by Rie Warren
“Want to be inside you, Tilly.”
She suckled the largest vein, and I braced against the wall in case my legs gave out completely.
“All these muscles. Mmm.” She scraped her tits against the hairs on my thighs.
I pulled her apricot tresses to the top of her head, grasped the root of my dick, and slid it all over her upturned face. She caught me with her lips, moistening the tip before popping it back out.
She licked one of my balls, her eyes finding mine, and my mouth gasped open.
“Turn around.” She nuzzled her face against the jutting meat of my cock. “I missed your tat.”
I pivoted, my head notched back on my neck, my muscles flexed to the max.
She touched me, kissing every ink covered wound and scar with her tongue. And each stroke seemed to seal my flesh in a way stitches never had. I shut my eyes and pushed my hands against the wall, rolling back against her, always for more.
“All this ass.” Grabbing my ass, she licked all over my glutes, nibbling and biting, sending my limited self-control out the window.
Tilly relented, turned me, took me immediately in her mouth.
And I gave her much, much more than a mouthful.
Soft and slow and sexy, she swallowed and sucked and widened her lips and her eyes when she opened her throat and slid me across her tongue.
I held one side of her face. My other hand clenched beside me, my fist tight, my abs tighter, my groin buckling when she flattened her hand against the hard wall of my stomach.
She nibbled down the side of my cock, took a full swinging ball inside her mouth, and twirled her wet palm up and down, up and down the stiff pole of my dick.
Changing direction, she plumped my nuts and stuck her tongue into my cock-slit before grasping the edges of the head between two wide, wet, wanton lips.
I came with a shout, instantly shoving her mouth a few inches down my shaft before sliding her back. The last shots jetted across her lips and down to her tits. I was still cursing from the feeling of firing off in her, on her, when I captured her in my arms.
My seed dripped hot between us.
We kissed with silky come on our mouths while I bore Tilly to the bed.
I lay her down, and she stretched, sensual, supine. The covers smelled like Tilly when I crawled over her. If warmth had a scent—sunshine and flowers and something spicy-cinnamon-y—it would be Tilly.
She opened her legs to me, hooking heels behind my ass.
“Fuck. Fuck.” I fumbled away from her. “Condom.”
“No condom.” Drawing me to her, she murmured, “I went on the pill.”
My hand roamed down her body and I cupped her before sliding a finger inside her.
Hot, slick, tight. She swiveled her hips to my circling finger.
When I withdrew it, she whimpered.
I met her mouth and placed my full weight on her. “Tell me if I crush you.”
“You won’t. Fuck me, Jus.”
I’d only just come, but I was ready. I speared inside her, curving her against me.
The first hit was hard and long and deep and heavy.
Tilly’s hands clung to my back. Her eyelids dropped low. She came so quickly her throbbing sex sucked me deeper.
“Oh, fuck!” I withdrew and lunged in, pushing her to the head of the bed.
It was hot and wet and wild. I punctuated each stroke with a lashing kiss, eating at her mouth, her chin, her neck, her tits.
My abs ripples. My groin tightened. My balls bunched.
On my forearms, I flipped her legs higher.
The fucking was tight and tense, and Tilly hissed when I hit a spot inside that made her drizzle over me.
Lowering my head to her ear, I coiled around her and collided inside her. Driving every gasp, every moan, each long groan.
I thrust inside her. Her back arched, and I held her in my hands, striving above her.
The last pumps from my pelvis brought me firmly against her with each slap, and slam, and smack of our bodies.
I shouted at the last moment before every single muscle tightened. The release just there. Tilly sucked on my neck and I exploded with tense motions.
“God. God. God! TILLY!”
Emptied inside of her, a flush hit my veins, a rush hit my head. I collapsed on top of her.
“I don’t want to move.” I jerked my hips again, still hard.
“Don’t move. You’re perfect.” Her hands swept down my back, up and down.
“I’m gonna dent you into the mattress like this.” I weighed a good one hundred pounds more than her.
