My Big Fat Fake Wedding(117)

“Fuck, Ross!” she screams as she falls apart on my tongue, grinding against my mouth and covering my face in her juices. She bucks and quivers, her hips driving up until she collapses and she pushes me onto my back. It’s something that we’ve just learned about Violet . . . when she’s double-stimulated, the orgasm doesn’t drain her but supercharges her, something we both enjoy.

I lie back, letting her have her way with me and happily giving her control the way she just trusted me with it. Violet places my steely hard shaft between her tits, moving in a sexy massaging wave that leaves me breathless. With each stroke of my cock between her soft mounds, she voraciously sucks on the head of my cock, leaving me trembling on the edge of coming.

But Violet knows me as much as I know her now, and she pulls back, panting as she quickly climbs on top of me and impales herself on my cock. Both of us freeze, the feeling of being together with no doubts, no questions, no lies, and having been blessed anew stopping time as we adjust to the powerful sensations in our hearts, minds, and bodies.

“Mmm . . . I like married sex, Mr. Andrews,” Violet purrs when she’s ready, kissing my chin.

“I like married sex too, Mrs. Andrews,” I reply, reaching down and cupping her ass. Violet lifts up, riding me slowly, her slip a puddle of silk around her belly button as she slides up and down my cock.

We take our time, letting the heat build within her body, her breasts rising and falling until she reaches down and I capture her fingers in a tight grip, our hands intertwined.

Faster and faster we go, my hips thrusting up to meet her tight pussy, sheathing deep inside her with each slap of our skin. Violet throws her head back, her hair a cascade of curls and her skin flushed pink as she nears the edge again. Her pussy squeezes and tightens around my cock, driving me right to my limits.

She drops down hard, taking all of me and shattering herself as she cries out, her voice pure and joyous on the warm tropical air.

‘Say it,” I growl through gritted teeth.

“I love you, Ross. My husband.” Her words are breathless and stilted but what I need to hear to trigger my own orgasm.

I join her, my balls tightening and exploding, filling her with my seed as deep as I can as I grunt out, “I love you too. Wife.”

Finally, the world spins and I pull her to me, holding her tight until everything comes back together.

In the calm following the storm, Violet sighs happily on my chest. “Two whole weeks of this, huh?”

“That’s the plan.”

Violet laughs and kisses my chin again. “Keep it up, mister, and we’re going to have a stowaway on the trip home.” Violet rubs her belly down low, and I wonder if Nana’s baby chatter is getting to her the way it has to everyone else.

“Sounds good to me,” I say seriously.

Violet looks up at me, her eyes searching mine in question even as she jokes. “You do remember that twins and triplets run in my family, right?”

I snuggle her to my chest again. She relaxes, thinking I was just kidding and that she scared me off. But there’s no way. The only thing better than the thought of her by my side every day for the rest of our lives is the idea that she would be there holding our child.

“Bring it on, Chickie,” I whisper, and she balks loudly. Until I flip her over and slip my fingers in her messy pussy and press my lips along those shapely legs she’s trying to wrap around me. Amazing how she settles quite quickly and starts chanting my name when I do that.

By the time she comes, she’ll have agreed to think about babies. We’ll get there, when we’re both ready. Just like we got to this point, happily married, when the time was right. Even if it did take a big, fat, fake wedding.

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Continue reading for a preview of the first book in my Get Dirty series, Dirty Talk. It’s naughty, but it’s sooo sweet! Derrick King is the ultimate book boyfriend.





Excerpt: Dirty Talk





Chapter 1 - Katrina





“Checkmate, bitch,” I exclaim as I do a victory dance that’s comprised of fist pumps and ass wiggles in my chair while my best friend Elise laughs at me. I turn in my seat and start doing a little half-stepping Rockettes dance. “Can-can, I just kicked some can-can, I so am the wo-man, and I rule this place!”

Elise does a little finger dance herself, cheering along with me.

“You go, girl. Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Now let’s eat!”

I laugh with her, joyful in celebrating my new promotion at work, regardless of the dirty looks the snooty ladies at the next table are shooting our way.

I get their looks. I mean, we are in the best restaurant in the city. While East Robinsville isn’t New York or Miami, we’re more of a Northeastern suburb of . . . well, everything in between. This just isn’t the sort of restaurant where five-foot-two-inch women in work clothes go shaking their ass while chanting something akin to a high school cheer.

But right now, I give exactly zero fucks.

“Damn right, we can eat! I’m the youngest person in the company to ever be promoted to Senior Developer and the first woman at that level. Glass ceiling? Boom, busting through! Boys’ club? Infiltrated.”