Page 24 of Accidentally Marrying the Prisoner
By the time Mirabeth has finished shampooing and conditioning my hair, rinsing the last of the suds away, I have two fingers on my right hand pumping in and out of her while I massage her clit with my tongue, making her scream my name with her climax, her inner walls clamping around my fingers like they’re trying to suck them deeper. I’d eaten her pussy just about every day until she locked me out, and she tastes even better than before. Wetter, too, and I don’t think it’s from the shower. It’s a subtle difference that drives me wild.
Fuck the doctor’s instructions. I don’t care if I end up back in urgent care with an infection too gnarly for the antibiotics to fight. Grabbing Mirabeth’s hips, I kiss my way up her stomach, giving her belly button a little extra love to make her giggle, then turn her around to position her on her hands and knees.
“It’s been too long, hasn’t it, princess?” I ask as I part her lower lips with the head of my cock, her pussy warmer than I remembered.
“Y-yes,” she says breathily, turning to watch me over her shoulder, her messy bun wet and hanging limply to the side, water droplets racing along her smooth skin. “But we’re supposed to wait.”
I hide my grin and groan instead. “I know, but I’m desperate here…and so are you.” I lift my brows, and her cheeks pinken. Yeah, she is. “How ‘bout the tip of the tip of the tip?” I ask, dragging my cock head up and down her slit, spreading my precum all over her.
She gives me a knowing look. “It’s never just the tip.”
She’s so right.
Scrubbing the water from my face, I say, “Then you’ll have to stay like that while we take care of ourselves. Can you do that?”When she nods, her eyes hooded with desire, I choke my dick in my grip and say, “Thank fuck.” I didn’t have to use mybossy voice, as she calls it, to get her to give in, though I would have if I needed to—and she would have secretly loved it.
Mirabeth goes a step further as she watches me jerk my cock when she lowers her upper half, walking her knees out to the sides of the tub so I have a better view.
“That’s it, princess. I love it when you show me what’s mine. Such a good girl.”
Mirabeth whimpers, tilting her hips higher with a deeper arch of her back.
“Look how pretty and swollen you are after I fucked you with my tongue.”
“Conrad,” she moans, blinking the water out of her eyes when she slips a hand between her thighs, massaging her clit with the pads of her first two fingers.
“You’re feeling good, aren’t you? Spread that pussy for me.”
Mirabeth shivers, her mouth open as she moans long and loud for me.
My eyes are locked on the bull’s eye target of her pussy when she switches between spreading her lower lips, pausing so I can look my fill, before dipping her fingers inside herself, then bringing them back to her clit. She does so over and over again until her hips are jerking with another climax, her pussy swallowing her slender fingers.
The moment her eyes flutter shut and her fingers slip out, I finally let go of the orgasm I’d been fighting back. I don’t thrust inside her to the back of her channel and cum deep within her like I want to, but I do the next best thing—I inch closer on my knees, take aim when I angle my cock down, and paint her open pussy with my cum. I square my jaw, forcing my eyes to remain open instead of letting them roll back in my head with each spurt, ensuring all of my cum lands where I’ve intended.
Frowning when I see it begin to drip down, I pull Mirabeth up to sit on her knees with her back to my chest, caging her legs between mine so her thighs are pressed tight together. I kiss the corner of her jaw as I stroke her belly and then her breasts, tugging on her nipples, getting her worked up again.
She’s begging for a third climax, grinding her ass against my cock when I force my fingers between her thighs, trying to subtly push my cum into her channel while I play with her clit. It’s a no-go unless I let her spread her knees again, which I won’t in case any more leaks down her inner thighs, but I give it my best effort. So does she, working a second, smaller release out of me once she orgasms, making a mess when I come on my stomach and her lower back.
“Conrad,” she murmurs, pushing her hands up to slip her fingers into my hair.
“Hmm?”
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but…I’m so glad my mom tricked me.” She opens her eyes, smiling softly at me over her shoulder.
“Me too, princess,” I say with warmth in my chest, my lips brushing her ear as the water begins to cool. “Me too.” I give her one last, lingering kiss on her cheek before pulling away, needing to towel her off before she gets too cold.
CHAPTER
NINE
MIRABETH
My social battery is close to sputtering out by the time we’re seated outside at two wooden picnic tables that have been butted up against each other at Big Hart’s—a dance hall riding the county line. Between the prison outreach program, Conrad’s welcome home party, and now this night out with Conrad’s boss and coworkers, I’ve met and chatted with easily five times the number of strangers than I had in all of last year combined. I look forlornly across the concrete patio at my Beetle parked in the lot while live country western music spills out of the hall’s open garage-style doors.
It’s not that Sam, Jorge, Keagan, and the five other coworkers, plus all their spouses, aren’t good company. They are, with their boisterous laughter as they poke fun at Conrad’s hand, trading stories of “good times” they had that ended with a trip to urgent care or the ER with their own injuries since getting into the carpentry business, showing off their scars or, gruesomely, pictures.
I grimace.
Ok, so it’s not exactly fun, per se, but they’re a happy, lively crowd. It’s just that I’m running on empty as I wait for our waitress, Mckinley, to come back to our tables with another two iced buckets of beer. And when she does, I perk up a little when I lift my drained pint glass to get her attention.