“No.” She kissed my neck and fingered my hair. “You feel good.”
I shifted my hips slightly, knocking into her again. “You’ll hurt in the morning.”
“Yes. Maybe. You’re big and I love it.” Her stomach rippled up to mine, and I clasped her ass, ready for another go, maybe three or four more tonight.
Something grumbled loudly, and it wasn’t her telling me to get off her.
I smothered my laugh against her shoulder. “Hungry much?”
“Oh, you have on manners at all!”
Propping onto my elbows, I skewered her with a stare. “How am I supposed to ignore that noise? Damn, girl.”
“I missed supper because of you. Shut up.”
“You are gorgeous, and I can’t have you starved before I give you a proper workout.”
“You just told me I’d be sore because of you tomorrow!”
“That just means I’m not done yet.” I flipped onto my back then hopped out of bed. “C’mon, woman. You can teach me how to bake biscuits.”
Grabbing her hand, I headed out of the bedroom.
She skidded her feet to stop me. “You’re naked!”
I looked down my body, looked at hers with much more lingering appreciation, and shrugged. “Yup. I plan on being naked with you a lot.”
After squeezing her rump, I jumped the first few steps downstairs.
She dragged me up short. “I wouldn’t want you to singe anything important.”
She licked her lips as her gaze meandered to my cock.
“I’ll wear an apron.” I waggled my eyebrows.
“You wouldn’t.”
“’Course I would. You too. I think I’ll like the saucy maid look on you.” Giving her no more chance to protest, I slung her into my arms.
Naked and with her feet beating against my thigh, I made a grand tour of the house—living room, her office, a bathroom all downstairs with three bedrooms and two more bathrooms above that she mentioned—and the kitchen.
“This’ll do.” I made out with her in the middle of the twilight-drenched kitchen. “I like your house. A lot of rooms to christen.”
She laughed up at me when I set her feet on the floor. “I think I’m marrying a caveman.”
“You love it. Admit it.” I captured her back against me and held her hard. “You wouldn’t do with a man who was too much of a dumbass to appreciate every part of you.” I reached between us and grabbed her two hands. “You’re not shy, are you?”
“No, but I—”
“Mm. Being naked? With me? Worries you?”
“You make me think about sex.” She plucked her hands from mine.
“Believe it or not you make me think about it too. So much we better get you covered up before I do very dirty deeds to your sexy hot body and forget all about wrangling up something to eat.”
I opened cupboards and closets and the pantry while Tilly stood like Venus herself, all apricot hair and soft freckles, and gleaming, creamy skin.
“You do have aprons.” I pulled an armload from the pantry and measured them against her.
I eventually found the perfect one, only occasionally stopping to suck her pretty peaked nipples between my lips.
The apron I chose was a dangerously short, frilly pink number that had no bib and tied around her waist.
I did the honors with a large bow that sat at the top of her shapely ass with
the ribbons bouncing against her butt.
“Oh yeah. I like that.” My body’s natural reaction made that very clear, and Tilly’s fingers whispered over my rigid cock.
I winked at her and stepped back, donning my own apron in dark blue that covered most of my hairy thighs. “You can have more of that later. After I get some food in you.”
She sputtered with laughter, shaking her head.
I swatted her on the ass with a serious look on my face. “C’mon girl. Git to it! You’re gonna have me dying of hunger over here.”
She propped a hand on her hip—ruining the stern pose when her luscious naked tits jiggled. “You said you were gonna cook.”
Running a finger above my upper lip, I squinted at her. “That’s right. I did.”
And so I set about making my specialty, breakfast for dinner. With the sun setting outside and birds chirping from trees inside her fenced yard. The kitchen was cozy—nothing sterling silver or super modern but totally Tilly. Little pots of fresh herbs lined the windowsills, mugs hung from a red-painted rack, newspapers and magazines piled up on one end of the counter.
“Meant what I said before, Tilly.” I flipped the bacon like a short-order cook. “I like your house. Plenty of room. Nice and homey.”
