sway with the motion of my thrusts. We grind our bodies together, stirring up an inferno of friction.
Sweat beads on her forehead, on my chest, we drip and melt and fall into each other until there are no barriers between us. My balls get tight as I bite Bernadette's lower lip and pump into her, an orgasm ripping its way through me. I shoot my hot cum into her as she squeezes around me, in the throes of another orgasm.
We are in perfect unison, just the way I fucking like it.
“Stupid ass,” Bernie whispers as I lick the side of her neck. Her body breaks out in goose bumps as I roll off with another laugh, tucking her up against me. If she thinks we're done, she has another thing coming. But I might let her rest for a bit.
Might, being the key word.
“I've won, Bernadette,” I tell her, ignoring her snort of disbelief. “Just accept that you're mine, I'm the boss, and I hold the reigns of Havoc.”
“Just accept that I'm your wife, and I hold your reigns. Therefore, I also hold the reigns of Havoc. Get fucked, Victor Channing.”
“Oh, we'll see about that,” I growl back at her, but she isn't arguing. Instead, she's as soft as a kitty cat next to me. This moment, this view of her, it's for me and me alone.
I take my time enjoying it before I get out of bed and leave.
“Having fun up there?” Hael asks when I pad down the stairs in bare feet, searching for a snack to bolster my stamina. If Bernadette thinks we’re actually done for the night, she has a few surprises waiting for her. We’re not quitting until the sun comes up. Maybe not even then. At best, she can get in a few short naps between sessions.
I’m going to fuck her until there’s not a male in Havoc that doesn’t know she’s mine.
I stare at my boys, slouched and slumped across the Vincents’ living room. They look ridiculous in here, all tatted up and fucked up and bored as hell. Assholes. We have a whole mansion to ourselves, complete with a goddamn swimming pool, and they’re sitting in here like they don’t have anything better to do?
“If by fun, you mean screwing the shit out of my wife, then yeah, I’m having bucketloads of fun.” I grab my balls as Hael snorts with laugher, following me into the kitchen and tossing some weird-ass glass bauble around like a toy. He drops it and it shatters, pieces of a dried starfish mixing with the glass. Some people need serious help with their decorating. It looks like a fucking fish morgue in here with all the dead, dried sea life scattered everywhere. I open the fridge and lean in to browse its contents.
“You try any of those toys I got you?” he asks, and I turn the most poisonous glare in my repertoire on him. Hael whistles and holds both palms up and out toward me in a placating gesture. “Jesus, you’re such a prickly fuck. What’s wrong with sex toys?”
“Well, you redheaded fucker,” I start, grabbing the sandwich shit from earlier and deciding I’ll make one for myself this time. My balls are empty, and I need to make some more sweet honey for my girl. “First thing that’s wrong is that you bought them.” I gesture at him with a knife, but he doesn’t seem to get the threat apparent in it.
“It’s my wedding gift to you guys,” Hael says, like I’m a crazy person. He turns back to Callum, Aaron, and Oscar, gesturing at them like he expects them to agree. “Bernadette deserves more than a quick dicking every now and again, am I right? Use a vibrator on her. Try a butt plug. Have some goddamn fun, Vic.”
“Don’t involve me in this conversation,” Oscar says, watching something on his iPad. Probably a true crime show of some sort. He’s goddamn obsessed with them. He’s only got one earbud in though, so I know he can hear us. “What you do with your wife is none of my concern.”
Fuck, he’s a silver-tongued liar. I scowl at Oscar as I slap some mayo on a piece of bread. When I’m done, I take a quick break to light a joint. It’s from our own special strain of weed: Havoc at Prescott High. It’s a sativa, nice and bright, prone to lending the smoker some much-needed creative highs.