The wedding gifts were still stacked in corners of the apartment, half of them not even opened yet. Charlie had carried the last box in three days ago and his back was finally recovering. The marriage license sat framed on the kitchen counter because Zaria thought it was funny to display it like a diploma. In a way, it was. They'd graduated from two years of dating and a whole lot of self-restraint into something that felt permanent and real and still slightly unbelievable.
Charlie was in the bedroom, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed, waiting. He'd told Zaria to put on something she wanted to dance in. That was twenty minutes ago. He could hear her rummaging through the closet, muttering to herself, pulling things out and tossing them back.
"Take your time," he called, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I want it to be right," she called back, her voice small and a little nervous.
It would be right. Everything with Zaria was right, even when it was clumsy. Especially when it was clumsy.
She emerged in a black bralette that struggled honestly against her breasts, the fabric pulling tight across her chest, and a matching thong that sat high on her hips and made her ass look like something sculpted. She was petite everywhere else—tight waist, toned legs, that fit little body she'd built through years of consistent gym sessions. Her skin was warm brown and glowing from the lotion she'd apparently put on while getting ready. Her hair fell past her shoulders. She looked just like Charlie wanted her to. Perfect.
Charlie didn't say anything at first. He just looked at her. Let her feel the weight of his attention.
Zaria shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a small smile forming. "Are you ready?
"Yes."
She hit the speaker on the dresser with her fingertips and something slow and heavy with bass filled the room. She started moving—not professionally, not like a performer, but like a woman who wanted her husband to lose his mind. She rolled her hips, turned around, bent forward just enough to show the curve of her ass and the thin strip of fabric between her cheeks. She looked back over her shoulder at him. “Do I look good daddy?”
"You look incredible.” Charlie said quietly.
“I just want to be perfect for you.”
“Good girl”
Her eyes lit up. That was the thing about Zaria—those two words could change her entire demeanor. She moved closer, swaying, her hands running up her own sides, cupping her breasts from underneath and pushing them together. The bralette looked like it was fighting a losing battle. Charlie could see the outline of her nipples pressing through the fabric, hard already.
"Come here," he said.
She stepped forward, standing between his legs where he leaned against the dresser. He reached up and traced his thumb along her neck, then down over the swell of her breast. She inhaled sharply.
"We've been married for a week," she said, grinning.
"And I haven't learned everything about you yet." His hand slid around to the back of her neck, fingers curling into her hair. "That's a problem I plan to fix tonight."
"Yes daddy," she whispered, her lips parting.
Charlie pulled her down gently by the back of her neck and kissed her. Slow. Deliberate. His tongue slid against hers and she made a small sound into his mouth, her body going soft against his chest. He could feel her heart beating fast through her breasts pressed against him. He kissed her deeper, his free hand gripping her waist, then sliding down to her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp.
"God, you're perfect," he said against her lips.
"Thank you daddy."
"Get on your knees."
She dropped immediately. No hesitation, no questions. She was on the floor in front of him, looking up with those big brown eyes, her hands resting on his thighs. Charlie pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Zaria's eyes moved over his abs, his chest, the defined lines of his arms. He kept himself in ridiculous shape and she never got tired of looking at him.
He unbuttoned his jeans, pulled the zipper down slowly. Zaria watched his hands like she was waiting for a gift to be unwrapped. He pushed his jeans and boxer briefs down together, his dick already half hard, thick and heavy. Zaria's mouth opened slightly, her tongue running across her bottom lip.
"Can I?" she asked.
"You know you don't have to ask. But I like that you do."
She reached up and wrapped her hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. He hardened fully under her touch, growing in her grip. She leaned forward and licked a long, slow stripe from the bottom to the top, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Charlie exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening.
"Good girl. Slow."
She obeyed. She took the head into her mouth first, her lips sealing around it, tongue swirling in a slow circle. Then she moved down, taking more of him, inch by inch, her mouth warm and wet and eager. She pulled back, then moved down again, establishing a rhythm that was unhurried and deliberate. She used her hand on the part she couldn't reach, stroking in time with her mouth.
Charlie's hand found her hair again, not pushing, just resting there. Guiding gently. "That's it. Just like that."
She hummed around him in response and the vibration made his hips twitch forward slightly. She took it, didn't pull back, just adjusted and kept going. Saliva gathered at the corners of her mouth, making everything slick. She pulled back to breathe, stroking him with her wet hand, looking up.
"Am I doing good daddy?"
"You're doing so good baby."
She smiled and took him back into her mouth, deeper this time, her throat relaxing around him. She gagged slightly and pulled back, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his dick. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grinned.
"Sorry daddy, I'm still learning."
"You're doing perfect. Stand up for me."
She stood, and he spun her around so she faced the dresser mirror. He unclasped her bralette from behind, peeling it off her shoulders. Her breasts spilled free—full, heavy, her nipples dark and stiff. He cupped them from behind, weighing them in his hands, thumbs brushing over her nipples. Zaria's head fell back against his chest.
"Fuck, your hands feel good."
