Page 33 of Claimed By River

I laugh, pressing a deep kiss on his lips.

He pulls back and brushes a thumb across my cheek. “So, I have one question.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

“Now that we’re actually married for real…” His grin grows. “Would you let me take you on a proper first date?”

I burst out laughing. “We’re doing everything backward.”

“I noticed. We even got married before dating.”

I raise my brows, and my voice drops. “Since we’re doing it all backward, why don’t we seal the deal with a thorough fucking before our date?” I whisper against his ear despite my burning cheeks.

River doesn’t hesitate. He grins, and we walk hand in hand, anticipation singing in my veins.

I pull him into the bathroom and kick the door shut behind us, already reaching for his belt. The bathroom’s tiny, but it’ll work for what we need.

River catches my wrists, stilling my frantic movements with a gentle pressure that somehow feels more controlling than if he’d pinned me hard.

“Slow,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that register that makes my knees weak. “Let me look at my wife.”

He backs me against the sink, big hands sliding up my ribs, and I shiver at the possessiveness in his touch. His thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts through my shirt, teasing, testing, until I’m arching into him with a whimper.

“So impatient.” He grins, wicked and knowing.

“Yes, Daddy.” I breathe it this time, letting him hear what he does to me. “Please touch me.”

His eyes go dark. He pulls my shirt over my head in one smooth motion, then my bra, and I’m bare for him in the bright bathroom light. He steps back just enough to look, and I feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch while he slowly undresses himself.

“Perfect.” He cups my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they tighten into aching peaks. “These are mine now. Every part of you.”

He bends and takes one into his mouth, sucking hard, and I cry out, my hands flying to his hair to hold him there. He lavishes attention on them, licking and biting and sucking until I’m squirming against the counter, my hips seeking friction he won’t give me yet.

“Please,” I pant. “I n-need—”

“I know what you need.” He grabs the math mat, tosses it at my feet, and drops to his knees on top of it. Something about that—that he thought about it, that he thinks about everything—makes my throat close. He hooks his fingers in my waistband and strips me bare with methodical precision, spreading my thighs with his big hands. “Look at this pretty pussy. So wet for me already.”

He strokes me, one long pass through my folds that makes me jolt. Not enough pressure to get me off, just enough to make me ache. He does it again, and again, teasing me open with patient fingers while I grip the edge of the sink and try not to scream.

“Who does this belong to?” he asks, two fingers sliding inside me, curling to find that spot that makes my vision blur.

“You, Daddy. Only you.”

“That’s right.” He stands abruptly, lifting me like I weigh nothing, and I wrap my legs around his waist out of instinct. “Hold on to me.”

He carries me the two steps to the wall and pins me there, positions himself, and thrusts up, filling me in one stroke. The cold tile against my spine, the heat of him inside me, the sheer overwhelming sensation of being taken like this. I can’t think. I can only feel.

“Fuck,” he groans against my neck. “So tight. So perfect. You feel that? Feel how you fit me?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He starts to move, deep, punishing thrusts that drive me up the wall with every stroke. I cling to his shoulders, nails digging in, my head falling back as he finds a rhythm that destroys me. The pressure builds fast, too fast, a wildfire racing through my veins instead of blood.

“Come for me,” he growls, his hand finding my clit, rubbing tight circles. “I want to feel you come on my cock, Nadia. Give it to me.”

The orgasm tears through me, molten and merciless, ripping a scream out of my throat as I clench around him. He doesn’t stop, keeps fucking me through it, drawing out every pulse until I’m trembling and spent.

Before I can catch my breath, he’s moving, carrying me into the shower with him still buried inside me. He reaches out and turns the water on, warm spray cascading over us both, and finally pulls out. I whimper at the loss.