Page 14 of The Cost of a Bride

The more he pounds me, the more he closes the gap between us. These last two weeks, there has been space between us, but he’s removing that now. His thick arms wrap around me, holding me tight, his palms gripping me, kneading the flesh of my bottom as his manhood drills into my core.

“I could do this forever,” he whispers, kissing up my neck as I breathe his scent into my lungs. The intensity is growing inside me. This man is absolute magic, and I’m caught up in his spell.

“I’m yours whenever you want me,” I moan, suddenly aware of the sheer size of his cock inside me. I’m starting to clamp down on him. I’m close. I’m right at the brink now.

“Christ, that tight, wet hole,” he growls, thrusting deeper, harder, with longer and more deliberate strokes. “You’re so warm and so goddamn good, baby. I can barely even hold out when I’m inside you.”

Everything in me lights up when I hear this. It’s like an ignition for fireworks about to be sent up into the sky. And the very next second, his fingers thread through my hair and clench, and he tugs my head back, exposing my neck like he’s about to bite me into me like some kind of savage monster. But instead, he kisses me quickly, passionately, as his cock begins to swell within me.

I’m right there, and so is he.

“Take that cock, you gorgeous little slut,” he growls. His words shock me, and I gasp and go hot all over. “But you’re not a little slut anymore, are you? You don’t dance for those men, do you?”

“No!” I moan, grabbing tighter on to his neck and back, digging my fingers into his muscles.

“You’remineand only mine, aren’t you?” The possessiveness in his tone is such a massive fucking turn-on. I had no idea I would be okay with him talking to me like this. But he knew.

“Yes!”

“Say it,” he says, grabbing my neck with his other hand with just enough pressure to make me feel like I’m being chained up.

“I’m yours,” I reply, my climax rapidly approaching, every nerve in my body tingling, my skin hot like I’m lying out in the midday sun.

“Louder!” he growls, tightening his grip, pounding me harder. I can hear the sound of the couch banging against the floor with every single one of his strokes.

“I’m yours, Russell!” I cry out as my orgasm hits me. “Fuck!”

We come together. His cock flexes, and I feel a hot, sticky spray let loose inside me as my climax rocks my body and sends me into convulsions. It’s all I can do to hold on to him for dear life as he sinks his manhood into me as deep as it will go and does what a man is supposed to do to a woman he wants.

He’s breeding me.

That’s all I can think as his cock pulses inside me. I’m not on birth control. He doesn’t have a condom on. There’s a good chance I could get pregnant from this, and I’m okay with that. I’m completely fine with it.

8

Nikki

To makeup for the way things went on our first night together after wedid the deed, Russell took me back to his house, and we spent the night together. It was wonderful. We cuddled, woke up at some point during the middle of the night, and did it again. We fell asleep together, then woke up again in the morning and did it again like a couple of animals in heat, unable to keep our hands off each other. Then we got up, showered, and made breakfast.

As it turns out, Russell isn’t the world’s greatest chef, but he can make fruit salad, tea, and toast, so he handled that and was my sous-chef while I made pancakes and eggs and cooked the sausage. Being raised by a single dad who gambles and drinks too much basically means you either learn to cook for yourself, eat cereal your whole life, or starve. I chose to learn to cook.

I tried to do the dishes with him, but he wouldn’t let me. His exact words for telling me to take a seat while he did all the work were, “My mom always said whoever didn’t cook cleaned. And all I did was chop some fruit, heat some water, and toast some bread.”

“You looked incredibly handsome too.” I smiled, but I did as I was told and sat there at the table, sipping a cranberry seltzer while I watched him do the dishes and place them in the drying rack. It was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen a man do.

After that, I thought he’d be taking me home because he had work to get done, but I was wrong. He told me to get in the car because he had something already planned for us to go and do together.

Excited, I did just as I was told, and he drove us over to my apartment where, under his instructions, I picked up a bikini, some suntan lotion, and a beach towel. I got back in his car, but after that, he refused to tell me where we were headed or what we were doing.

“Come on, Russell,” I say, as he drives, an amused smirk on his face. “Where are you taking me? Florida?”

“Could be.” He shrugs. He’s delighting in messing with me, and I’m kind of finding it funny.

“Well, I hope you have a bunch of money ready to spend for when we get there. Because I don’t have any more clothes than what I’m wearing.”

“That’s all right with me.” He grins. “You can just stay in our hotel room as my personal sex slave. You won’t need any clothes for that.”

Again, I give him a light punch on the arm, which causes him to chuckle. “Jerk!”

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