Clay heads to the kitchen to make us drinks, before we cuddle up on the couch together, sipping hot chocolates. I like to joke that my husband is a sweet-tooth convert thanks to me. He even likes birthday cake now.
“What time are we leaving?” I ask, nuzzling against his chest.
“Soon, baby. Brewer said to be there for six.”
I nod, smiling to myself. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither. Never thought I’d be an uncle.”
We’re meeting Connor for the first time today—Brewer and Josie’s baby boy. My best friend finally got her “Lumbersnack”, and now she’s happily married to Clay’s brother, living in a cabin not far from here. I get to see her all the time. Heck, we were still getting lunch at Mountain Brew every afternoon right upuntil the day she went into labor, and I’m excited to restart the tradition soon.
It’s not long before Clay and I are back in the truck, heading for Brewer and Josie’s cabin. My phone chimes with a text as we drive, and I see Grandma’s name pop up.
See you at the party tomorrow, honey!
I smile as I reply.
Can’t wait! ??
My Grandma’s birthday parties are still as busy as ever, but they’re much less overwhelming now Clay and I aren’t fake dating. After we got together for real, we came clean to my grandma and told her the full story. She wasn’t mad at me for lying. Heck, when Clay told her that we met when I hit him with his car, Grandma said it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.
We’re about five minutes from the cabin when Clay turns left instead of right, pulling up at the edge of the forest. My heart flutters as I look at him, moonlight catching the rugged angles of his face.
“Why are we stopping?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Come here, sugar.”
“We’re going to be late…”
“Not if I make you come fast.”
I shiver at his words, a thrill of desire running up my spine at the hunger in his eyes. Ever since our first time together, Clay has been insatiable.
“We shouldn’t,” I protest weakly as I glance at the time on the dash.
“I need to have you, buttercup. Right now.”
His hands are already roaming my body—snaking up my skirt—and all my resistance crumbles like a sandcastle.
“You’re impossible,” I tell him breathlessly.
“Only for you.”
Then he’s kissing me, lips firm against mine, his beard rough on my skin as he pulls me onto his lap. I never get tired of kissing my husband. He tastes like musk and whiskey, deliciously familiar, and my heart quivers as he grabs my ass, grinding me against him until sparks of pleasure zip through me.
“Ready to show me how fast you can come?” he growls.
I gasp in response, already wet as I straddle his lap. My body responds to him instinctively, thighs slick beneath my skirt as Clay reaches down between us, unzipping his pants and inching down his boxers just enough for his cock to pop free. I reach between my legs and tug the wet fabric of my panties aside as Clay lines himself up with my entrance, making me shudder as the fat tip of his cock pokes against my hole. I clasp his shoulders for balance and sink onto him with a toe-curling moan.
“Fuck, sugar, that’s it.”
I’ll never get over my husband’s size. He still makes my eyes water every time, hitting spots so deep inside me that I instantly see stars.
“I give it less than a minute ‘til you come,” Clay grunts.
“Is that…a challenge?”
“No, sugar.” His eyes flash dangerously. “It’s a promise.”
