glued to the ring. “It’s a princess cut and fucking flawless! Look at the fire in it!”
I rolled my eyes. I couldn’t care less. He could have tied a piece of string around my finger, and I’d be just as happy.
Alys simply hugged me, not bothering to moon over the gem. That would come later when we had a private moment to moon over it together.
“Where did you get it?” Connor asked Phil.
My two best friends and I hushed up.
“Cartier in LA,” replied Phil.
He’d been sitting on the damn thing for nearly two months!
Alcohol and toasts started floating around, and after I sipped on a flute of ginger ale in honor of our engagement, Phil somehow snuck us into our half, away from the guests, and up to our room.
“Ambrosia ain’t cuttin’ it,” he hissed in my ear, sounding all pissed and whatnot as he shoved me over the threshold.
He was such a manhandler. I liked the manhandling, especially when he bent me over the edge of the bed and dropped once more to his knees, pushing the skirt of my dress up over my ass.
“Ohhh fuuuck,” he moaned. Grabbing an ass cheek in each hand and squeezing, he pressed his hot open mouth over my black lace–covered core. His tongue dragged over the fabric, and then he sucked gently, drawing my juices through it.
“Damn it, Phil!” I snapped, pressing back against him. “Quit teasing me!”
“You’ve been fuckin’ teasin’ me all fuckin’ night in your fuckin’ black dress and your fuckin’ vanilla-wearin’ ass.”
Yanking my underwear down, he lifted my left foot, so I could step out of them halfway.
“Spread your legs more,” he commanded.
Complying, he rewarded me with his lips and tongue attacking my swollen wet center. I moaned and pushed back, his tongue, lips, and teeth driving me out of my skull, until my thighs started to shake, and I came not nearly hard enough. My knees dropped gracelessly to the mattress, and I heard him get to his feet behind me.
Clink, clink went the belt buckle, and my still pulsating cunt convulsed in joyous anticipation. The hot, fat swollen head of him rubbed along my soaking wet slit, making me whimper.
“You want it, Sugar Tits?”
“Yes!”
“How should I give it to you?”
“I don’t care!” I cried out.
That earned me a hard slap on the ass. “How should I give it to you?”
“Long and slow,” I replied. “I want to feel all of it.”
“There’s people waitin’ for us,” he reminded me. “They might be missin’ us right now.”
“I don’t give a shit!” I hissed.
He gave me another slap. “Fuck yeah, there’s my Baby Girl.”
Long and slow, he pushed that monster into me, stretching me deliciously. He slipped and slid to the very end of me in one sweet glide.
“Oh, fuck me,” he groaned. Grasping my hips, he pulled out just as slow and then pushed back in. “I fuckin’ love watchin’ all of me disappear up inside you. You have no fuckin’ idea how much.”
“You feel so good, babe,” I told him. “Nothing can compare.”
“Too fuckin’ right,” he bit out, keeping an achingly sweet pace.
In…out…in…out.
“I wanted to torture your sweet cunt for drivin’ me apeshit, lookin’ and smellin’ all perfect…but I can’t. I want you too much.”
“Fuck me harder,” I begged.
He was lovingly caressing the sweet spot in me, and I needed more. I knew I’d come either way, but the orgasm he had given me from eating me out only teased me. I wanted the power inside him to be unleashed.
Phil picked up the pace, fingers digging into my flesh, making me moan deep from my chest.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted. “Come, Baby…I can’t hold on much longer. Your cunt is too good.”
“Harder!” I begged.
He’d send me over the edge if there was a twinge of pain to sharpen the sweetness.
“Don’t hold back, Phil! Fuck me!”
The pace quickened, our bodies coming together in hard, wet staccato slap, slap, slap, slaps.
“Now, Kenna!” he snarled.
Stars exploded. Colors burst in sparkling showers, more brilliant than the rock squatting on my finger. Sound dimmed as a glorious ringing hollowed out my auditory sense. Phil pushed, shoved, and finally catapulted me into the space beyond heaven, fast on my heels, chasing me with the most wonderfully unholy of roars.
Hand in hand, we lay back and sparked a spliff, our naughty bits dripping and airing out, still in our fancy getups.
“You think they heard?” Phil asked.
“Yeah, babe. Your voice kind of carries.”
“Yeah. I doubt we’re in trouble though. No one’s come to check on us.”