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Prologue
Jamison
“One more,” I growled as I shoved my tongue into my wife’s tight channel. She cried out, and I licked my way up to her clit, sucking it hard as I filled her with my fingers. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d taken her over the two weeks since we’d been married, but each time, she was every bit as tight as when I popped her cherry on our wedding night. “Give me one more, peaches.” I’d already wrung one orgasm out of her, but I was determined to get another. I wanted Hazel’s cervix to be soft and her womb primed to take my seed when I finally sank my cock deep inside her.
In the next second, Hazel’s hands dove into my hair and held on tight as she shouted my name while wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. I kept eating until the pulsing in her pussy began to dissipate, then I placed a soft kiss on her mound. I would never get enough of her taste; like peaches and cream.
She was panting, the movement bouncing her perky C-cups and making my mouth water to nibble on their hard, little tips. My hands dragged along her body as I moved up and over her. I was a few inches over six feet tall. At just barely five feet, she was tiny compared to me. My muscular body dwarfed her delicate one, and it made me feel even more protective, adding fuel to my already out of control obsession with my wife.
But, despite her slight frame, my girl was strong and could take everything I gave her in bed. I’d been afraid of hurting her at first, but on our wedding night, I’d lost myself to my mating instincts and ended up fucking her like a caveman. Afterwards, I’d mentally beat the shit out of myself for losing control and more than likely, scaring the crap out of my sweet, young wife. I’d done my best to hide the possessive, jealous beast raging inside me since we’d met. But when I finally claimed her, he refused to be contained any longer.
To my surprise, Hazel had clutched my ass, bucked her hips while kissing my neck, and asked, “Can we do that again?” Ever since then, she’d taken everything I had to give her; quickly losing her inhibitions and becoming a fucking tigress in bed.
Hazel gazed up at me with deep green eyes that were clouded with passion. “More,” she whispered as she circled her legs around my waist.
“You want my cock, peaches?” I purred as I rubbed my thick shaft between her soaking wet folds.
“Yesss,” she hissed as her muscles tightened.
I positioned my fat, swollen head at her entrance and circled my hips twice before I slammed my bare cock into her unprotected pussy.
We had two and a half more months before our honeymoon would be over, and I was determined to breed my little wife before reality intruded. Now that we were married, she was bound to discover just how deep my obsession with her went. I was fucking crazy over her, and I wasn’t ever letting her go. She was finally wearing my ring, but I wanted her tied to me in every way possible.
Chapter One
Jamison
Hazel looked like a fucking goddess in a gold, strapless gown, with her hair curled on top of her head, and her features slightly enhanced by her subtle makeup. And it was pissing me the fuck off. If another asshole leered at her tits, I was going to ruin everything when I killed him.
My sweet girl was awed by the life we led, and I didn’t want to burst Cinderella’s bubble. She’d grown up in a small town in upstate New York. Her family owned an orchard, and I’d met her on my way to a meeting in Ithaca. I’d stopped by a roadside stand to buy some fruit, and she’d floated over to help me. She’d lifted her cherub face and smiled at me with her rosebud mouth, her green eyes twinkling, and the world had fallen away. I’d felt as though the ground had disappeared beneath my feet.
Like a fucking idiot, I’d simply stood there and stared at her. Her plump cheeks had turned pink, and she glanced down as she brushed long strands of coppery hair behind her shoulder.
She was young. Too young for me. She was wearing a pink headband with a checkered bow for fuck’s sake.
“How old are you?” I asked. Then I silently berated myself, not only because those were the first damn words I’d ever spoken to her, but because my instantaneous, raging attraction had caused me to be rock hard and uncomfortable. Which meant the words came out a little too harsh.
She’d blushed harder and dug the toe of her pink canvas tennis shoe into the dirt. “Um, eighteen,” she mumbled. “My birthday was yesterday.”
