“You just did to my clit what you did to that cherry the day we met.” She was panting.
My face split into a grin. “Is it in a knot?”
“Then let me untie it for you.”
I walked over to the door where our suitcase and the cooler bag were and pulled out the container and the pewter scoop. It was engraved with Tommy and Tia Ferrano, and today’s date. I showed her.
Her face lit up. “An ice cream scoop for all time. We’ll make so many sundaes with that. For us, our kids, our grandkids.”
“Fuck yeah. A long life together with lots of ice cream sundaes to look forward to.”
“Yeah. And Sunday breakfasts. And fishing trips. And sexy games.”
“Sexy games?” I lifted a brow.
She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded slowly. “Sexy games.”
“Right now, how about a sexy sundae?”
She nodded with a big smile.
I opened the container and scooped out some and put it right on her mound. It immediately started to slide down her hot body. I caught it with my tongue as it slid between her pussy lips.
She let out a husky sound and squeezed her ass cheeks tight. I put my fingers between them and opened her wider, chasing the melting ice cream as it slid down toward her asshole. I caught it and licked hard, pulling the clump of ice cream back up to her pussy.
She started squirming again, gasping, pulling at my hair, on the cusp of another orgasm.
I threw my zipper down and undressed and then pulled the bar high, getting my head under and wearing it over my neck. Her eyes were wide. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly. The bar rested on the back of my neck with her underwear. Her legs were up high. My cock was poised at her cunt. I looked down at the sight and rubbed it with my thumb, feeling how cold, sticky, and slippery it was; how wet my girl, my wife, was for me.
“Is my little wife ready for her husband’s cock?”
Her eyes rolled back and she nodded and gulped.
“Please, give me your cock, husband.”
No hesitation. Fuck, but I was rock-hard for her.
I was about to make her beg some more, but I could smell her arousal mingling with the scent of the vanilla, chocolate, and berries, could feel her legs trembling, and that look of lust and submission in her eyes? Fuck. I couldn’t stop my pelvis from slamming ahead, planting me inside her to the root. I held her hips and my pace went powerful, frantic. This was my girl, my wife, my fucking life.
This night needed to be magical, memorable, and I wanted her to look back on it when we were old and grey and still feel her belly flip and face get hot at the memory of it.
Minutes later, I was on my back and my cock was covered with ice cream and Tia’s mouth.
Fuck, but she was good at giving head.
This man had given me a lot of orgasms in our short time together, the best of my life, but wedding night sex was something else. It was beautiful. It was dirty. It was more than I could’ve ever hoped for.
It started off dirty, with a bucket of ice cream and a spreader bar, and continued past shower time (where we had against-the-wall sex with him in my ass, a vibrator in my pussy), and ended with sweet vanilla lovemaking, the lights on, him staring into my eyes as he sank inside me, cradling my face, kissing my mouth, telling me over and over that he loved me.
I loved this man so fricking much.