“Spread for me,” Noah orders, throwing his glasses on the couch. His white shirt is open at the collar, sleeves rolled up, hair messed up from our heavy kissing in the car, a walking sex symbol.
“Show me how wet you are.” His gaze dark with desire, he dips down and suckles my neck while his fingers plunge into me.
All thoughts of any conversation gone, I hike one leg over his hips, straddling his thigh to ease my need. I might come just looking at his corded nape flexing as he dips deeper, giving my nipple a bite through the fabric.
“Surprised that little dress of yours isn’t soaked through.”
It’s been a concern of mine, too, but not anymore. “You like that dress?” I whisper in his ear, wanting him to talk dirty to me.
He grunts as he lifts his head back up, lust hotter than I’ve ever seen. “Such a fucking tease.” With anxious hands he pulls on my updo, hairpins flying out, then kneads my head, combs through my hair with strong fingers, inhaling it with a touch of mad obsession.
My fingers fumble with his leather belt, my pussy clenching at the sound of the pant zipper I pull down, freeing his bobbing cock. Finally holding him in my hand, I stroke him, my thumb pad wiping precum. I give him a last stroke, then lock eyes with him as I lick my thumb.
He jerks my hand out of my mouth and gathers my wrists above my head. “Spread for me.” I hike my leg higher on him. His jaw grazes my forehead, shivers from his stubble running down my spine. His breath is labored. “That’s my good little wife. Take it,” he says as he enters me, his heat and friction making my knees weak. “Take your husband deep.”
“Harder, Noah, harder.”
Something dangerous passes through his gaze. “Careful what you wish for.” Something I could get addicted to.
“P-please.”
He cups my throat in a careful hand. “Yeah, beg for me, little wife. Beg.” His thumb rakes my ear, his palm clenching for an answer.
“Please fuck me harder,” I whisper, straining to keep my eyes open to watch his desire, hisneedfor me.
He rams into me, neck tense, jaw set, beads of sweat pearling on his forehead. “Such a sweet, sweet, cunt.” With his free hand he unzips my dress. “Greedylittle cunt.” Then he cups my ass, the fabric of the dress messing with our connection.
The tear of fabric.
He pulls himself back an inch or two, looks down at my naked body wrapped around his, shreds of my dress on the floor. “That’s better.”
He’s still fully clothed, dress pants straining at his hips, formal shirt clinging to his sweaty torso as he fists my hair, pulling my mouth to his. “God I love how you taste,” he murmurs. “I love everything about you.”
“Babe,” I blabber. My orgasm is so strong it strikes me like lightning, arches my back, stretches my legs, interminable seconds of high-strung pleasure followed by the softest mellowing.
Limbs like cotton, mind checked out, I feel Noah carrying me to the bed.
“Fuck, that was beautiful.” He fans my hair around my face on the pillow.
With weak hands, I start to unbutton his shirt. He sits up. “Let me,” I say, sitting up to face him. “Let me undress my husband.” Making quick work of the rest of the buttons, I run my hands on his torso, from his pecs down to the dusting of hair. I press one finger on him and he lets himself fall back, hands behind his head, a small smile on his face. He toes his shoes off while I get him quickly entirely naked, then kiss my way up his thighs.
My mouth closes on his dick, and he hisses. “I’m not gonna last long,” he says.
I lock eyes with him. “Then let’s make it count. I heard someone liked my ass,” I say as I straddle him reverse cowgirl.
“Ah fuck, babe.” He grabs my butt cheeks in his hands, then sits up to grope my breasts. His mouth comes down. “On your knees,” he orders.
That’s fast becoming my favorite three words.
The mattress dips beside me as the aroma of coffee dispels my dreams. I open an eye and see Noah in pajama pants, the Mrs. Callaway mug of coffee in his hand, lid off, that dusting of hair on his stomach teasing me awake. “Hey,” I say, smiling.
“Hey yourself.” He places the coffee on the nightstand and kisses me softly, then brings me against his chest, stroking my hair on my bare back. “You okay?” he asks, his voice unsteady.
I look up at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
His eyes seem to search something in my gaze. “I don’t know—I… the wedding… yesterday…” He blinks sadness away. “I wish I’d given you that.”
I cup his face, stroking his stubble, the pad of my thumb on his lower lip. “Noah… You’ve given me so much more. Do you know how much it means to me that you let me hold you at night? That you’re trusting me with the family store?” I’m so absurdly happy that he has a tight prenup which gives me absolutely no right in the estate. I love Noah for who he is, not what he has. I don’t care about things. More often than not, they come between people. “You gave me a whole family, and your heart. I never dared dream of that.”
