“I can feel you opening for me,” he snarls.
“Yeah, yeah,” I moan. “I can take you, Wayne. I want it.”
He grabs my shoulders and pulls back, then starts to thrust inside of me. I stay as I am for a minute, easing into the motion, feeling his engorged, throbbing head pumping against a spot deep inside of me. It feels sweet and tingly every time he touches it, as though he’s battering against the walls of my orgasm and willing it to come out.
Then I grab the edge of the hot tub with more conviction and start pushing back against him, arching my back and sliding down the length of him in time with his powerful motions.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls. “You look so sexy when you arch your back like that. Fuck, keep doing that, keep twerking that big juicy big ass like that. Yes. What a curvy queen you are.”
His words spur me on and I start pumping my hips, not caring when I hear my ass cheeks slapping together, focusing instead on his carnal groaning and the sound of his manhood grinding up inside of me.
The pulsing and the slap of our bodies giving into each other, the scent of my juices in the air, his lust, all mixes together into a cacophony of euphoric indulgence.
He leans down so that his belly is flat against my back, his pectorals between my shoulder blades. He reaches around and yanks down my bikini top, playing with my breasts, cradling them and pushing them together at the same time.
He rubs my nipples between his thumb and forefingers, snarling in my ear.
“I’m going to drink all the milk you have to offer one day,” he groans. “I’m going to suck on your nipples until they’re red, gulping down every last drop. I need to feel you cream on my cock now, Winter. I need to see your white thick cream all over my shaft. My seed—fuck, fuck, my seed needs to shoot inside of you.”
“I’m—close,” I whimper, my voice catching as we sink into an unstoppable rhythm.
He pommels into me harder, gripping onto my nipples and tugging them softly. The onslaught of sensations is like being in a giant bubble, warmth surging through every part of me, my belly getting tingly as his cock seems to grow inside of me.
I sit back against him, his balls slapping against my clit as he takes me hard.
We’re devouring each other now, pounding our bodies together in a symphony of release.
And then it all pauses, as though we’re standing atop an iceberg that’s suddenly come to a stop.
I realize I’m holding my breath and then let it out in a rush, and the sensations pick up, stampeding through me as my center pulses and I feel my womb sending thick white come down his shaft.
“Oh, oh, oh,” I moan, struggling to form words.
The orgiastic release flows through me, capturing every part of me as Wayne pumps his hips and hammers his massive dick into my tight wet pussy.
I push back, my ass cheeks slapping against his belly, more and more white cream gushing out of me as I turn my head over my shoulder and see that Wayne is close, too.
I can read it in the twist of his lips, in the way his eyebrows shoot upward as though in shock.
“Come in me, Wayne,” I moan. “Please, please, come in my pussy.”
He lets out a primal roar as he pumps into me one last time, grabbing my ass cheeks and staring down at them, his entire being focused on his cock plunged inside of me, filling me with his seed.
I reach back and clutch onto his abs, clawing my fingernails across his skin.
He collapses forward, grunting, heaving in giant breaths as both of our bodies quake and tremble in the aftershocks of our shared pleasure.
“Jesus, that was perfect,” he whispers, sliding out of me but still hugging me close to him.
“That’s funny,” I say, twisting around to find his lips in a brief brushing moment of affection. “I was just thinking the exact same thing.”
We stand up and then I spot it on the decking, a blot of crimson proclaiming my taken virginity. We both look at it and a blush rises on my cheeks, but then we meet each other’s gazes and share a private moment of satisfaction.
He doesn’t need to say it.
I can read it in his eyes.
He’s glad I waited for him.
And I am, too.
Chapter Nine
Wayne
I lean back on the couch with Winter in my arms, smelling the fresh scent of her shampoo and the sweetness of her shower gel, though that does little to mask the tangy, sweet scent of her womb.
She settles against me and I wrap my arms around her belly and pull her as close as two people can physically get – and even that’s not enough – I imagine that my child is already taking root inside of her.
The fire crackles and hisses and outside the snow falls through the night, the security lights illuminating it in stark yellow swirls that turn it into a magical display.
Rusty is asleep on his back, his paws twitching every so often as he sprints through his canine dreams.
“You really love him, don’t you?” Winter murmurs.
I nod, kissing her neck, and then force myself to stop before I lose control like I did back at the hot tub. She triggers something inside of me, an atavistic desire that goes far past pedestrian want.
“I inherited him from my mother six years ago, when he was two. I never thought I’d be much good with dogs. I’ve never had pets. I thought I’d be too busy with my business. But, well, dogs have a way of making you not care about the complications. At least, Rusty did. He’s become a fixture at Comet, following me from my office to boardroom meetings, riding with me wherever I go.”
“That’s so cute,” Winter smiles. “How come your mom didn’t want him anymore?”
“She passed away,” I say.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No, no,” I assure her quickly, smoothing my hand up her body so that I can slide my fingers through her silky golden hair. “It’s okay. It was a sudden heart attack. She didn’t suffer. And my old man… well, I don’t want to unload on you, Winter.”
“Unload on me?” she wriggles so that she’s facing me.
I brace her back to stop her from rolling off the couch, her features even more attractive in the flickering firelight, her cheeks shadowy with her back turned to it.
“Um, I’m pretty sure you have unloaded on me, not to be the grossest person ever. No, seriously, I want you to be able to talk to me, Wayne.”
“I don’t … talk,” I say, laughing grimly. “Not about my feelings, if you can call them that. Or my personal life. But with you, yeah, I should make an exception. You’re right. You’re going to be the mother of my children and I want to be honest with you.”
“That means a lot to me,” she whispers, leaning close and pecking me on the cheek.
It’s a small gesture, but I can tell by the way her eyes twinkle that it means a lot to her, that she had to overcome a lot of inner defenses even to do that.
It makes sense, because she doesn’t have the mind-blotting fuel of our sexual lust to stifle her anxiety.
I know how it feels with her, to completely lose my head, to not even be able to pause long enough to think.
But this warmth, with the fire crackling off behind her, it’s different.
I feel something loosening inside myself, like a bolt screwed tight finally easing open and spinning freely.