Page 160 of The Alternate Captain
Impatience gets me, so I grab her hips and roll her onto the bed, working my hips to build a rhythm that has her squealing beneath me.
“Do you like that?” I ask, breathing into her neck. “Do you like the way my dick fills that tight little hole?”
“Oh, my—I wasn’t expecting...”
“Shh. Unless you’re begging me for more, I don’t want to hear it,” I say, a wicked grin breaking out across my face.
Her mouth forms the perfect ‘o’ and I wonder if this is too much—until she licks her lips gently and nods her head.
“You’re going to come for me soon, yeah? And I’m going to fill you up, beautiful. I’m going to fill that tight pussy of yours because it’s mine, remember?”
Christ, the dirty talk I’ve been trying to master is flowing now, and it’s getting me hot. I think I’m going to explode really fucking soon.
“It’s yours, Johnny,” she says, moaning beneath me.
And I reach for her clit again, kissing her neck and whispering right into her ear as I adjust my position, so she’s pressed into me.
My hand shifts and I grip her neck, ever so gently.
“Look at me and tell me you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck you like you’re mine.”
Her eyes flutter and she moans, and I try my hardest to keep the rhythm up as I edge closer to paradise.
“I want it, Johnny. I want you to come inside me. Please, come inside me.”
“Yeah, that’s it. You’re taking it so good, baby. You feel fucking incredible—have I told you that? And I want you to come while I’m buried inside of you—while I’m giving you what you want.”
And she cries out, my hand keeping her head aligned with mine so I can look right in her eyes as she comes apart, her pussy tightening around me as she comes. And I feel it. The love between us in such a way that has me spending my load right inside of her.
My favourite place to come.
“Johnny—”
“Hmph.”
“Your phone is still ringing,” she says.
I loosen myself from her and reach for my nightstand, not even bothering to keep the sheets clean at this point.
“Okay—what?” I say, putting my phone to my ear.
“Finally,” Vicky says, exasperated. “John, I need a favour.”
“Is everything okay?” The guilt in my chest turns up a notch.
“Can you come and give me away?”
“Excuse me?”
“Look—Liam and I are getting married. Please don’t tell me I can’t or whatever, but I want you to give me away.”
“When?”
“In an hour.”
Well, fuck me—again.
Part of me wonders if she’s serious, but this is Vicky. She’s impulsive. But I check anyway.
