Wisdom’s POV
“The night is young, so young,” Denver said as he clasped my breasts and dived into my neck.
“It means we have more hours left to make a baby.” I laughed as if my jaw would fall out. “But we already have two. Twins to be exact.” Denver paused and looked at me, surveying my face on where he would lay his kiss the next second.
“Let’s make love then, Wisdom.” He locked his fingers with mine and pulled me to a sit. We were both sitting while facing each other. His ferocious snake was just an inch away from my deep, dark cave. “Let’s have a wild and rough sex, my wife...”
“Yes.” I, as a woman, can’t get enough of my man to be honest.
“Yes, my husband,” he corrected. My brows rose but he just kissed my forehead.
“Let’s begin.” His ragged breathing was the only sound as he kissed my neck. His hands began roaming too soon even before I could blink. His hand traveled across my back and sides, every curve path his fingers could touch. Caressing and teasing and feasting on my bareness.
I was an art he was meant to find, to explore my body as if I was the most perfect art his hands ever fondled. He was my Pygmalion and I was his Galatea. Here, in this sitting position. Bodies dancing to sensual music. Lips meeting and forming a rhythm of pleasure.
His wandering fingers reached my mouth and bit down a lip, sucking it into his mouth. It didn’t hurt, not really. But his bite was hard enough for me to meet the windows of his soul. To realize that I am forever his—and he is eternally mine.
He eased me onto the bed, laying me again on my back murmuring “Wisdom…” against my neck, the tip of my ear, the flawlessness of my legs.
“Please, Denver…” I urged him. His tongue explored the curve of my tits, the gracefulness of my lips.
It was a kiss for each minute Gerry kept us apart. A kiss for every wound and scars we had. A kiss for the love carved into our hearts and for all the days we would be together.
I gave myself to him. He was a fire, brightly burning amidst the dark of the night. I threw myself into him and just let myself be consumed by the flames. His flames, his scorching hotness.
Aware of every breath we take, I sat in his lap, legs spread widely. His hands gently stroked my hips as I stared at his face. “I want you to know, Wisdom Linnea Weisz-Giordano, that I love you. That I cared for you. That I possessed you… ” His lips quivered and I brushed away with my thumb the tear that escaped down his cheek.
“I want you to know,” I whispered, “that I may be paid to be your wife. But all the emotions I showed to you weren't for every penny you gave me. It was for every ember of love that I felt towards you, slowly forming into a firestorm.”
“Now look who’s giving a romantic monologue.” He smiled. I grinned back. I closed the distance between us and, in a heartbeat, our tongues danced with each other.
I wrapped my arms around him, pressed his bare chest to my breasts. His forehead is now on my shoulder, his eyes on my mouth.
“You’re wet…”
“Both of us are,” I purred.
“Your lips I mean.”
“I love you,” I said it this time without even thinking. It was only Denver who kept muttering those three words. Now, it’s my time to shine.
“No one, from now on, no one will take me away from you. And I won’t let them take you from me either,” he breathed.
I looked up to him. His face gleaming with tears, his eyes beaming with happiness.
“Hush, Denver. I never knew you’re so cute when you cry.” I went still as he leaned in, our mouths bursting into infinite passion.
When my lips were wet and salty with his tears, I pulled back far enough to see his eyes smiling. His body shivered with what might have been a sob. But I was able to halt it when my lips found his again.
It was gentle—a soft reminder that I am here, always. His hardness was against my stomach and I groaned into his mouth.
I was about to slide his dick when he scooped me up in a smooth, swift movement before laying me flat on a table—his working table. He cleared all the things from his desk in a swipe of his hand.
We kissed again. He deepened the kiss and I wrapped my legs around his back, hooking him closer and closer to me. His hands slid to cup my huge bosom. All I could feel was his mouth as it lowered to my breast and sucked it, his tongue jerking and flicking against my nipple. I arched into the sensation and lifted my arms as he peeled away his body and slid his flesh inside me in a blink.
I moaned, sweet and soft.
