The Flighty Fiancee (10 page)

“Lie back against the table,” he said, excitement
thrumming deep inside him.

She complied immediately, sweeping the cutlery and
food aside in one quick motion.

“I’m going to fuck you again now,” he told her.
“Differently and you’re going to like it, India. No, you’re going
to love it. And by the time we’re done they’ll be no going back, do
you understand? Not now. Not ever.

India nodded, her face flushed, excitement dancing
in her eyes.

“Any way I can get you, India,” he said. “You know
that now.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And on Sunday you will be my wife and we will do
this every single night. Never again will you doubt my desire for
you or my love.”

Her eyes widened, shock so obvious in them and his
heart squeezed. “Your love?”

“Of course I love you, India. Why else would I feel
this way with you? Who else could drive me to such heights of
madness?”

India leant forward and took his cock in her hand,
rubbing along the swollen head. “I love you too, Bartholomew. I’ve
wanted you for so long. You should never have made us wait.”

“Never again,” he said. “Never again. You can have
me as often as you want.”

“Then give it to me.”

So he did, pushing her backwards on the table
Bartholomew covered her body with his, and gently steered his cock
into her puckered hole. She gasped as the very tip made entry.
Stretching her soaked entrance. “Oh my God!” she breathed.

“I told you you’d like it.”

“More,” she demanded. “Give me more.”

He pushed in another inch, careful to make sure her
body was accepting him. “Rub you nub,” he told her and she gasped
all over again.

“I can’t.”

“Anything,” he repeated. “Between us anything is
okay.”

India trailed her hand down her sweat soaked belly
and did as he asked. Rubbing herself with frantic movements.

“Other hand on your breast,” he demanded. “Pinch
your nipple.”

“So commanding, my Lord,” she teased, pleasure
chasing across her features. “Flighty fiancée you said if I
remember correctly?”

He laughed in delight, easing another inch in, not
even halfway close to filling her completely “That is what
they
said, India.”

“Then surely it’s time you took me in hand?”

So Bartholomew, helpless against his lady’s demands,
did.

The End