Arabella's and Hardin's story continues....
After almost three years of blissful marriage, and reigning as King and Queen, our star crossed lovers can't find a single fault in their perfection of a life.
Then, it gets even better with a special deli...
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"Fuck me," I begged, ripping off my husband's shirt. He growled in response, gripping my ass harshly with one hand and my cheek with the other.
Pulling back, I felt my pussy throb at the carnal desperation lingering in his eyes. "I want nothing more." His hands tore my dress into literal shreds, and throw the flimsy material without a care.
I reached down to unbuckle his pants and we fell back onto the bed. Chuckling, I kicked down his jeans, pushing them to the floor and grinder frantically against his hard erection.
Fuck, I could have come just like. With the mere simplistic friction, with his erotic words. I needed his cock, hard and pulsing inside of me. I needed his tongue devouring my pussy, but we only had five minutes, so we needed to make it count.
Suddenly, a loud cry ripped through the air, forcing us to break out heavy kiss. "Fuck," I groaned, and not utter post-orgasm bliss.
"I'll go." Hardin murmured, already shrugging his pants on. I listened to the door click as it closed behind him and released a heavy sigh.
Now I loved my baby girl but shit, I needed to fuck my husband. Months of thinking we would never see each other again, and then weeks of waiting to give birth. Now, eleven weeks after our little girl's birth and fully healed but yet...there was no just frigging time.
"Baby, she's hungry." My husband called from the conjoining nursery. I could feel my breasts getting heavy and aching as I forced myself out of the warm confines of my bed.
The marble floor felt like cold steel underneath my bare feet, causing me to slip on a pair of sliders and a robe. I smiled as entered the newly designed nursery.
White gold trimmings lined the floor and ceiling, a large white crib stood centre in the middle. A little ostentatious for my taste but Xander had it decorated secretly as a baby gift for us when we returned from our tour.
My favourite thing was the large rocking chair that sat tucked away besides the bookshelf. I spent nights curled up on it, rocking back and forth gently, as I fed my baby girl.
It was a strange thing motherhood, and although I considered myself a mother before even though I lost a child, I had never experienced this overwhelming, beautiful, fantastical nature of raising a human with my own body. Nurturing them, loving them with everything I had.
"There's my beautiful princess." I cooed, gently taking her from Hardin and watching her nestle her face against my breasts. Shrugging down my robe, she latched onto my erect nipple, harshly sucking away.
I winced, but the pain soon subsided and I slowly lowered myself down onto the rocking chair. Hardin set his hand on my shoulder, perching on the edge of the chair. His eyes watched in awe at the feeding happening before him.
I remember the first time he watched me breastfeed, the man spent the better part of an hour after worshipping them, only to waste all our free time on foreplay.
