Page 99 of When Hearts Surrender

I can’t get enough of her. I grapple with her gown and her hands tear the shirt from my body. Zippers are wrenched down, clothing tears, buttons ping off the hardwood floors, but we don’t care.

It’s madness, a cyclone overtaking our bodies, our souls, our minds.

She moans, the sound a direct caress to my hard cock, already thick and swollen, dripping at the tip for her.

“Maxwell, please,” she cries as I bite her neck, my teeth scoring the tender flesh before laving it with my tongue.

I rip off her lacy bra and panties, not caring if I’m ruining them, and palm her breasts—perfect handfuls, the smooth globes swelling in my hands. My mouth moves down her body, kissing, biting everywhere I can reach, and she thrashes in my hold, gyrating her hips up and down my torso, rubbing her soft, delicious body over my cock.

“Fuck, Belle,” I groan and bite my lip. “Keep moving that pussy over my cock. Feel it dripping for you, unable to help itself. That’s what you do to me.”

She whimpers when I tug her nipple into my mouth, and my tongue laves circles and flicks at the tip. So fucking sweet and hot, my little muse.

My cock spasms as a spurt of cum leaks and I haul her up my body, wrapping her legs behind me.

“Fuck me, Maxwell. Please, I need to come,” she moans as she presses my face to her tits, her hips humping my cock, each movement causing the tip to glide into her slick folds and my balls grow heavy and taut.

I throw her on my bed. “Spread your legs, little muse. I’ve craved you for so long and now I’m going to feast.”

She whimpers and throws her head back, her thighs spread, and I dive in and taste her sweetness at the source, my lips closing around her swollen clit. She screams.

“Look at this pretty little pussy,” I slide my finger between her folds until it reaches her clit, “so tight and fucking wet…all for me, Belle?”

“Yes,” she thrashes on the bed, her breathing coming out in quick pants, “only for you.”

“Mine.” I thrust two fingers inside her tight channel.Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Maxwell!” she cries, her hips arching up and away, but I pin her in place as I finger fuck her in earnest, the sounds of her wet pussy swallowing my digits lewd in the room.

I circle her swollen clit and feel her inner walls clench my fingers. “You want to come, little muse? Come all over your husband’s fingers?”

“Yes, please. I need to come!”

I stop my movement and she cries out in frustration, “No!”

“Too bad, because I need you to come around my cock and milk all my cum out of me. Every single drop, because,” I line up the tip at her entrance, watching in fascination her juices seeping out of her pussy, “because I’m going to breed you again. And again. And get your womb full of my seed.”

The image of her pregnant sears into my mind. It hasn’t happened yet, but I’ll be damned if I don’t make it my duty to put a baby inside her. It’s something that hasn’t turned me on before until her. And now, my cock hardens, about to burst. I want to make her mine, create children with her.

I want everything with her.

My pulse roars in my ears. In this moment, I can only focus on her, on claiming my wife, my muse, of making her mine forever so we’ll never be apart.

In one harsh thrust, I slam into the hilt and a guttural groan rips from my mouth.

Home. I’m home.

“Maxwell!” she screams, her muscles tightening, her legs trembling, her back bowing to my movements.

Thrust after thrust we become one and I link my fingers with hers as a fire runs down my spine and spreads to my extremities, building, coalescing into a breaking point like I’ve never known before. This intimacy is so startling and earth shattering, I can barely breathe.

“You’re mine, Belle. Tell me you’re mine.” My hips snap against hers, my vision darkening at the edges as I climb toward the pinnacle.

“I’m yours,” she moans, “only ever yours.”

And I’ve only ever been yours too.

Her body starts spasming and I feel her walls tightening, gripping my cock, and I know she’s close.

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