Page 104 of Mangled Memory
I rock again and again, looking down at my husband, seeing his face somehow for the first time.
“I seem to remember you saying something about our bed and our sex life and you always being in control.” I slide up again, leaving my wetness on his cock and placing him at my entrance, waiting for his response.
“Ceding control is not forfeiting it, Princess.”
“So you’reallowingthis?” The sarcasm in my tone is timed with a pull on his nipple, my fingernails grazing his abs, and me notching him just at the entrance of my heat.
His abs contract as he stares at me, fingers still firmly on myhips, lifting his own and retracting enough that I know he could thrust all the way home and that he’s holding back.
I push onto him, slowly enveloping him inch by thick inch, our groans echoing in chorus, until he’s fully seated. I squeeze him tightly and pull slowly out to the tip before taking my time impaling myself. On my third stroke, he sits up on an ab crunch, spearing me so deeply, I wonder if I’ll ever see sex the same way again.
His eyes bore into mine, and I lean in to kiss him, slow and deep, my hips rocking in time with the thrust of my tongue. He takes over the kiss, looping his arms up my back to rest on my shoulders, grinding me onto his cock as he drives up into me.
I gasp and his tongue invades deeper, just in time to release me to glide up an inch and settle back, taking every damn inch. The invasion, the pressure at my clit, the scrape against my G-spot… the pressure coiling low in me, tightening until the snap could become a break.
“My God, Ayla. You know how to bring me to my knees.”
“Knees later. Cowgirl now.”
A smile breaks across his mouth before ecstasy takes over his features. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I rise and fall again, grinding down on him, as he continues, “The best sex of my life.”
I glide again, squeezing on my way up before dropping down with force. “The only thing I can’t live without.”
His face is deadly serious when I glide up again. In an instant, he’s looped my knees under his elbows, stripping me of all control, and dropping me onto his cock as he thrusts with his hips bottoming out. “Fuuuck.” The word is pulled from his lips as he does it again.
“Need you, baby.”
Another lift and drop.
“Can’t breathe without you.”
Another lift and drop.
I cry out, the tension inside me threatening to burst open. “Christian!”
He lifts me and ever so slowly, sets me on his cock so deep. He rocks and uses me to rock against him.
The tightening is brutal, the impending crash is right there, but just out of reach.
“Love you, my beautiful Ayla.” He thrusts and pulls me closer into him, my clit pressed firm against his pubic bone, and I spiral. He comes at the same time, pulsing heat hitting me just as I tumble over the edge, seeing stars but hearing nothing but the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I collapse into his chest, trying to catch my breath. My legs are still over his arms. I’m at his mercy as he glides in micro-strokes, extending my orgasm.
“Love you, Christian.” In a whisper, I add, “Definitely the best ever.”
His laughter moves his cock still deep inside me, scraping my sensitive spot and drawing a moan from my throat.
“That works out, for both of us.” He kisses the knuckle just above my wedding ring. “Because I’m never letting you go.”
The promise in his words is not a threat. They’re not scary. They’re his vow to me, to us. And, after all I learned today, I couldn’t ask for more.
I wake the next morning to Christian’s cock nestled between my ass cheeks and his fingers playing between my legs. His body stretches long behind me. The bristle of his coarse leg hair scrapes my thighs as he parts my knees, butterflying me wide.
He shifts enough to slide his cock from where he’d placed it and positions himself at my entrance, inch by inch, pressing into me until he’s fully seated.
A warm open mouth kiss hits my shoulder and then the spot beneath my ear that sets me ablaze.
“Good morning, wife,” he says on a slow, measured thrust.
