Wendy’s nails scrape down my back as I keep rolling my hips, thrusting in and out of heaven, and I feel it building inside of me.
"I'm gonna come—"
"Come in me," she cries out.
I'm gone after that.
“Fuck, baby!”
The orgasm rushes over me from head to toe as I reach down to grasp her hips and pull her as I push in, trying to extend the orgasm for as long as I can.
I lay on top of her, catching my breath as the orgasm subsides, and Wendy trails her hands up and down my back.
I turn my head toward her, pressing kisses to her neck, her jaw, licking the salty sweat from her skin. She turns to me and connects our mouths, and we share long, lazy kisses.
After a few minutes of kissing my wife, her breasts pressed against my chest, with my come dripping out of her pussy, I start getting hard again.
She feels it and laughs, her voice breathless. "Again?"
"I told you, I'm gonna fuck you and fuck you and fuck you—" I punctuate eachfuck youwith a thrust of my hips, loving her soft, breathy moans.
I lean down to catch her nipple in my mouth, firmly sucking before I pull off with a pop. "Until I've made up for lost time."
She giggles and pushes me, rolling us to switch our positions so she's on top.
"Let me fuckyouthis time then..." she says, rolling her hips and making my eyes go blind for a second.
I have to blink a few times to clear my vision, because my wife riding my cock, beautiful tits bouncing as she tosses her head back and moans, is a sight I don't want to miss.
I moan as her pussy squeezes me, every roll of her hips fucking euphoric.
"Ride me, baby. Show me who I belong to..."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Atlas
Wendy and I are still technically separated.
But, after last night—after waking up in our bed, in our home, wrapped around my wife—I want to move back in here more than anything.
Last night, after Wendy rode me until we both came, we laid boneless until the sticky feeling of our skin became too uncomfortable.
I carried my wife into the shower, where she allowed me to clean and worship her gorgeous body. I used her favorite body wash and gently washed her.
I took her shampoo and tipped her head under the spray before gently scrubbing and massaging her scalp until she was purring.
I even washed her face for her and kissed every single freckle like I was committing them to memory again.
Wendy's eyes were shimmering when she looked at me after, and I could feel my own welling up in response.
For some reason, cleaning and caring for her like that felt even more intimate than the mind blowing sex we just had.
I gently dried her body and hair with a towel, then wrapped her in her plush robe. She brushed her teeth, grabbing an extra one out of the linen closet.
I didn't want to read too much into it when she handed it to me, but my chest still tightened with hope. It's kind of funny to miss something so mundane as brushing my teeth side by side with my wife.
We didn't even speak once, just moved in sync with eachother, as we have for two decades.