“Plenty of room . . . you mean for you too?”
I whisked up some eggs to make a fancy Spanish omelet while she measured out the ingredients for the now infamous biscuits. “Yeah. Of course.”
“You’ll live here?”
“I’m marrying you, I’m damn sure living with you.”
“But isn’t Savannah a little slow-paced for you?” She gawked at me then hid a smile behind a flour-dusted hand at the sight I must’ve made in her kitchen with my bare ass and my huge tat on show while I cooked at her stove.
“Slow, fast, none of that matters as long as I’m with you. And your job is here. Besides, Walker pretty much fucked up my place in New York. Got it compromised.”
“He did?”
“Yeah.” I remembered Walker’s story about the Feebs followed by his wintry dive into the Hudson with a rueful chuckle.
“Okay.” Tilly chewed on her lip.
“Good. Wasn’t planning on leaving no matter what you said”—I paused while she rolled her eyes—“so I’ll just need to get my hardware shipped down and set up some alarms in here and we’re all set.”
I mixed all the ingredients she’d sorted out for the biscuits, then we rolled out the dough together, and that was what I was talking about when I meant making biscuits.
She stood in front of me, I looped my arms around her, and we handled the pin together. My chest brushed her bare back. Her bare ass nestled against my groin, and a lot of interesting things happened beneath the cover of my apron, which rose at a distinct angle.
I tried to cool my lust after Tilly bent over to put the biscuits in the oven, giving me a glimpse of all the pink and glistening and swollen flesh between her thighs.
I cleared my throat heavily. “How come those biscuits look as flat as cow pats?”
That time I really was talking about the biscuits. The ones in the oven.
“What do you know about flat cow pats, city boy?” Her hand was on her hip again.
Her breasts swaying again.
I moseyed up to her and said with a deep southern twang, “Don’t take a country boy to know when somethin’s risen.”
Guiding her hand down between my thighs, I placed her palm on my cock tenting the front of my apron.
My head kicked back when she grasped me completely.
“I see.” Kissing the center of my chest, she withdrew her hand to whisper, “They’ll rise in the oven.”
“What about me?”
“You can wait, city boy.”
We managed to hold off from going at it in the kitchen, but it wasn’t easy.
Everything finally ready, Tilly set out the food and I made a beeline for my bag to produce a fine bottle of 2012 Ornellaia wine. I found two glasses, presented the bottle to Tilly, and uncorked it.
“A little wine with your breakfast-for-dinner, madam?”
“Ah do believe I could partake, kind sir.”
Our grins were perpetual, and my mouth was watering for more than simply food. Tilly began to sit down beside me, but I grabbed her around the waist.
“I got your seat right here.” I patted my lap.
“Justice! I can’t do that.”
She put up light resistance, but I easily overrode it, settling her naked ass in the center of my lap. “Plenty of room. Perfect fit.”
We ate and laughed and teased and drank, and I’d never had a better dinner or one so filled with sexual tension.
Tension that broke when I picked up one of the biscuits we’d both been avoiding. “It didn’t rise in the oven.”
Tilly cleared her throat, passed me the butter dish, and snuggled her rear more deeply against me. “But something else sure did—again—and it definitely hasn’t been in the oven.”
I smirked and buttered my biscuit.
I took one bite then . . . spat it right back out. “Fuck! These are horrible. Who made these things? We could take ’em out back and use them for target practice.”
Tilly laughed so hard tears streamed down her cheeks and she couldn’t catch her breath. “Oh, Justice! I had no idea you were like this.”
Blinking innocently, I examined the cow pat biscuit in my hand, smiling. “I’m not. It’s being with you. You fill me all the way up.”
“I think I’m going to love being your wife.”
I tossed the biscuit away, and it banged on the table.
“Let’s get a start on that lovin’ right now.” Reaching to Tilly’s front, I slid both palms up the insides of her thighs.
Her back arched, and I laid her legs on either side of mine, opening her to me.
