Page 25 of Caged Captain

I groan, then chuckle at her eagerness. "Not today, Imogine. I need to stretch you out, baby. But right now, I need inside yourdripping pussy. Can you do that for me? Can you ride my fat fucking cock till we both get what we need?"

“Yes,” she whispers, sitting up on her knees and stroking my thick dick, already weeping for her.

She positions me right at her tight entrance and drops down, taking all of me and making us both cry out.

“Shit, so good,” I groan as she balances herself by placing both hands on my chest.

Imogine lifts herself and swivels her hips, massaging my cock with her silky wet pussy before sliding back down and grinding against me once fully seated. Again and again she takes all of me inside her, each time drawing her closer and closer to another orgasm.

With my finger still deep inside her ass, I begin pumping in and out in time with the way she’s riding me. I add another finger and scissor them to stretch her tight as fuck little hole. Imogine shivers deliciously and clamps down around my fingers and cock.

With my free hand, I reach out and play with her breasts, which are bouncing in front of me. “Love these gorgeous fucking tits, Imogine. Love everything about you.”

She looks away from me as if my compliment is too much. I grip her hips and still her movements before tugging on her wrists, making her fall into my chest. I place one hand on her hip and the other at the back of her neck, forcing her to look at me.

“You’re perfect for me,” I whisper into her lips before I kiss her. I hope she knows that I mean she’s perfect in more ways than one.

Placing my hands on her hips to keep her pinned to me, I grind my swollen cock inside her snug little pussy until I hit her G-spot and her limbs spasm. Again and again, I rub against it until she's shaking and gasping for air.

Imogine rests her forehead on mine and claws at my shoulders as her orgasm rolls through her. She bucks her hips, each wave of her release making it easier for me to slip deeper and deeper inside her.

While she’s still riding her high, I flip us over and pound into that pussy, forcing another orgasm out of her, this one quick and powerful, stealing the air right out of her lungs.

“That’s it. Fuck,” I growl, filling her up and hitting home with each stroke.

Home. That’s what this is. She feels like home.

Her fingers dig into my ribs, ripping me out of my thoughts and forcing me to be here with her in the moment. I crash my lips down on hers, pouring out all the things I can’t seem to express any other way.

Imogine hooks her ankles behind my back and clings to me while I ram my dick in and out of her, needing more, needing every fucking thing she has to give. I thrust harder, harder, harder. Her body tightens, flexes, tenses over and over. Her back arches, her pussy contracts, and her orgasm rips through her like an explosion.

It’s the most exquisite thing, feeling her come from deep inside. I fuck her through it, unable to stop. She falls apart again and again, moaning and writhing in pleasure. It pushes me over the edge. I come in powerful waves, deep inside her tight little pussy. Goddamn, it’s perfect.

I collapse on top of her and immediately roll to the side, pulling her limp body over my chest so I can hold her close. I weave my fingers in her hair and gently lift her head so I can press a kiss to her sweaty temple. She sighs so sweetly as I tuck her head under my chin, rubbing circles on her back. Imogine responds by humming quietly, contentedly, while tracing patterns on my chest and abs.

This is the most blissful moment of my life. I never knew a love like this existed until Imogine came storming into the back room of the bistro. I couldn’t have imagined at that time what our arrangement would lead to, and while I hate the parts of our story that caused my woman pain, I’m forever grateful she’s still here with me.

“I love you,” I murmur, the words rolling off my tongue with ease. She’s easy to love, and I can only hope she feels a fraction of what I feel for her.

“I love you so much, Marco,” Imogine replies, her words slightly slurred.

I grin to myself and allow my heavy eyelids to close. My heart is full, my woman is satisfied, and all is right in the world.

EPILOGUE

IMOGINE

“Vivian! Dexter! Marco! Time for dinner!” I call from the kitchen window.

Marco has our eight-year-old, Vivian, in his arms, twirling her around while she giggles. Our nine-year-old Dexter is digging around in the dirt nearby, looking up when he hears his name. I watch my sweet boy’s face light up, and at first, I think it’s because he’s excited for dinner. Then, he pulls a worm out of the dirt mound in front of him, holding it out for everyone to see.

“Look!” he exclaims, jumping up from his spot and running toward his sister.

Marco sets her down, intercepting Dexter before he can upset Vivian with the wriggly, slimy worm in his hands.

“What do you have there?” Marco asks, kneeling in front of our son.

Vivan hides behind her father, knowing he’ll keep her safe. I love that my husband is so protective of our family. He has been since day one, but as soon as I got a positive pregnancy test nearly ten years ago, he stepped up his game.

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