desires that he caters to without argument. he adjusts the blunt, thick head of his cock against your sensitive bud, rubbing over it purposely to watch your hips jump. then, he rubs, hips moving in a lazy grind that puts his weight into every slide of his length between your puffy folds. each thrust designed to kiss your clit.

his muscles are tightly corded where you claw at it through broken whimpers. whining for him to rub your clit harder and faster.

it's a request that breaks him. with his two calloused palms coming to lift your hips. he tilts your pelvis high enough, hips snapping in short, angled thrusts to satiate your greediness.

"gosh baby…she's noisy today. mm?"

your response comes in a petty squeeze to his biceps, all nails. it was a mean and unfair comment. especially when you'd been trying to keep your voice down.

but that wasn't what clark was referring to, you quickly realise. the wet sounds were coming from where you're currently connected. squelching, wet slaps of him snapping into your cunt. when his cock slips lower, it's met with resistance, his weeping tip notched right into your entrance.

"baby…c'mon…" he'd whisper, begging for your pussy to open up for him.

you weakly shake your head, pleading for him to take what he wanted. the spasms were no longer in your control. so clark does just that, pulling back enough to align himself just right. what you needed wasn't for him to stretch you out any more than he had with his fingers earlier.

in one, heavy thrust, he buries himself to the hilt in you. filling your belly with him. the motion knocks the breath out of both of you. his forehead pressed against yours as he takes it in, each ragged breath tearing at his throat.

each thrust, heavy and unrestrained, had you squeaking at every snap of his hips. clark's weight was overstimulating in every way possible. even better now with the soft cushion of the sand beneath you.

clark can only let out a choked noise when your walls flutter around him without warning. the potent wave of your orgasm pulsing, squeezing his cock in a rhythmic wash. he doesn't stop, pushing through and thrusting even more desperately. you're whining, incoherently, completely fucked out of your mind.

but clark's too damn close to stop for you to catch your breath, too fucking close to let his sweet baby's whimpers stop him from chasing the intoxicating pulse of your cunt as you cum for him.

he'd fist over the gingham beach towel laid beneath your hair, gripping right into the sand as he finally spills inside your spent pussy, before slumping with his dead weight onto your sweaty body.

but he supposed he hadn't accounted for his wife's libido on their honeymoon. because when you push at his already limp body, perching yourself on top of him and coating his abdomen with your slick. he's left blinking at you, all dazed.

the backdrop of the endless, sparkling sea behind you is scenic. gentle rocks of coconut trees shadowing the cozy, private corner chosen for impulsive intimacy. but you — you're the centre of it all. skin, hot to touch, that had nothing to do with the sun. you press your palms to his chest, curling and stretching above his body with a mischievous little grin.