He pinched her nipples gently, rolling them between his fingers, and she let out a moan that sounded almost surprised. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, while his hands continued to explore. Then he slid one hand down her stomach, over the front of her thong, and felt the wetness soaking through the thin fabric.
"You're already this wet?"
"I've been wet since you told me to dance," she admitted.
He pushed her thong aside and slid two fingers through her folds, feeling how slick she was. She was drenched. He circled her clit slowly and her knees buckled slightly. He held her up with his other arm around her waist.
"Stand up. Don't drop."
"Yes daddy, I'm sorry."
He walked her forward to the bed, his fingers still between her legs, and bent her over the edge. He pulled her thong down, leaving it at her ankles. She stepped out of it. He knelt behind her, his hands gripping her ass, spreading her open. He could see everything—her pussy glistening, swollen, practically dripping.
He leaned in and ran his tongue from her clit to her opening, tasting her. She grabbed the sheets and moaned into the mattress.
"Oh fuck, daddy—"
He slid his fingers deeper, curling them just right, pressing up into that hidden, spongy patch inside her. She gasped, a broken little sound, as he found it—that spot that made her whole world narrow to the pressure of his touch. He kept his palm pressed against her clit while his fingertips stroked and massaged her g-spot in slow, firm circles. Her inner walls fluttered around him, hot and velvety, clinging to his fingers like she never wanted to let go.
“Oh god, your fingers—right there, daddy, yes—”
He kept two fingers inside her, the stretch perfect, and watched her pussy take him deep. The wet sounds filled the room, slick and obscene, as he worked that spot over and over. She was so tight, so responsive, her body giving him everything. He could feel every ridge, every pulse, and he knew exactly how to make her fall apart.
"Right there, right there, please don't stop—"
"Good girl. Come for me."
He kept his rhythm steady, his mouth on her clit, his fingers pressing and curling inside her. She got louder, her moans coming in quick bursts, her thighs shaking. And then she broke—her whole body tensed, she cried out, and he felt her clench around his fingers. A rush of wetness flooded his hand and mouth. She squirted, hard, against his chin and chest, and he didn't pull back. He kept his mouth on her, licking through it, swallowing what he could, his face wet with her.
"Oh my god, oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry daddy—"
"Don't apologize for that. That's exactly what I wanted."
She was trembling, her legs barely holding her up. He stood and turned her around, laying her back on the bed. Her thighs were slick, her pussy flushed and swollen. He crawled between her legs and kissed her inner thigh, tasting the mess she'd made.
"You came in my mouth," he said, almost to himself.
"That was so embarrassing," she whispered, covering her face with her hands.
He pulled her hands away gently. "Look at me."
She looked. Her eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed.
"That was the hottest thing I've ever experienced. Don't ever be embarrassed about that."
"I love you," she said, her voice cracking slightly.
"I love you too. I'm not done with you yet."
He positioned himself between her legs, the head of his dick pressing against her entrance. She was so wet that he slid in with one slow thrust, filling her completely. They both exhaled at the same time—a shared breath, a shared feeling. He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust, feeling her pulse around him.
"You feel so big," she whispered. "You feel so fucking big inside me."
"Good. Take it."
He started moving, slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in. She wrapped her legs around him, her heels digging into his lower back. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, and he couldn't stop looking at them—the way they moved, heavy and full, her nipples hard and dark.
"Play with them," she said, reading his mind. "Please play with my titties daddy."
He leaned forward, taking one nipple into his mouth while he continued to thrust. She grabbed the back of his head, holding him against her breast, moaning loud enough that the neighbors definitely heard. He switched to the other side, sucking and biting gently, and her nails raked down his back.
"Harder," she said. "Fuck me harder."
He picked up the pace, driving into her with more force. The sound of their bodies meeting was wet and obscene—her pussy was so soaked that every thrust made a slick, slapping sound. She was loud, calling out his name, saying yes and please and daddy in a stream of words that barely formed sentences.
"Yes, right there, fuck, Charlie, right there—"
"Good girl. Come again for me."
"I'm close, I'm so close, please can I come, please—"
"Come."
She shattered, her whole body seizing as the pleasure rolled through her in deep, consuming waves. Every inch of his length filled her completely, the thick ridge of him dragging against that perfect spot inside until she saw stars. He stretched her so perfectly—full and deep, the kind of fullness that made her forget her own name. Her pussy clenched around him in desperate, fluttering pulses, gripping him like she couldn’t bear to let go. He felt impossibly hard, velvet heat wrapped in steel, and every thrust sent sparks of pleasure radiating through her belly and down her thighs. She screamed into the pillow, then pulled it away because she wanted him to hear every broken cry. He fucked her through it, not slowing down, and the orgasm stretched out for what felt like a full minute—her body milking him, soaking him, trembling around the beautiful thickness of him. When she finally relaxed, she was panting, her chest heaving.
"Thank you daddy," she breathed. "Thank you, thank you."
He kissed her forehead, then pulled out. "On your hands and knees."
