Page 81 of Secrets That Bind Us
I wrap her hair around my wrist. “Got another one for me baby?”
“Yes, Dean, don’t fucking stop.”
“That’s my good fucking girl,” I spank her sweet ass as I plunge deeper into her succulent cunt, thanking every deity out there silently while I wreak havoc on my girl, going feral at the sight of the bounce of her ass on my abs.Thisis what I’ve been missing for years. “So fucking pretty, aren’t you, baby?”thrust“Mygirl.”thrust“Mywoman.”thrust“Myfiancé. The mother ofmychildren.”thrust“Fuck, I love you.”Thrust, thrust, fucking thrust.
“Don’t stop talking, Dean. I'm so close.”
“That’s my girl. That’s it, baby,” I praise through gritted teeth. “Oh, God yes. Come for me baby. Soak my dick. I wanna feel you squeeze around me again. It’s too fucking good. It’s all I want. Gonna fill you up with all my cum, get this sweet pussy pregnant.”
“Oh my - fuck!Dean!” Her pussy clamps around me like a fucking vice, and my hips stutter, unable to hold back anymore.
“Oh, fuck! There you go, baby. Such a good girl. I love you. That’s right. Milk my dick. Oh, fuck. Verity.” I groan her name, gripping tight on her lush hips when my balls draw up, and every fucking ounce of me shoots into her. Black dots blur my vision, but I don't want to close my eyes. I want to be lost in the haze when I’m inside my bride-to-be.
My forever.
I bow over her to release her restraints, moving us quickly so we can lay down. But I don't withdraw. Not yet. I want to keep myself inside of her for a little longer. To stay connected to her. I look about the room, keeping my hand on her hip, rubbing my thumb over the smooth skin.
“What are you thinking about?” She asks.
I shake my head, squeezing where I was rubbing. “That it’s so pretty here,” I chuckle. “I don’t want to mess it up with my crap. It’s so grown up in here.”
She shifts to move, I’m sure to face me, but I don’t want her to, so I move my hand from her hip to her middle and hold her closer, nuzzling into her neck. “I want your stuff here, Dean. I want your Peewee tournament trophies on my shelves. I want your manties in my drawers. I want your uniform hung up in our closet.”
Our.
“Wait. Did you just say mymanties?”
She giggles sleepily. “You know, man panties. Your boxer briefs. Your long johns. Your-”
I laugh with her. “Alright. Alright, I get the idea. I’ll stuff your drawers full of my drawers.”
She giggles again, and my dick jumps at the movement. “Plus, maybe I’ve already gotten rid of a few things in my closet to make space for yours. You know, since you’ve been leaving your clothes here a lot.”
“And Bear?” I ask.
She sighs. “The kids are already attached to him. I just hope he doesn’t eat Clifford.”
“He’s a big baby. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“I know. I love him, too. He never chews my slippers.”
“If he did, I'd buy you more.”
“Dean?” She sighs my name sleepily.
I kiss the back of her head and as close to her temple as I can get. “Yeah, baby?”
“I love you so much. I can't wait to marry you. Don't let me fall asleep on my back, okay?”
“Can I keep my dick in you all night?”
“Mmhmm.” she hums happily, settling deeper into her pillows, and I breathe in her scent, noticing the subtle differences in it. In her. I love them-her- just the same. Probably even more now than ever- and I get to fall in love with her all over again. I let that thought soothe me as I shift around just a bit more.
And let my eyes shut.
Thunder booms outside, pelts of rain hitting the window, and lightning flashing like a warning sign in an empty bed. I clear my throat, get out of bed, and head to the bathroom to relieve myself before going to search for Verity. Our room is empty, so is the living room. I head to the kitchen, but it’s like… it’s like she justleftin the middle of the night. I go back the way I came, stopping between the kitchen and the dining room. There’s a heavy feeling everywhere, almost oppressive, unsettling my stomach. Every hair on the back of my neck stands up on end. I’m about to call out for her, but I hear a creak coming from the top of the stairs and…mumbling.
I try not to think about it, pushing that memory to the back of my mind as a form on the top of the stairs comes together, all in white. But it’s not. Verity’s there. Standing in my shirt. It swallows her. But she looks like she did thirteen years ago. Long mahogany waves, her face young, soft with roundish cheeks. Gone are the angles that age and motherhood have broughton. Her eyes are wide open in panic, and they dart to the side. The low, mumbling hum is still there, but her lips aren’t moving.
