“Don’t stop,” she begs, her hand clawing at my chest. “I understand.”
“I will never want another woman. Ever.” I resume the manipulation of my fingers and she tightens, the walls of her flexing around my fingers, her g-spot swelling. “There is not another woman who can ever compare to you.” She stiffens, her head dropping back, her neck exposed, and it takes all of my control to stay in place, to keep my fingers’ cadence. I use my other hand and run my palm over her bare breasts, vowing to spend all day tomorrow focused on them, dedicated to my worship of their perfect flesh. Her nipples tighten under my caress, and I bite my lips, the desire to suck them into my mouth almost impossible to resist.
I don’t know how to convince her, how to tell her that what we just shared was a hundred times better than any sexual experience I’ve ever had. I don’t know how to explain that just the sound of her voice awakens my cock more than a hundred threesomes ever could. I don’t know how to tell her that the thought of sharing her twists my gut in the most painful way.
“Do you understand?” I stop her orgasm in the breath before it comes, my fingers wilting, my voice strong enough to cause her eyes to flip open, and she grounds her hips on top of my hand, shamelessly trying to maintain my rhythm.
“Yes,” she gasps. “I understand.”
“Tell me you’ll marry me,” I order. “No buts.”
She purses her lips and the hint of a dimple appears in her cheek. “You’re trying to negotiate marriage over an orgasm?”
I push both fingers into her, cupping them, and watch the blur of her focus. “Yes, Kate. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
She gasps, and her hips lift off me as I increase the speed and depths of my movements, finger-fucking her toward the orgasm she wants, her mouth spreading into a smile as she grabs ahold of my other hand, holding it over her breast, her fingers squeezing mine into a grip, her flesh swelling through our fingers. “Yes,” she whispers, her eyes meeting mine, and I jerk my fingers out of her, my wet hand gripping her hip and pushing her back, my cock hard and waiting, the moment when I push her down on it—
It’s the most beautiful moment of my life.
Her eyes close, and she breathes out my name, her body shuddering around mine, and I pull her to my chest, holding her in place as my hips hammer upward—short, quick strokes that slap my pelvis against her clit and bury my cock into her heat, her inner walls tightening, then flexing, and when she comes, I can feel it rip through her entire body, her cry of my name more animal than human. She screams the word yes, first quick and shrill, then louder and longer, my movements not slowing, not easing, my control shredding as she gives me everything I want.
When I come, it feels as if it lasts a minute, and if she ever stopped coming, I couldn’t tell. I give one last, deep thrust and then hold her against me, my cock twitching as the aftershocks tremble through me.
I close my eyes, and I can’t stop the goofy smile from stretching over my face. I don’t know if she meant the proposal acceptance, but I’ve never been happier in my life.
In this one moment, everything is perfect.
Her
I think he’s dead. He’s stretched out, stark ass naked, his eyes closed, a limp smile on that gorgeous face. His cock is lying across his stomach, and if sucking it will bring him back to life, I’ll be the first volunteer. I smile at the thought and roll off him, pushing to my feet and making my way to the windows, my limbs loose and lazy, my knees almost buckling as I reach up and grip the top of the window.
“I’ll do that,” he mumbles, his head moving, one eye opening to watch me. I bend over and slide the first one closed, and the corner of his mouth lifts up. “Never mind,” he muses. “You do it much better. Especially naked like that.”
“Shut up.” I close the other two and return to him, stepping over his chest and stopping, extending my hand. “Come on. We both need showers.”
“You’re evil,” he groans, his eyes between my legs. “I thought you looked good in my lingerie but fuck.” He drawls out the last word, his eyes shameless in their perusal. “I’d rather you work naked.”
“That won’t work.” I wave my hand impatiently in front of him. “My fiancé is a jealous bastard. He doesn’t like it when other men look at me.”
It’s as if I’ve given him a gift. His eyes lift to my face, and his lips twitch into a new smile, a shy one. “I think he likes it when they look. He just doesn’t like it when they touch.” He finally takes my hand, his legs coming up underneath him, and I lift my chin to look up into his face when he stands.
“Is that so?” I say.
“I wouldn’t blame any man for ever looking at you, Kate,” he says softly. “You’re the most beautiful woman any of us have ever seen.”
“You’re so full of shit.” I smile.