Page 49 of Captive Bride

“Tristan, no, I’m not ready.”

“You’re ready, baby,” I say in hot breaths that make her open to me more.

I finger the walls of her swollen pussy and find her G-spot. She’s clawing at my hair, arms, and shoulders.

I run my lips over her clit, and she begs me to stop.

“Tristan, I just can’t. It’s too much.”

I keep going, knowing her statements are veiled attempts to escape the impossible, my consumption of her.

It takes about two more seconds for her to give in to the furious passion that’s enveloping both of us.

I feel her come before she says it. She cries my name, but her pussy clenches down around my fingers so they can hardly move.

This little virgin is so fucking tight, and I realize what a moment this is.

I’m her first. And her last.

She comes hard, and I take the opportunity to graze my fingers along the walls of her too tight cunt, drawing out the sensations. I kiss her and suck away all of the juices, tasting her essence and dying to know it more.

I need my baby to be nice and wet, wetter than ever before. She needs to be warmed up if she’s going to take in my thick twelve-inch cock. I’m about to deflower her virgin pussy—and trust me, I know what a great responsibility that is.

---