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“I’m your wife.”
“What’s your name?”
“Henrietta Malik,” I cry, feeling my pussy getting wetter and wetter in response to his thrusts.
“Who am I?” he snarls.
“My husband.”
“Damn right, I am. Today, tomorrow, forever.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I bite my lip to stifle the sounds of my whimpers and cries as a second, slightly less powerful orgasm has me arching my back and pushing myself onto his cock.
“That’s it, Etta. Look at you taking my cock so fucking perfectly,” he praises, his tone softening now that he’s content that I understand my role in his life.
“Oh god,” I whine, feeling arousal drip down my thighs. He doesn’t slow his pace, or reduce the intensity that he’s slamming into me, but his hold on me relaxes, and his fingers on my hip and the back of my neck become gentle, like he’s caressing me instead of holding me down.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me. Your greedy little cunt was made for me—made to take my dick and be filled with my cum. You were made to be bred by me, weren’t you, Little One? You were made to be full of my baby. Ask me for it, Etta, ask me,” he purrs.
“Fuck me, Oz, fill me with your cum.”
“Tell me what you want me to do, baby.”
“Breed me, fuck me until I’m pregnant with your baby,” I blurt on a rush, embarrassment and white-hot need combining together as a third orgasm incinerates me from the inside out, obliterating the past and replacing everything with the here and now. Where it’s me and him, victim and tormentor, predator and prey, husband and wife.
12
OZ
My balls draw up, and a guttural growl bursts through my gritted teeth as hot, pulsing cum bursts from the head of my dick in stomach clenching jerks that flood her cunt with my cum.
I hadn’t planned to push my new wife to her belly over the edge of our bed and rut into her like an animal the first time we consummated our vows. But when she suggested we get our marriage annulled, I saw red, and my body took over, claiming her like a fucking caveman.
No matter what she wants, I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d never give her a divorce. I won’t. She’s mine for the rest of our lives, and if I have to spend every day from now until the rest of eternity reminding her why she belongs to me, then I’ll happily do it because me and her are it. We’re endgame, a sea of kids and grandkids, a white picket fence, and happily ever after.
I won’t accept any other alternative, because she’s mine.
Before her, I’d never felt possessive or territorial over a woman. Maybe that’s the difference her being my woman makes. Maybe I never cared about anyone else because my body recognized her as my mate, the other half of my soul, and now it’s an instinctual need to protect and covet her.
Whatever it is, she needs to understand that I’m it for her too.
My cock jerks one last time, and I exhale a shaky breath and feel my tense muscles relax. Beneath me, Etta’s body shudders as aftershocks of pleasure trickle through her.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice rough.
“I think so,” she whimpers with an exhausted sigh.
“That wasn’t exactly what I had planned,” I admit.
“What did you have planned?”
“I’ll show you later,” I say, leaning down and pressing a hot kiss against her nape. Reluctantly sliding my dick from inside of her, I flip her to her back, then push two fingers into her sex, keeping as much of my cum inside of her as I can.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her wide, shell-shocked eyes staring up at me with so much emotion swimming in her depths that I have to swallow past the lump that forms in my throat.
“Keeping me inside of you. I ordered you a plug, but it won’t get here for a couple of days.”
“A plug?” she rasps.
