Curvy Bride's Rough Cowboy Wedding Ride
Curvy virgin bride gets her first rough ride from her cowboy husband on their wedding night.
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The screen door of the little cedar honeymoon cabin banged shut behind us, cutting off the last notes of laughter and fiddle music drifting up from the reception barn. My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. Twenty-two years of waiting, of saving every single touch for this man, and now here we were.
Jake’s big hand stayed possessively at the small of my back as he guided me inside. At thirty-four he was all weathered muscle and quiet authority, the kind of cowboy who could break a stallion or calm a frightened heifer with the same steady voice. Tonight that voice had been low and rough every time his eyes dragged over my white lace dress and the generous body underneath it.
The cabin smelled of pine, woodsmoke, and the faint vanilla of the candle he’d lit earlier. One lamp glowed low on the nightstand, throwing gold across the wide iron bed. My knees felt liquid.
“Been waitin’ on this night longer than you know, darlin’,” Jake murmured, stepping close enough that I could smell the bourbon and cake on his breath. His calloused fingers brushed a loose curl behind my ear. “Every time you blushed and looked away at the altar, I kept thinking about how sweet that virgin pussy is gonna taste when it’s finally mine.”
Heat flooded my face and between my thighs at the same time. I’d never heard him talk like that, not out loud. The dirty words made my nipples tighten against the satin lining of my bodice.
“I’m scared I won’t be any good,” I whispered, the confession slipping out before I could stop it. “I’ve only ever… touched myself. Thinking about you.”
His green eyes darkened to forest shadow. “Yeah? Tell me what you did when you thought about me, sweetheart.”
My voice shook. “I’d rub my clit real slow and pretend it was your tongue. Sometimes I’d push two fingers inside and imagine it was your cock stretching me open. I always came whispering your name.”
A low, hungry sound rumbled in his chest. Jake reached for the tiny row of pearl buttons at the back of my dress and began to undo them one by one. Each tiny pop sounded louder than a gunshot in the quiet room. The fabric parted slowly, cool air kissing my spine. When he reached the middle of my back he slid both rough palms inside the open dress, spreading them wide over my ribs, then higher.
“Jesus Christ, baby. These heavy tits have been teasing me for months.” His hands cupped the sides of my breasts through the built-in bra, lifting their considerable weight. I gasped as his thumbs found my nipples and rubbed slow circles. “So fucking soft. So much woman. My woman.”