter. In my eyes, the only indication that you’ll have a good marriage is having a good partner.

Someone you trust.

Who wants the same future as you.

Who’d do absolutely everything in their power to never hurt you.

Because in the end, your looks will alter, the weather will change, and life will throw you hard balls. True love is the only factor in your marriage that can’t change, and our love is too strong to falter. We’ve been through so much together.

On the drive to the city hall, I mentioned his note and told him I loved it.

“You mean my essay,” he replied. “I meant every single word, baby. Every single damn word.”

Tears are in my eyes as I stare at Damien and say, “I do,” when it’s time.

He stands across from me, so handsome in his suit, and repeats, “I do,” so definite and precise.

Two words.

So damn powerful.

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