“I hope you’re not ovulating, as you’ve got me so hard nothing will stop me from making you wholly mine. Not a pill….”Thrust. “Not a wife…”Thrust.“Not a man who had no fucking clue he had a plethora of perfection right under his nose for fourteen fucking years.”Thrust.
I shake as waves crest in my stomach. Yes, waves. There are more than one.
Roy wouldn’t even discuss the possibility of having a child until I was below one hundred and forty pounds. He said the risks were too high and that I needed to be below my goal weight to ensure I could get back to it after carrying his child for nine months.
He made it sound so unappealing that I thought motherhood wasn’t for me.
Nero makes me feel different. He looks like he wants to impregnate me now, and in all honesty, if he asked, I doubt I’d object.
That’s insane to admit, but it is the most honest I’ve ever been.
Fortunately, for the sake of my sanity that will inevitably return once I’m no longer being screwed into oblivion, I’ve taken birth control religiously for fourteen years.
So, for now, this is purely about pleasure and the record number of orgasms Nero is willing to give me. It was five last night. I feel like today’s efforts are going to stretch further than that.
My wild thoughts are proven accurate when Nero withdraws, flips me over, then buries his head back between my legs. “Still hungry. Need another helping.”
15
NERO
Ieat Miranda’s delectable cunt until she screams my name twice and not an ounce of the numerous mistakes Swamp Dick made can be seen in her eyes. Then I step back.
I’m meant to be fucking her confidence to a record-breaking high, not making her bedridden.
Though the thought of her helpless and in bed for a week sounds mighty enticing right now. Miranda’s pussy tastes like heaven. It’s a meal I could eat day in and day out until the day I die, and I’d never complain.
Only a fool would grow tired of perfection.
As I drag a hand across my beard, making sure the wiry strands covering my jaw absorb her scent, I rake my eyes down Miranda’s body.
We were so impatient I’m shocked the only article of clothing left on are my trousers, which are huddled around my ankles.
Other than that, we’re stark naked, and the view is fucking enticing.
She’s so damn beautiful. Her cheeks are flushed, her nipples are standing to attention, and although her pussy lips are red and chafed from my beard sanding the sensitive skin, they’re drizzling with evidence of multiple arousals and make me hard as fuck.
The need to fuck claws at me. I want to take her hard and fast like when she was splayed over her kitchen counter, being pounded so ruefully her tits and ass clapped in euphoria. But for now, I can’t. Miranda needs to see what she does to me. She needs to feel it.
She also needs to get that dweeb out of her head, and I know exactly how to encourage that.
I roll my thumb over her clit, keeping it as firm as my cock, while hooking my ankle around the leg of a chair beneath a nook at the side of the kitchen and dragging it in front of me.
Miranda’s house has an old-school design, with part of the kitchen counter lowered to include a writing nook, but the fixtures and furniture are modern—excluding the piece I’ve selected.
Miranda watches me under hooded lids when I take a seat before notching up my chin, inviting her to join me.
She seems excited—for half a second.
“I’m not sure that chair was designed for two.”
My voice is full of lust when I ask, “Afraid it’ll break?”
When she nods, a smile stretches across my face.
She isn’t distraught at the thought of her furniture being broken.
She’s excited.
