Dawn crept over the ocean like liquid gold, painting the white sheets and our tangled bodies in soft light. I woke to the heavy, familiar weight of John’s arm locked around my waist and the slow, deliberate slide of his thick c**k against the slick mess between my thighs.
He was already hard.
Of course he was.
“Morning, wife,” he murmured against the back of my neck, voice still rough with sleep and last night’s sins. His hand slid down my stomach, fingers spreading me open so he could notch the swollen head of his c**k at my entrance. “You still full of me?”
I pushed back with a sleepy moan. “Yes…”
He sank inside in one long, unhurried thrust. The stretch was exquisite... Thick, deep, claiming. We both groaned at the perfect, filthy fit. His c*m from the night before made everything
