Page 105 of Married with Blood
Kissing her was paramount to anything else I could do or say. Keeping my mouth preoccupied with hers was all that I could dare to accomplish. And with every sensual brush and suction of her mouth over mine, and the playful and demanding slides of her tongue alongside mine, she reclaimed me.
I wasn’t her brother’s killer.
I was her lover.
She wasn’t the victim of losing the last of her family.
She was my muse.
Together, we ground against each other and rolled over on the mattress until I could lower my hand to the slick slipperiness between her legs. I stroked my fingers through her arousal and marveled at how needy, how desperate, and how impatient she was as she parted her thighs to give me more access.
“I love you,” I told her again before lowering my head to lick and suck a circle around her breast.
“And I love you,” she whispered breathlessly as she arched her back to thrust her tits toward my face.
Almost on our sides, I canted her to fit against me. Teasing her wasn’t an option. Making her come and feel good was the only goal I had in mind.
She slid toward me as I urged her to lie back a bit more. Once I lined my dick up to her soaking wet entrance, I set my hand on her ass. Pushing her toward me as I thrust into her, I marked the exquisite freedom that stunned me every time I sank into her tight cunt. She gloved me. She swallowed me. She coaxed me to drive in deeper and savor her gripping me so snugly.
Panting with need, she furrowed her brow as she lifted her hand to frame my face. “Oh, God. I need?—”
“Me too.”
I needed this heat.
This love and bond. This building pressure to come and welcome in the bliss of an orgasm that would obliterate all the worries in our lives even for just a few moments.
I would always needher, just like this. Always.
I kissed her, almost shivering with pleasure as she slipped her hand up into my hair, scraping her nails over my scalp on the back of my head.
I was in her, to the hilt. But before I could disappoint her in not giving her what she needed, what she wanted, I set up a steady pace of thrusts. Shoving into her tight hole then pulling back out. Pounding into her slick inner walls then dragging my cock over the sensitive flesh as she moaned and writhed with desire.
Too soon, I felt the first signs of her coming. She clenched around me. Her breasts heaved faster as she sucked in gasps ofair. The tug of her fingers wrapped around my hair as she held on tight before letting go.
After her confession and worries and heartfelt vows to never let me doubt her, all her words of love and passion and commitment, I wasn’t going to try to prolong this. I couldn’t.
On the next deep thrust into her, my dick jerked. My balls pulled up tight. And I shot my load into her, coming so hard that I squeezed my eyes closed and winched my arms around her. She cried out at the same time, trembling as she draped her thigh over mine to secure herself around me without any break or gap.
We came together, and as we lay there afterward and caught our breaths, I realized that today wouldn’t have to be remembered as a day of death. Of an execution. With her in my arms, my child in her womb, we would always be able to come together in a celebration of life.
Of hope.
And of new beginnings. Some of which would start that night.
Carina fell asleep in my arms, and I slowly let her rest in peace in the bed. I showered then contacted my brothers and cousins about all that would still need to be done. Getting to a good place with my wife would always be a priority. But I was a problem solver. And more problems remained to be solved.
I checked in with Alexei and Lev about the placement of the Cartel men who’d shown up with Arturo. Dean called and explained the status of the runners and spies near the Garcia territory. News of Arturo’s death hadn’t spread yet, but we wanted to control the narrative of that. We intended to control—from a distance—as much as we could. There was no denying that killing Arturo Garcia would be viewed as an opportunityfor a takeover for Yusef Antonov and Gregori. For any other imperialistic Cartel leader.
Later, after Carina woke up and showered, she came down to join me in the kitchen.
“Now what?” she asked. It seemed like an open-ended question that could invite an emotional reply, but she was pragmatic in asking it.
“Did he drive up here with anyone from the Cartel?” she asked as she crossed her arms and let out a sigh. “Anyone who needs to be spoken to?”
I nodded.
“I’m willing to do whatever would help the situation.”
