“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” I babble against his lips.
He groans into my kiss, his tongue spearing deep, just like his cock. Fucking my mouth and my pussy and my entire body.
“Yes, please, more,” I beg, still riding the climax, and I’m clamping down on him, and he’s clutching at me, thrusting hard.
Groaning.
Stopping.
“I need to pull out,” he growls.
I wrap my legs around him, becausenooo, I don’t want him to ever leave my body. That stretchis too good.
And then he’s pulsing.
“Fuck, I—You?—”
I can feel it. He’s flooding me, deep inside, and there’s nothing between us. Nothing at all. “It’s okay,” I pant. “Please don’t pull out.”
There’s a beat of hesitation, and then he buries his face in my neck and groans again. “Never. You feel so good.”
We cling to each other, pulses pounding, skin sweat slicked and extra sensitive.
Then I ask, “Is this going to be really messy?”
He laughs and nods. “Yeah, baby.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats, slightly disbelieving, and then we’re both laughing, and it is messy, so messy, but he cleans me up, and then he cleans up my kitchen, and much later, when he’s tucked me into bed and I’m almost asleep with my head on his bare chest, my fingers playing in the lovely hair on his chest, I think about what a silly thing that is to say.
Okay.
But it’s also so simple that it’s perfect.
Okay.
In all my fantasizing about a white picket fence and a marriage and a spouse, I didn’t get granular enough to think about what sex might be like with my husband, not really. Other than I wanted it to be special, of course.
But to have it feel that good and be thatpowerful and then end in laughter and a simple, sweet agreement…
I know that I’ve chosen well.
“You’re smiling,” he says drowsily. “I can feel your cheek moving against my chest.”
“I’m happy,” I whisper back. “So happy.”
CHAPTER 17
JEFF
“Call in sick.”
Molly stares at me. “I’ve only worked at this job for a few months.”
“I’m very aware. But you’re amazing at it, and nobody is going to care if you skip today.” I take her hands in mine. “It’s my only day off in two weeks. I want to spend time with you. I want to show you my house. I want to take you shopping.”
“For what?”
