She leaned over the edge of the bed while I watched, pulling her white panties down over her ass and slipping them off to toss to the side.
So far removed from the innocent virgin I’d taken that night in Ibiza, the queen before me crawled up onto the bed and lay on her stomach, raising her ass in the air in invitation. Another night, and I’d fuck that instead since she seemed determined to tempt me.
But I owed her an orgasm, and I’d be damned if she did it anywhere but on my cock.
I crawled over her, wrapping a hand around the front of her throat and driving inside her with a firm press of my hips. Her pussy clenched down on me immediately, finally having exactly what she had desired since the moment when I licked her pussy on the stairs with the apparent risk of someone seeing us.
But I’d never risk that.
I ran my tongue up the back of her neck, tasting everything that made her who she was. Tilting her ass up further for me, she took the hard drives of my cock inside her with sharp moans.
She was impossibly tight like this, with her thighs pressed together, and she fit me like a mold. She tumbled over the edge of her orgasm with a harsh gasp, her fingers grasping the sheets and clawing for purchase.
With her pussy clenching tight around me, I roared out my own release and filled her with my cum. I kept fucking her through it, moving slowly inside her and enjoying the wet glide of her pussy coated in me. It might have seemed redundant since she was already pregnant, but I’d long since decided that I would never tire of seeing her marked with my brand, with my release, with myeverything.
I’d never tire of fucking her. Of seeing her face first thing in the morning or falling asleep with her in my arms.
This was the weakness of love bordering on obsession.