Page 18 of Accidentally Marrying the Prisoner
He chokes when he sees that I’m bare. “Why aren’t you wearing the panties I picked out?”
“I didn’t want my panty lines to show,” I say breathily, crossing my hands over my mound with embarrassment.
“I hate the idea that you’ve been walking around all those people with your little pussy bare, but fuck, do I also love it. So hot,” he says, grabbing my knees and spreading them. “Move your hands. I want to see you.”
“No!”
He has my knees hiked up and pushed down to the sides in the blink of an eye. “Move. Your. Hands. Princess,” he says sternly. “The sooner you do, the sooner I’ll be done.” He grips his shaft, biting off a moan. “And the sooner you’ll get to eat that steak you were drooling over.”
My hands fly up to grip my hair. He’s right. I really want that steak, even if the man who was grilling it was a giant turd to his son.
“Good girl,” Conrad breathes out in a rush, stroking his cock with his eyes pinned to my most intimate region. “That’s the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen. Can’t believe I even fit in there. You took me so well.”
I preen at his praise, as silly as it is, and I shift my hips beneath his burning attention.
“You want me, don’t you?” he asks, gripping the back of my right thigh with his free hand, pushing my leg up higher, spreading me wider with my ass hanging off the edge of the bed.
I moan and arch my back, my clit pulsing. “We can’t,” I say weakly. “Even…even if I wanted to”—which I do—“we don’t have any protection. No birth control, no condom, no sex. No babies.”
“Ok, ok,” he says, pointing his cock down until his crown is only inches away from pushing inside me as he continues to stroke himself. “You’re right. No babies.” For a while, he seems content with simply masturbating while staring unblinkingly at my sore pussy, grunting with each jerk of his hand. But then he says, “Could I…just the tip of the tip…and I’ll cum on your stomach.”
“Ok,” I easily agree with a fast nod that further musses my hair, wanting him to touch me so badly, I’m afraid I’m going to combust if he doesn’t.
“Fuck, thank you, princess.” We both moan when he bends his knees and tries to push just his tip inside me. Even that has me sucking in a pained breath, my lower lips so tender and raw from the intense stretch last night.
“Ah, I’m sorry.” He jerks his cock up, his eyes rounded and wild, teeth gritted. “Gotta warm you up first.” He switches to sliding the head of his cock along my clit, and my tense muscles relax at the pleasure. “There it is,” he says, seeing my expression lighten. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
“Mmhmm,” I agree, my hips writhing as he starts grinding against me. “So good.”
“Ready?” he asks.
I fist his T-shirt and yank his upper half down on top of me. “Yes, Conrad, yes.”
For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me when he dips his head, but he twists to the side, and his lips land on the corner of my jaw while he angles the crown of his cock to press the tip to my entrance.
“So tight. So wet,” he moans, barely applying any pressure, just as he’s supposed to…the tip of the tip.
It’s not enough.
“Please, Conrad.” I lift my legs and hook my ankles around his back. “I can take a little more now.”
“Yes, yes, you can.” Conrad grabs my hips and lifts them, forcing himself deeper. “You feel fucking incredible,” he says as he pumps shallowly.
I lightly bite his shoulder to keep from crying out when I use my legs to pull him closer. Everything else fades—the house, the crowd, our responsibilities and promises—as we work in tandem until he’s buried as deep as he can go, his shaft sliding along every spot inside me that lights up my world. I loop my arms around him, feeling the muscles in his strong back flex when he picks up the pace, fucking in and out of me until I have to cum. I have no choice.
Conrad abandons my left hip and presses his palm flat over my mouth when I start to scream out his name with my climax, and that only makes our illicit tryst all the hotter.
“My princess,” he says gutturally, his eyes locked with mine. “Gonna make me cum so hard.”
“Pull out!” I scream behind his hand, but it comes out garbled as he rips more pleasure and moans out of me with his faster, harder thrusts. “Pull out, pull out.”
“Going to—” He finally removes his hand, slapping it against the mattress as a vein bulges in his forehead, his hair falling forward to shadow his brow as his hips jerk out of rhythm.
“You’re supposed to pull out,” I whine. “No babies.”
“I know. I’m…I’m trying.” He reaches behind him to grab my left ankle, which I still have locked around him.
Oh.Right. I have to let go.