“I’m warm.” Her head dipped back to my shoulder, her tongue licking my neck.
I eased two fingers inside her all the way.
“Very warm,” I murmured.
“Justice, what are you doing?” she asked breathlessly.
“You like to say my name a lot, don’t you?” Nipping her on the bare shoulder, I thumbed up against her clit. “Getting frisky with my fiancée. Now, you’re warm, what else are you?”
“Wet.” She gasped.
I plunged three fingers inside. “Very wet.”
“I want . . .”
“I want you too.” When I hooked my apron out of the way, my cock reared up and butted immediately against her drenched folds. “You’re wonderful.”
Pulling out my fingers, I sucked them clean right next to her ear where she could hear every slurping sound.
Fisting the root of my cock in one hand and kneading one of her big tits with the other, I lifted my groin.
My cock parted her in a thick hot stroke. The feel of her grasping me from the inside made me tilt my face to the ceiling and groan.
“Uhn. That’s a tight fit.” A perfect fit.
A wet and sucking and mind-fucking fit.
Her hands splayed on my knees, she leaned forward. Her head dropped as she gasped for air.
“What’s it look like?” I swallowed down a loud curse, pushing the last pulsing inches inside.
A deep indrawn breath lifted her shoulders. “Oh God. So good, Jus. Ahhh. You’re magnificent. So male.” Her hand dropped and she palmed my needy balls. “I’m making you slick. You fill me so, so much.”
I dropped my pelvis, withdrawing from her in an aching, throbbing slow slide.
With my hands cupping both tits, I said in a harsh voice, “Ride me, Tilly.”
Ride me she did with a smooth canter and faster gyrations. I watched from behind, the sight of her pink flesh breached by my darker turgid cock making me wild. She watched from the front until she grabbed the edge of the table for support and bounced savagely. She came with a hushed yell, forming a tight bow while I drove faster inside her.
Needing more, I stood her up.
I arranged her in front of me with her hands on the table, her ass up and out. Her hair flamed around her shoulders. Her breath shook. Her firm ass and juicy cunt were erotically framed by the ribbons of the apron.
Mine however was in the way.
I thrashed it off of me, grumbling, “Whose idea was that, anyway?”
Her laughter bobbed out of her but quickly became a moan when I lunged back into her with one powerful thrust.
Fuck.
Holding her by one shoulder and one hip, I slammed into her like a man possessed. The table shook. The plates danced. Glasses fell over. And our voices gelled—my rasping roar, her mewling moan—when I fucked her off the balls of her feet, held her captive in my arms, and emptied every last jet of come into her.
Drawing Tilly up and around, I kissed her until her knees wobbled and mine nearly buckled.
“Three weeks?” she asked, folding her hands around my neck.
“Make that two.”
Chapter Thirty
In-law
TWO WEEKS WASN’T LONG to get settled at my new home base in Savannah. Some of my ops had lasted longer than fourteen days. And thankfully, on hearing the news, Blaize had given me a reprieve. But, man, those two weeks couldn’t fly by fast enough.
I shipped my shit down, and it all fit in the house just like I’d imagined. I didn’t have much. The computers and gadgets filled one spare bedroom. My extensive armory of weapons I locked in a closet in the same room. My clothes went into a new dresser that stood across our bedroom from Tilly’s, like matching bookends.
I also seriously updated the security system because no woman of mine was going to go unprotected in our house.
Our house.
My name was now on the deed, and I’d paid off the rest of the mortgage.
Tilly’s eyes had rounded like big green apples when I’d rolled the customized Harley Fat Boy night train off the moving van.
I’d placed a helmet on her head, arranged her hair below it, and chucked her under the chin. “You’re going to love it, babe.”
And she did. That first run on the sick, muscled up Harley to Georgia’s Golden Isles. Tilly holding on tight and laughing all the way.
I was gonna turn her life upside down just like she had mine in the best possible way. I was going to give her wild adventures no one would appreciate like she did because we just got each other in a way that made me think we were soul mates.