Page 51 of Meet Me in Montreal

Vanessa knew what he liked. Knew that sometimes he was good with a straight shot into the depths of her mouth, but more often he’d liked this,this, him gripping his cock himself right at the entrance of her open mouth so he could watch the cum spill into it. He didn’t just like it, he loved it, and she did too, savoring his flavor as she eagerly waited for him to give her more. His body was fucking wracked as he convulsed again and again onto that wicked, welcoming tongue and rubbed the spurting head against those plump lips and her cheek. Finally, when he had nothing left in him and was shivering uncontrollably, she stared up at him. Her lovely face was as dazed as he felt while he cradled it with his other hand, and wiped off the remnants of his release with his thumb.

“Damn,” he breathed, and they laughed softly. Her eyes were shining; she had her forearms balanced on his thighs and her dimples were in full effect. “Damn.”

Vanessa was almost purring. “Glad you liked it.” She rose to her feet, but he caught her by the wrist, carefully grasping the delicate bones under his fingers.

“Where are you going?” he asked, keeping hold.

“To get ready for the day.”

“Yeah, but first.”

“First?”

Their eyes held. She grinned, and those white teeth and dimples had him standing to attention like she hadn’t already brought him to a fantastic release. Santino stood, gripped the belt of her robe in one hand and tugged, hard, until it untied and fell to each side. He gripped the lapels of her robe and dragged her up close to his face for a long, hard, probing kiss.

Santino had known she’d wanted ferocity last night but had been afraid to ask for it. He was prepared to give it to her now. He’d taken it easy on her for that first time, but all bets were off as the storm picked up outside. Powerful wind and rain lashed the windows as he walked a semi-circle around her, put his hand to the small of her back, and shoved her forward toward the couch so that her knees were up against the bottom cushions.

“Get up there,” he said. There was gravel in his voice, his throat, his cock.

Vanessa hesitated. He slapped her ass with a smart, cracking sound. His dick pulsed harder at that noise, so he did it again, then again, while she climbed up and gripped the back of the couch and took it, took it. Obeying his command didn’t earn her a reprieve. He continued, loving the sharp sounds he elicited with each strike on her flesh, loved making that ass shake, only stopping to check the wetness he’d generated in her pussy.

His fingers came back coated. He licked them clean of her nectar, aligned himself with her entrance, then drove in with one brutal thrust.

Fucking glorious.

Her pussy was gushing, sweet and sticky, and everything good in the world was wrapped around his length. No fantasy could compare to this excellence. It was blowing his mind to think he’d gone without this for three years,three years. How had he survived?

He still couldn’t forget the pain of that, and he was suddenly overwhelmed remembering the emotions of that time, feeling it all at once. Three years needing her, three years craving this.

It couldn’t happen again. He was going to make sure she’d never fucking think of leaving him. He’d show her everything she wouldn’t be able to live without.

As if echoing the tumult of his thoughts and the tempest in his body, lightning seized the sky, and everything went white, then darker again. The thunder followed, and clapped loudly outside the tall windows.

Through it all, he fucked her, fucked his love into her, pounded his need inside her. Held onto those hips and pumped, relentless, while she bounced back on him frantically. She chased her high on his dick, which he swore had never been harder with her wetness sliding up and down him. He watched it happen, mind reeling.

Reaching forward, he tethered her to him, wrapping his fingers in the long sable strands of her curls and gathering a tight handful. He anchored himself, planting his cock in her until there was nowhere left to go, pressing forward with such force that she couldn’t move. Fuck,fuck, being this deep in her pussy and being bathed in that hot honey pouring on him was another level of absolute dark delight.

He was balanced now, in control, in a wide stance with his feet firmly planted on the floor, her hair gripped in one hand, her ass immobilized against his hips. She was fully impaled on his swollen cock. He pressed her knees open wider with one of his, loving how she trembled, then began to move again, needing to wring more moans out of her.

“Is it good for you, sweetheart? You’re so good to me. The best. You’re perfect.”

His rasp of his praise drew an answering unsteady moan from her. “It’s too good. Too good.”

Panting, he ran his free hand around her right thigh, up between her legs and found her clit. He pressed it between his thumb and forefinger. Vanessa whimpered as he squeezed and flicked her bud, still thrusting, chasing that glorious high with her. He released a harsh shout as she sobbed, “Santino!” into the back of the couch. And how she throbbed on him, how she pulsed and moaned while she drenched him in that good, good stuff.

“Vanessa,” he groaned, growled, whatever fucking word applied. It wasn’t even a word, it was a sound, one that came from deep inside him, only with her, only for her.

When he’d poured every last drop inside her, coating her with his seed, he remained embedded, hoping something would take root and grow. Then he pressed her into the couch with his body to stop her shivering, holding her down the way she needed it, the way he needed to cover her.

Would this ever stop being so fucking wonderful?

He doubted it.

“Do you love me yet?” he asked, pressing a kiss against her shoulder.

Her muffled sound against the couch was full of amusement. “Check back with me on Saturday.”

Playfully, he bit her shoulder. “My little wifey, so stubborn. You know you do.”

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