I take off my shirt before ripping off hers, the feel of her skin on mine sending me into a state of ecstasy. She rolls her hips, and a small, strangled sigh leaves my lips.
Looking down at the small space between us. Amara takes a sip, swallowing it this time, but before she puts the glass back down, she spills some on me.
“What the—” it’s cold, but when Amara dips down, her tongue running up my ab muscles and onto my chest. My body instantly feels like it’s on fire.
“Holy shit, you’re a dream,” I tell her, watching her drop to her knees in front of me.
Without a word, she unbuttons my pants, and with my help, she gets them down my legs, my cock springing out of my boxers.
Amara licks her lips, and before I can tell her she doesn’t have to, her fingers are wrapped around it, turning slightly as she strokes me.
“Holy fuck—” I whimper, throwing my head back.
But it’s nothing compared to her warm lips wrapping around the tip of my cock, her eyes watching me intensely as she lowers herself until I hit the back of her throat. A moan rips out of me, and I fist her hair, pulling her back as she gags on my length.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“You can take it, can’t you, Sweetheart?” I purr, watching pure, unbridled passion flash in her eyes.
Amara’s tongue juts out to swirl around my tip, and I suck in an unsteady breath, my hips nearly coming off the seat. She looks down, studying her work.
“No,” I say breathlessly, “Eyes on me.”
I watch as her hand grips me as I fuck her mouth, and when I feel the familiar pressure building, I nearly curse.
“You’re doing so fucking good, Sweetheart. God, I’m about to come. Can you open your mouth for me?”
Without question, Amara sits back on her knees, her mouth open with her tongue out as I stroke myself, trying not to let my eyes roll back so I can watch her take my come on her tongue.
My body tenses as I come, and Amara laps it up like she’s been desperate for it for decades. Her eyes never leave mine as she licks her lips, cleaning up every little bit of it.
There’s something so dirty, yet perfect about the act, and somehow, I’m nearly ready to go again.
But for now, I’ve got other ideas.
Pushing her slightly, she plops down on the couch, watching me with curiosity as I pull off her pants.
I lick my lips, sitting between her legs as I look at the feast in front of me. “Remember that time I stayed in your guest room?” I ask her, holding her fiery gaze.
Her breathing is labored as she nods, biting her lip.
“I heard you that night.”
I watch as realization dawns on her.
“The whimpers. The sighs.” I smirk. “Show me what you were doing to yourself, Sweetheart.”
Her eyes close, her fingers instantly tracing her skin, light as a feather, until they reach her clit.
“Just like that, Amara. But I want you to look at me while you touch yourself.”
Her eyes are clouded with lust as they meet mine, and I watch as her back arches, her perfect tits in the air as her fingers circle her clit, her breathing stilted.
I thought she couldn’t look more perfect than she did on our wedding day, but I was so wrong.
“What were you thinking about that night?” I ask, nearly panting. She’s taken my breath away.
“I wanted you,” she moans, her mouth hanging open as her eyebrows pull together. Her hair splays around her like a halo.