I plunged my fingers into his hair. He hoisted a hand beside my head and let out a low laugh. I watched him, breathless and braless, as he took that hand and traced a circle around my other breast. Then lower, until he kissed my belly button to where my twins were—to where our children are.
I snarled at him, a silent order. He pulled out his dick and found the space it was meant to cuddle between my boobs. He ground his hips against me, making me need more of him. Denver’s mouth crashed into mine, his bare skin so warm against my own. I gripped his face and his hands found my waist and clasped it.
Denver pulled back again and I let out a bark of protest that choked off into a gasp as he gripped my legs and yanked me to the edge of the table, hooking my legs over his shoulders to rest on either side.
My husband’s hand was pinning my hips to the table. And when his tongue found my cave, I reached up to grip the edge of the table, to hold tightly on the edge of the world that I was very near to falling off. He licked and kissed his way to the apex of my thighs just as his fingers replaced where his mouth had been, pumping inside me as he sucked. The table shook as my climax shattered through me, splintering my consciousness into a myriad of pieces. He kept licking me, fingers in a swift motion.
“Den…” I rasped.
He entered again. And this time, he was the one grinding, moving. Thrusting and sweating.
He knelt before me as if, this time, I am the Goddess. I am his deity and he is my worshipper, kneeling on those sorrows and trials we faced. Kneeling on those feral nights and wild days our bodies feasted on each other. He would bow for no one and no one but me.
Now. I wanted him now. Again. Inside me.
But he remained kneeling, feasting on me. His hand is still pinning me to the table. His mouth found mine once more, the kiss open and deep. A clash of each other’s tongues and teeth and love and romance. He lay me down on the floor and I locked my legs around his back, careful not to hit the table’s legs.
Though I stopped caring as he nudged at my pussy. And paused to look at me.
He finally entered again, and this time, I gripped him tightly so he may not pull away. He growled his approval at my moan and unleashed himself on me entirely. He worked me in great sweeping strokes, in a slow and steady drilling. He looked at my nakedness, covered in but my glinting skin.
Denver laughed in a way that skittered along my bones.
Then he dived deeper.
And deeper.
And deeper.
I closed my eyes and could hardly breathe. I could hardly think beyond where our bodies were joined. He stilled inside me, letting me relish and savor every minute we made love. When I opened my eyes, I found him staring down at me.
Denver moved slightly and pushed back in slow thrusts. So torturously slow.
He pulled out, then thrust in. Pulling and thrusting. Thrusting and pulling,
Faster and then slow. Slow, then deep.
Whatever pace he enjoyed, I just lay down here on the cold-stone floor, watching my husband do nothing but me for the rest of the night.
***
Denver’s POV
I felt it, the oozing love between us.
Two hearts bound to one another like an unbreakable chain. Our love is like an ever-burning fire, like a never-melting ice. Like a brightly shining day and like an always silent night.
With each pounding stroke I made, my wife’s moan became louder and louder.
“Wisdom,” I whispered, dragging my hands through her hair, down her chest, across her tits.
She was my friend through many angers. My lover who I completed and made me complete. My wife who was once I paid to be, who waited for me with all the hope brimming in her heart, despite all odds. Against all odds.
I moved my hips in time with hers. She kissed and fondled me over and over. Every inch of me brightened and burned with fiery passion. My control slipped entirely as she whispered, “I love you.”
Release tore through my body as I pounded into her, hard and fast, spilling out pleasure until I felt that climax emptied me and flowed to her. We were the beginning and middle and end, the moon and the stars and the sky.
We were a music that had been played from the very first time we met, from the very first time I spoke her name—never expecting that the name I uttered would soon be my wife.
Wisdom roared as she came, slamming into chest repeatedly.
Silence sang, interrupted only by our panting and breathing.
She made me look at her. Her eyes were radiant like the stars we gazed at during our wedding night. I swear those eyes gave me a grin that was positively, wickedly sexy.
“Thank you,” she declared while repeatedly stroking her legs against mine.
I don’t know how many hours we stay awake, lazily just touching each other as if we have all the night in the world.
And indeed we have.