This time, he doesn’t hold back.
He devours me.
Fast. Hard.Filthy.
I buck against him, fisting the sheets, my knees shaking and toes curling.
“Yes, baby,” he groans against my heat. “Soak your husband’s face. Give me the best fucking breakfast ever.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice.
Ecstasy rolls through me.
My body trembles, waves of pleasure shattering through me.
I’m shaking and breathless.
He patiently waits until I’m still before kissing one thigh, then the other.
It’s almost like he’s giving me a worship, a thank-you, for allowing him this gift this morning.
When he lifts his head, our eyes lock.
His gaze is wild and burning with heat.
He shifts, starting to move off my body, but I clamp my thighs tight to hold him in place.
“Nuh-uh, mister,” I whisper, trying to lift my hand to waggle my finger, but I don’t have the muscle strength to actually do it.
A smile pulls at his lips. He kisses my clit gently before sliding up and kneeling between my legs. “This morning was about you.” His voice is raspy and thick with restraint.
My gaze drops to his cock. It’s thick, hard, and slick at the tip with need.
My mouth waters, and I lick my lips. “If it’s about me, then I want my husband inside me.”
“So greedy, my wife.” He brushes his thumb over my clit. “Always wanting her husband’s cock, doesn’t she?”
Electricity bolts up my spine.
I gasp when he shoves three fingers inside me.
He moves them fast and so deep.
“Please,” I cry out.
I drop my eyes from his handsome, tired face to his tight jaw to his bare chest that’s already gleaming with sweat. The muscles tighten under his skin as he moves.
I whimper when he pulls his fingers from my soaked pussy.
He hooks my legs over his shoulders, situates us, and then, with no warning, he slams into me.
“Fuuuck,” he groans, throwing his head back. “So tight. So wet. So fucking perfect.”
With each slam of his cock inside me, my body slips farther up the bed.
The sheets cling to my sweaty skin.
“Play with your tits, baby,” he orders. “Rub those beautiful nipples.”