She rolled over immediately, presenting herself. Her ass was perfect—round and firm, the kind that made you want to grab it and never let go. He gripped her hips and entered her from behind, and the new angle made her cry out. He could see everything in this position—her pussy stretching around him, her ass bouncing with each thrust, the wetness coating both of them.
"Fuck, you look incredible," he said.
"I love your dick, I love it so much, you feel so good inside me—"
He reached around and found her clit with his fingers, rubbing in circles while he fucked her. She dropped to her elbows, face in the mattress, ass high in the air. The sounds she was making were primal—gasping, moaning, whimpering. The whimper melted into a shuddering sigh as the pleasure pooled deep in her belly, a liquid heat that spread outward until her skin tingled with it. It felt so good she could barely breathe, every nerve lit up and singing, her body floating on a wave of pure, helpless bliss that made her toes curl and her mind go soft and hazy.
"Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna come again—"
"Come for me. Third time."
She shattered again, her pussy gripping him so tight he almost lost it himself. He held back, gritting his teeth, letting her ride through it. More wetness gushed around him, dripping down both their thighs. She was shaking, her arms barely supporting her.
"I can't—I need a second—"
"You can take more. I know you can."
"Yes daddy," she said, her voice muffled by the sheets. "Whatever you want."
He pulled out and flipped her onto her back again, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder. He entered her sideways, the angle hitting something new, and her eyes went wide.
"Oh fuck, that's different, that's—oh god—"
He slammed into her harder now, each stroke a wet, filthy clap that echoed through the room. Her tits bounced wildly, nipples pebbled tight, and her face was pure happiness—lips parted around desperate little mewls, eyes glazed and drunk on his cock. "Yes, daddy, fuck yes, right there, oh god, you're so deep—thank you, thank you—"
"That's my good girl. Take every inch." He gripped her thigh tighter, angling her hips up so he could watch himself disappear into her soaked, swollen pussy. The sight was obscene—her slick coating him, strings of it snapping with every thrust, her clit a hard little pearl begging for attention. "You're dripping down my balls, baby. You love being this wet for me?"
"I love it, I love your cock, I love being your messy little slut—please don't stop, please, I'll be so good—"
"You're so wet," he said. "You're making a mess everywhere."
"You made me a mess," she said back, attempting a grin. "You turned me into a mess."
"Good."
He leaned down and kissed her, still thrusting, swallowing her moans. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close, her body completely pliant under his. He could feel her getting close again—the way she tightened around him, the way her breathing changed.
"Can I come again? Please?"
"Come for me. One more."
She came a fourth time, quieter than the others—a deep, shuddering orgasm that rolled through her body in waves. She held onto him, her face buried in his neck, whimpering as it peaked and slowly faded. He stayed inside her, barely moving, letting her feel the fullness while she recovered.
"I love you so much," she whispered against his skin.
"I love you too. More than anything."
He pulled out slowly and sat back on his knees. His dick was throbbing, aching—he'd been holding back for what felt like an eternity. Zaria looked up at him, her hair a mess, her makeup smeared, her body glistening with sweat and her own wetness. She looked completely wrecked and absolutely beautiful.
"You haven't come yet," she said, noticing.
"Not yet."
"Can I—will you let me?" She sat up, eager. "I want to make you come. Please daddy, let me make you come."
"Open your mouth."
She did, immediately, kneeling in front of him, mouth open, tongue out, looking up at him with those big eyes. He stroked himself a few times—fast, deliberate—and she waited, perfectly still, willing and ready.
"Good girl. Swallow all of it."
"Yes daddy, I promise, I'll swallow every drop—"
He came hard. The first pulse hit her tongue, and she closed her mouth around the head, taking the rest of it in her mouth, her throat working as she swallowed. He groaned, his hand in her hair, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. She took it all, her lips sealed around him, her eyes never leaving his. When he finally finished, she pulled back slowly, opening her mouth to show him it was empty, then swallowing one more time for emphasis.
"Good girl," he breathed. "That's my good girl."
"Thank you daddy," she said, and then she grinned—wide and genuine and slightly proud of herself. "Did I do good?"
He laughed, pulling her up into his arms and falling back onto the bed with her. She curled against his chest, her head tucked under his chin, her body still trembling occasionally with aftershocks. He could feel her heartbeat against his ribs, fast and gradually slowing.
"You did more than good. You were incredible."
"I love you, husband."
"I love you too, wife."
She traced a circle on his chest with her fingertip. "So... how many times was that for me?"
"Four."
"Four." She said it like she was impressed with herself. "I didn't even know I could do four."
"Now you know."
"Charlie?"
"Yeah?"
"We're going to do this every night, right? As a married couple thing?"
He laughed again, kissing the top of her head. "Every single night. It's in the vows somewhere, I'm pretty sure."
"Good. Because I think we need more practice." She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him with a mischievous smile. "I need to learn how to do five."
He groaned, pulling her back down against him. "Give me ten minutes."
"Five," she corrected.
"Five minutes. You're going to be the death of me."
"Yes, but what a way to go, right daddy?"
He could already feel her hand drifting down his stomach, her fingers wrapping around him again, and he thought—married life was going to be absolutely exhausting and absolutely perfect.