I do as he said, smoothing my hands over them before tugging on a nipple.
“Fuck yes,” he moans before leaning down to capture one in his mouth.
He sucks hard, like a starved man who didn’t just eat my pussy like a full meal.
Sparks fly through me as my husband fucks me wild.
Deep.
Like we were meant for each other in every way.
Emilio is the only man I’ve ever slept with.
But I can’t imagine anyone else ever making me feel like this.
Only Emilio.
My husband.
The man I was terrified to love.
That I thought would destroy me.
And now, I don’t know if I ever want to live without him.
Stupidly, I verbalize those words when they were supposed to stay in my head.
“God, I love you so fucking much,” I moan, breathless, digging my nails into his arm.
He freezes.
Oh shit.
Immediately, I start trying to correct myself. “I, uh—” My heart thrashes against my chest.
“Did you mean that, or was it only because I’m making your pussy feel good?”
“Uh …” I turn my head to look at the wall.
He grabs my jaw, turns my face back to him, and forces my eyes to meet his.
He stares at me in desperation for the answer.
Like he’s tormented, but he also needs to know.
“Both,” I finally admit, my stomach twisting.
He doesn’t reply.
Just drops my legs, crashes his mouth into mine, and pulls me tighter.
He fucks me slow, then hard, then deep.
Our bodies rub together, this position feeling so intimate.
And when he comes, buried deep inside me, he whispers, “I hope I just put a baby in the woman I’m falling in love with,” in my ear.
I grin, feeling on top of the world.
