Page 55 of Owned In Misty Mountain

We don’t rush.

I strip her out of the wedding dress slow. Reverent.

She’s bare under it.

My groan vibrates between us.

“You did this to me on purpose.”

“You like your presents unwrapped,” she murmurs.

I lift her onto the bed like she’s breakable and climb in after her like I’m not.

I kiss down her chest, suck her nipple into my mouth, drag my tongue down her belly until she’s arching off the bed.

“Mike,” she gasps, thighs trembling.

I spread her open with my hands.

“First,” I mutter, breath hot against her pussy, “I taste my wife.”

And then I don’t speak.

I just eat.

—-

She comes twice before I even get my pants off.

I let her catch her breath, then flip her gently onto her stomach.

She looks back at me, dazed. Glowing.

“Thought you said you’d go slow.”

“I lied.”

—-

I take her from behind.

One hand gripping her hip, the other tangled in her hair, thrusting deep into her soaking, clenching cunt until the bed creaks and she’s gasping my name like a prayer.

“No condom,” I growl.

She pushes back into me. “Don’t you dare.”

I fuck her harder.

“You’re gonna take it all,” I pant. “Every fucking drop. You feel me?”

“Yes—yes—Mike—oh my God—”

“Gonna fill you up,” I rasp. “Watch it leak out after. Then do it all over again.”

She shatters.

I follow, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep inside her as I spill everything I’ve got into my wife.

---