“Fuck you, sweetheart.”
Warm hands run through my hair, fingernails scratching over my scalp. Tor envelopes her arms around my neck and leans down to whisper, “It’s later.”
Covering her hand with mine, I turn my head to face her. “I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, then.”
It seems my wife is on a mission and one I’m all to happy to let her lead. I’m as hard as granite by the time she locks us inside one of the spare rooms.
She stands before me, slipping her finger under her dress strap and sliding it off of her shoulder, one by one. As usual, my old lady is bare of underwear. I should be angry about it but it’s not like anyone else knows. And if they’re thinking about what’s under my wife’s clothing, then I’ll show them why that’s a mistake.
“Why have you still got your clothes on, baby?” she purrs taking a step toward me.
Shrugging out of my cut, I hang it from the doorknob and whip my hoodie and tee over my head. I discard them on the floor and work my belt until my jeans and boxers are down around my feet and I’m stepping out of them.
There’s this smile she gets when we come together and I haven’t realised it till now, after not seeing it at all since River’s birth, that she wears just for me. This smile, it’s mine. It’s a thirst but confident I’m the water she needs to survive.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her body fully naked since the birth and like she was made to have my kids, she’s still as perfect. There are a few shimmering lines on the tops of her thighs and a couple on her lower stomach. If possible, I grow harder. They’re there because of me. I thought marrying her and knocking her up would be the final tie that bound her to me, but I was wrong.
My marks on her, as permanent as ink, are there for all fucking eternity. I step closer to her and lower myself down to my knees.
As hungry as I am to be inside her, I need her to not only see nothing has changed. I need her to feel it right down in the depths of her soul.
Tracing my fingertip over each one, I slap her hand away when she goes to cover them. I lick each one, slowly, drawing it out, hoping this is never a concern she will have. I kiss my way across her lower stomach and down to her pussy. Her fingers sink into my hair and grasp on tightly. A shuddery breathescapes her. I hook her leg over my shoulder and grin when I look up and her head is flung back knowing how good she’s about to feel.
“I’ve missed your tongue,” she says on a sigh. “So, so much.”
“We’ve got a lot of time to make up for. You ready?”
“Yes!” she hisses out as I trace her clit with my tongue.
There’s nothing about her that’s changed. If anything, she feels better in my arms now. Her skin is silkier. Smoother. There’s a little more to hold onto as I drive my tongue into her entrance. And her breasts, larger than normal but still fit perfectly in my hand. There is nothing about my wife that doesn’t have me obsessed with her.
3
Luca
Life goes on. That’s the saying and one I believe in. I’ve seen it myself throughout my life. Only this time, it’s too close to home. Life is moving on around her, but as much as she’s trying, she’s stuck in this moment of grief. I catch glimmers of my Tor, but they’re fleeting, and I find myself craving and chasing those fleeting moments. Needing them more and more. I’m not expecting her to get over it already. I know my wife, she’s all the sensitivity I’m not.
As I watch her sleep, her eyes move under her lids, and I wonder what she’s dreaming about. She’s not having a nightmare, that much I’m certain of, she’s peaceful.
Climbing out of bed, I pull on my jeans and grab my phone from the nightstand. Letting myself out of our room, I intend to go down to the kitchen and grab a beer. At the top of the stairs to the bar, I stop. Instead of grabbing a beer, I walk along the hall and unlock the door to Effie’s room.
Unlike my old lady, she’s not sleeping peacefully. Effie tosses and turns on the thin mattress. She doesn’t wake as I walk across the room. Crouching down on my knees, I watch her.
The urge to gauge out her eyes builds. The urge to slice her nose off builds. The urge to pull her teeth out builds.
Blinking away the images of her blood seeping out, I roughly grip onto her chin. She wakes instantly and her eyes widen with fear.
“You have till sunrise to tell me where Ford is, or I’ll kill you, and track him down myself.”
“You won’t kill me, not without knowing where he is.” Her confidence irritates me.
“Maybe if he had no one dropping off water and food, but he does. Whoever you’ve got checking in, doesn’t know you’re here.”
“If that’s what you want to believe, that’s on you.”
I laugh. It’s the only thing I can do. “Your audacity knows no bounds. Go on, tell me, what should I believe?”
“That there’s a reason there’s someone still checking in on Ford. You think my men don’t know where I am?”
