Her words cut off on a moan, long and low, and then her pussy was squeezing me so damn tight as she fell apart, I had no hope of holding out a second longer. Not when her cunt was pulsing around me, begging for every drop.
“Fuck, Willa. Gonna come so deep. Gonna fill you up, wife.”
I spilled inside her with a muffled groan against her neck, my hips jerking once…twice…before I finally stilled. Every muscle taut, every thought wiped clean from my mind except one.
Mine.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
LINCOLN
Lincoln:
You want to tell me why I had to hear about you being laid up in bed from Laurel and not my wife?
Willa:
Because it’s not that big of a deal.
Lincoln:
Not that big of a deal? Are you serious right now?
Willa:
I didn’t get run over by a tractor, Lincoln. I sneezed too hard while feeding the chickens. That’s not exactly a medical emergency.
Lincoln:
You sneezed and collapsed and somehow that’s supposed to be LESS alarming??
Willa:
I didn’t COLLAPSE! I just…folded over for a second.
Lincoln:
Laurel said you were walking like an injured pirate and now you’re on bed rest.
Willa:
Laurel is a teenager and thus incredibly dramatic. Also, it’s not bed rest. It’s just some mild horizontal recovery.
Lincoln:
You’re literally *in bed*. Not moving.
That’s the definition of bed rest, wife.
Willa:
It’s nothing some ibuprofen and an ice pack won’t fix.
Lincoln:
You say that like I don’t know you haven’t used either of those things.
Have you eaten today?
