Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1) - Page 86

“Suck it.”

“It’s big,” I said, wanting to fight him because it was all we’d ever done.

He smirked. “I know. Now open those pouty lips and suck my dick like a good girl.”

My pussy flooded at his words, and I blushed at being so turned on by his graphic dirty talk. But I did as told, wanting to make him as desperate as me. Opening my mouth as wide as I could and still holding his stare, I sank down his length. He stretched my jaw and prodded at the back of my throat. I swirled my tongue on the underside and sucked my way back up, flicking at the slit again.

“Fuck, yeah. That’s it.”

I continued to bob up and down, losing myself in the motion, enjoying the ache in my jaw, the sting of tears when he pushed too far.

“Do you know how many times I’ve jacked off to the thought of filling your mouth? How many times I’ve come to the thought of you choking on my cum as it spills from your pink lips?”

I struggled to shake my head.

“Almost every morning. I alternate between all the ways I want to watch you take my cum. Over and over again. I’m going to mark you, Verana. I’ll fill you with all I have, come where I want on you. I’ll make you mine.”

I should have been offended. The words were exactly what had me pushing back so hard before, making me feel like I didn’t have a choice. But I did. He’d proven it time and time again, and now that I’d made my choice to be with him, I wanted him to make all the rest. I wanted him to mark me and claim me. I wanted him to sneak off to dark corners to fuck me. I wanted him to take me wherever he wanted.

I’d already made my choice.

I wanted to be his.

I hummed, rolling his balls in my hand, and he jerked me back.

“But we’ll save that for later. For now, I want to be inside you again.”

With that, he yanked me up and tore my panties from me, shoving off the remnants of my dress while I did the same to his clothes. I leaned back on my hands, the table like ice on my heated skin. He parted my legs and rubbed both thumbs along my folds, parting them like he wanted to see every inch, dragging his fingers through the wetness.

“So pretty and pink. So hot.” Sliding a finger inside me and rolling his thumb along my clit, he met my eyes. “Can I cum inside you?”

I felt less nervous when he’d suggested we get married. I’d never let a man fuck me without a condom. I was on the pill, and we were both clean, but it was new and personal.

And I wanted it more than anything. The thought of feeling him raw inside me, skin against skin, of having his cum spill inside my pussy only to watch it leak out had a shiver chasing its way through my body.

“Please,” I begged.

He swiped his palm through my folds and coated his cock, lifting the head to play at my folds before pushing in roughly. I watched his fat head force its way inside me, loving the sting of being stretched so quickly, and all I could think was that I wanted more.

“More,” I pleaded. “Harder.”

His eyes glinted, and he leaned in against my lips. “Dirty girl.”

I opened my lips for a smart remark, but it vanished on a gasp when he shoved in all the way. Holding me tight, my nipples abrading against his chest, he fucked me. For a moment, I wondered if the night sky carried our animalistic noises across the water to other boats, and I hoped it did.

I hoped everyone knew that he was mine, and I was his.

“Goddamn. I thought I remembered how tight your little pussy is, but I was wrong. So much tighter. You squeeze my cock perfectly.”

“You’re so big,” I whimpered. It sounded cliché, but it was true. “So good.”

“So fucking hot. I’m never going in this cunt again with a condom. I can’t go back. I never knew it could be so hot.”

“You’ve never…?”

He slowed his pace and slid his hand along my cheek, making sure I could read his sincerity. “Only you.”

I pressed a kiss to his palm. “Only you, too.”

A moment stretched where he stilled, and we eyed each other. The weight of the words almost heavier than the I do’s we said at our wedding. As if a band holding us back snapped, we crashed together at the same time, our mouths and tongues dueling. He fucked me harder and harder, racing to our finish.

I cried out when he pulled out, but before I could object, he flipped me around, my hips digging into the table as he shoved back inside me from behind. His hand dove into my hair and held me upright.

Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance
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