“Yes, but I want to be your woman. I trust you.”
I touch her clit and thrust again, testing. “You were born to be mine, Jazmina. We fit perfectly.” I’m rambling, not even sure what I’m saying, caught in her web, intoxicated by my wife’s scent and heat.
Each time I enter, she seems more receptive. I’m sweating, tense, trying to make it as painless as possible, but I’ll have a stroke if I don’t fuck her.
“Kiss me,” she asks, as if she senses I can’t wait any longer.
Our mouths devour each other again, and I sink fully into her.
She lets out a sharp cry, wanton, female, and starts rocking softly. I should tell her to wait, but I can’t resist thrusting deep. My balls ache with need.
Her pussy clamps around me, her body lifting to meet mine in sweet torture.
My hips rock against her pelvis, my large frame dominating her delicate silhouette beneath me.
I deepen the penetration, my mouth touching everything within reach—neck, jaw, earlobe, breasts.
It’s not choreographed—it’s liberated desire, wild in its yearning.
For her. With her.
My princess. Wife. My delicious woman.
Her moans grow louder, and I slow the pace at which I fuck her. I’m insane with lust, but I want her to come on my cock.
Minutes pass and our bodies keep seeking each other, insatiable. I no longer know whose moans are whose.
“I think . . .I . . .” Even in delirium, she still feels shy.
“Come for me, Jazmina. Surrender.”
The contractions intensify, squeezing and releasing me until, with one final cry, she comes, soaking me.
I fight to keep a shred of lucidity so I don’t spill inside her. There’s nothing I want more, but I can’t risk it.
Pleasure spreads through every cell of my body. I want to come buried inside my wife, see her sex leaking my seed, but not even for her—for the only woman who’s ever touched my soul—will I risk bringing a child into the world.
My head is fucked. Reason and emotion at war, and I fuck her harder, needing to prove that even denying myself this pleasure, we belong to each other.
“More,” she begs.
My thrusts grow long, almost pulling out completely each time.
I look down between us, and seeing the way our bodies fit is my trigger.
She screams and this time warns me she’s going to come, embarrassment replaced by a desperate need to surrender to pleasure.
With my mind clouded by conflicting thoughts, I pull out and stroke my cock. She’s lost in her own orgasm, while I watch every reaction closely.
I touch her wet sex, spreading the swollen lips from our fucking, and the urge to push back inside her causes physical pain.
Jazmina opens her eyes, and the connection, briefly broken by the separation of our bodies, snaps back with force; I come on her thighs.
I spread my semen over her skin, marking her, claiming her as mine.
I lie down and pull her into my arms. Our breathing hasn’t steadied yet, nor have our hearts, beating wildly out of sync.
We don’t speak. Words are unnecessary.