Christ, she was perfection.
Every so often she’d dig her heels into my ass as I fucked her, forcing me to bottom out deliciously.
“Harder,” she begged, her head moving restlessly as sweat misted her hairline and the indents between her abdominal muscles. I hadn’t even removed my clothes when she dropped her gown like so much trash, then dared me to take her.
“Woman, you’re going to be the death of me,” I gritted through my teeth, heeding her request and plowing into her ruthlessly.
“One can only hope!” she fired back, spitting mad while eagerly taking my cock and begging for more.
Her athletic form shifted up and down the table with my rough thrusts, but it only seemed to ramp up her desire.
“So close, so damn close… Please, baby,” she mewled, and I about nutted right then and there.
Hearing Dakota, my dream woman, my wife, beg and call me baby took me out of my head and right into the intense pleasure that coiled at the base of my spine and drew up my balls tight. My cock seemed to swell within her in response, but I knew exactly what my girl needed to set her off. I lifted my hand and used my thumb to zero in on the little swollen pearl of nerves just above where I was impaling her beautiful body. I swirled that gem in dizzying circles, adding as much pressure as I believed she could take.
She cried out as I pounded deep and spun circles on that little jewel until her entire body locked me in a vise grip so brutal, I shot off inside her in what felt like a river of ecstasy. I fell forward over her chest, my hips still working away, her legs holding me against her, her arms wrapped around my back. I pressed my face to her sweaty neck and breathed the scent of wildflowers, sunshine, bourbon, and the unmistakable aroma of sex as I rubbed out every last ounce of bliss I could.
Fuckin’ magical.
Once we got our breathing under control, she patted my back in a way that suggested I move off her. I didn’t want to leave her clammy skin, preferring to stay there in our combined filth until we both wanted to go for round two. But we needed to clean up, and there was no way I was showering alone. Still, I feared she’d freak out the second I slipped from her body.
I pushed off the table and eased out of her, hurriedly slipping my wet, softening length back behind my slacks.
Dakota however had no such modesty issues. She sat up, grabbed the bottle of bourbon that had surprisingly not fallen during our table sex, and slammed it back, taking a few long drinks. She wiped her mouth with the back of her arm and handed me the bottle.
I repeated her motions exactly, slugging back a few swallows and passing it to her once more. She set it down and pushed her bare bottom across the table until she could stand.
“Well, that was unexpected,” she stated without a single hint of how she felt about it.
“Not really unexpected, seeing as we just got married. Most people fuck like rabbits on their wedding night.”
She nodded, pursed her lips together, and cocked a brow. “I’m game for that plan. You’re a great lay and it’s been too long.”
I blinked stupidly for a full five seconds, staring at her gorgeous face. Her hair was a wild mess of waves around her face. Those melted-chocolate brown eyes were lit with the light of a thousand suns behind them. Her cheeks were a pretty rose color that perfectly matched her succulent pink nipples. Ones I very much was desperate to put my mouth on again…and again…and again, if she’d let me.
“You gonna stare at my tits all day or fuck me again in the shower?” she asked rather flippantly as she pushed past me and headed toward the master bedroom. “Or maybe you’re a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am type of guy? If that’s the case, I can take care of myself just fine,” she taunted.
“The fuck you will.” I stormed after her. “I’ll be giving all the orgasms this evening, thank you very much.”
I followed her into the bathroom where she’d already turned on the hot water and slipped into the palatial shower. The damn thing was at least ten-foot by ten-foot in size. We needed one of these monstrosities back at the ranch. I had a good imagination, picturing all the ways I could please my wife. If she was into shower sex, I was happy to oblige.
“Is that right?” She smiled, twisted her naked body around, and put her head under the spray .
I watched as the water sluiced over her gentle curves and hard-earned muscles. I never thought myself a man that had a type when it came to women, but I was dead wrong. I had a type. It was her. Dakota. That strawberry-blonde hair that looked like dark honey when wet made me want to grip it in my hand and haul her mouth to mine. Her small, perky handfuls had the prettiest erect nipples that I swore on my left nut were poking out and begging me over to get another taste. And I couldn’t even start thinking about those damn long legs, and slim, muscular arms. She was a woman who could take a hard ride and still ask for more. Which was exactly what she was doing right now.