“And who’s the only one who can make you come?”
He presses against my back, one arm going around me to hold me in place. He wraps my long black hair around his other fist and bends my head back to capture my mouth with his own. By the time he lifts his head again I’m desperate to feel him inside me. “You dammit! So just do it already. I can’t take anymore.”
“Spread your legs wider. I want you completely open to me.” I inch my legs as far apart as I can get them, until I feel the burn in my thighs. Tyson rewards me by bending his knees, lowering just enough to line his cock up until it nudges my entrance. Then he uses the arm wrapped around me to pull me back against him as he thrusts inside.
“Yes,” I pant, swiveling my hips to get him deeper. It’s all the encouragement he needs to set a punishing pace, our skin slapping together each time he drives into my pussy. My butt is already sensitive from his spanking, and the added tingle only drives me higher. “Please.”
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he groans. “I can’t wait to feel your tight pussy milk all of my cum out of me and straight into your womb.”
It drives me crazy when he talks like that. It’s just so raw and carnal, especially when I can feel his pre-cum painting the inside of my pussy. “I’m so close, Tyson.”
He pulls almost all of the way out and drives back in with a grunt. My pussy tightens around him, and my nails dig into the mattress. His hand slips down, his palm rubbing my clit until it feels like stars explode behind my eyes. My orgasm is so strong; I nearly pass out as I scream his name. I can’t breathe or think, I’m completely out of control as I continue to come for what feels like hours. Tyson pounds into me a few more times before roaring with his own climax. He sinks deep inside, holding my hips while he fills me with his cum.
“Whoa,” I pant. My arms feel like limp noodles, so I relax them and face-plant into the mattress. “That isn’t quite how I pictured you punishing me, but I have to admit I liked it. I might have to do something to actually earn it at some point in the future.”
After pulling out of me and cleaning me up, Tyson lifts me into his arms and gets us settled on the bed. “Just so long as it doesn’t involve you being away from me or near any other men, that’s fine by me.”
“Remind me to pencil that into my schedule for soon,” I whisper against his chest as I cuddle him close.
“Consider it done since I want all the open spots on your calendar.”
He doesn’t need to worry. He’s already got them…for the rest of our lives as far as I’m concerned.
Chapter 11
Tyson
I wanted to put a ring on Colette’s finger the night I brought her home, but I didn’t have the right one yet.
The next day, when she left for work, I sent movers to her dad’s house and had everything brought to our home. I had to promise Carson that I’d propose within a week in order for him to let the guys through the door.
They were done now, so I ask Carson if we can speak somewhere private. He leads me into a beautiful office filled with Cherrywood antique furniture and vintage art. “I never thought I’d say this,” he says with a rueful shake of his head, “but you remind me of myself when I met Colette’s mother. We hadn’t known each other more than a month before she was living with me and planning a wedding.” He walks to a bar built into the far wall and grabs two crystal tumblers.
I take a seat on a comfortable leather couch that is situated in a little nook with a large bay window. After a minute, he joins me and hands me a drink before sitting in a matching chair directly across from me.
Leaning back against the cushions, I take a sip of the smooth scotch, enjoying the subtle burn. “Speaking of weddings,” I begin, “you know I have the means to buy Colette any ring she wants.” I want to make sure he knows my request isn’t because I’m lazy or can’t afford a ring. “But I think you and I both know that what would make her happiest is wearing her mother’s ring.”
Carson’s face softens and he cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. “I almost had my Angelique buried with her wedding ring, but a friend reminded me that whether Colette used it or not, it was a keepsake she would treasure. Instead, I had her buried with mine.” He smiles at me and happiness shines through his brown eyes that are so much like Colette’s as he reaches into his pocket. “I was hoping you would ask for this.” He pulls out a little blue box and reaches his arm out for me to take it.