Her husband. Fuck. The shiver that goes down his spine matches the twitch of his cock and the little pinch of his brow as he breathes out against her neck.
“I love you,” he murmurs in her ear. “I want to have you every way I can.”
She moans softly, more at his words than his touch. She wants him, desperately. She usually does. A good traits for a wife, she thinks.
Jill fingers herself, slow and steady until thoughts of him pressing her to the mattress of their bed helps fuel the throb between her thighs. The more she continues, the more the flush spreads over her cheeks and chest.
"Let me come around your fingers," she pleads. "At least give me that."
Founder, if that isn't tempting, especially feeling her rock against him as she fucks herself. One hand slips off her breast and towards her ribs, and he holds her against him like he could take her into him right through his skin. He breathes against her neck.
"No," he growls. "You have to come like this. Then you'll get your honours."
Strange for him to be so stern. She enjoys it, the gravel in his voice, the strong hold of his arm.
Jill huffs. She'd beg, but she's so close. Might as well finish and have what she truly desires: him.
She leans heavily into him as she chases her orgasm, the building pressure, until it peaks with a small gasp. She opens her eyes to look at him through the mirror as she presses her fingers deeper. Poor Jill, not having him inside her when she comes. A tragedy she trusts him to rectify soon.
It's something special to hold her while she orgasms with no effort spared for him; easier to appreciate, undistracted by himself. Pristine and selfless, which only serves to make him harder. He meets her eyes boldly, calm. She is so beautiful he could weep.
He doesn't. He has to reward her.
"Good girl."
He lifts her with an arm around her ribs and hefts her high enough to drag her into his lap properly. The mirror guides him as much as his other hand: he lines himself up with her, nudging her hand out of the way. He's bigger than her fingers. He's hotter than her fingers. He brings her back down fast and wet, watching inch by inch vanish inside her until he's all the way home.
She feels dizzy from the love she has for him. Jill can only watch as he maneuvers her and suddenly he's inside her, and she moans loudly at the pure relief she feels. This is better than what she hoped for: the sight of them in the mirror is the most erotic thing she's ever seen.
“The first was selfish, just for me,” he growls in her ear, as he starts to lift her up before fucking her back down on him. “But this one will be for you, as earned.”
She would argue this is all selfish for her, because even when he makes her want to beg, she enjoys it--but maybe she'll let him in on that later. He's always so careful not to overstep, and she worries the bubble might burst at any moment. Might as well enjoy.
"So much better than my fingers," she murmurs, giving a careful roll of her hips as she tries to lean back for a sloppy kiss.
"As it should be," he breathes, near panting until she turns her head, and then he willingly gives himself over for her kiss. Messy but desperate enough to make it hot, needy. "Oh, Jill..."
He shifts his hands from her hips to her inner thighs, spreading her wide as he fucks her so she's on full display.
He cranes his neck to be closer to her when she kisses him, eyes closing, but he looks at them again when she bids him to. He could shake with how tight she feels around him, how desperate for him she is even when he’s ramming her apart from below.
“We were made to fit together,” he says. It feels definitive. “We were always supposed to be together.”
It's not hard to come himself, feeling her clamp around him like that, feeling the wet heat of her all around him. He clutches her like they're one being, still jostling into her as he spills inside her, giving himself over to the sensation.
And then he just holds her, both arms wrapped tight around her, until she can breathe again.
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That she falls quiet after is the proof that she's focusing on the wetness between her legs, eyes on his face in the mirror.
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“I love you,” he murmurs in her ear. “I want to have you every way I can.”
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"You never disappoint, Clive."
That feels more important to say in the moment.
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"My wife," he just murmurs, eyes on her snatch.
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Jill fingers herself, slow and steady until thoughts of him pressing her to the mattress of their bed helps fuel the throb between her thighs. The more she continues, the more the flush spreads over her cheeks and chest.
"Let me come around your fingers," she pleads. "At least give me that."
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"No," he growls. "You have to come like this. Then you'll get your honours."
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Jill huffs. She'd beg, but she's so close. Might as well finish and have what she truly desires: him.
She leans heavily into him as she chases her orgasm, the building pressure, until it peaks with a small gasp. She opens her eyes to look at him through the mirror as she presses her fingers deeper. Poor Jill, not having him inside her when she comes. A tragedy she trusts him to rectify soon.
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He doesn't. He has to reward her.
"Good girl."
He lifts her with an arm around her ribs and hefts her high enough to drag her into his lap properly. The mirror guides him as much as his other hand: he lines himself up with her, nudging her hand out of the way. He's bigger than her fingers. He's hotter than her fingers. He brings her back down fast and wet, watching inch by inch vanish inside her until he's all the way home.
"There you go..."
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"Oh, Clive... you're too good to me."
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"So much better than my fingers," she murmurs, giving a careful roll of her hips as she tries to lean back for a sloppy kiss.
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He shifts his hands from her hips to her inner thighs, spreading her wide as he fucks her so she's on full display.
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"Look at us," she breathes out, voice barely above a whisper. "Look how perfectly you fit to me, Clive."
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“We were made to fit together,” he says. It feels definitive. “We were always supposed to be together.”
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Her fingers curl tighter in his hair.
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She trembles in his arms and says his name again and again until it just becomes sounds of pleasure before she comes again.
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And then he just holds her, both arms wrapped tight around her, until she can breathe again.
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"Clive," she says, and if there's more after that, she's lost it.
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"Yes, my love?" he mumbles against her neck, before gently sucking at one spot on.
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"I love you." It's probably what she was going to say.
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"I love you too," he says. "I hope that was worth it."
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"Very," she says. "Did you enjoy it, my love?"
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And more than a little pleased with himself.
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"As am I. I should ask you to marry me," she teases.
Yeah, she remembers.
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