Kelsey was soaking wet, the taste of her taking me back to that first time, in my Bronco, out on some country road. I’d shoved her teal homecoming dress up around her waist and crouched just outside the open driver’s side door, with no fucking clue what I was doing. I just remember trying to move my tongue like I’d seen guys at the clubhouse do with the club whores, using her sounds to guide me.
Her fingers threaded through the still-damp strands of my hair, roughly tugging it loose from the leather tie. The pain grounded me, reminded me this was real—not another dream where I woke up alone, reaching for someone who wasn’t there.
I slipped two fingers inside her tight pussy, curling them up to find that spot that had always made her lose her mind. Her nails bit intomy scalp as she pulled my face closer, her thighs snapping around my head like a vise.
She tried to bite down on the sounds she made, but the combination of my tongue and fingers coaxed little gasping moans from her throat.
“That’s it, Kels. Been too fucking long since I heard you make that sound,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in.
The combination of my tongue and fingers had her riding my face, her hips moving in desperate little circles. Several times, I had to grip her leg with my free hand to keep her from sliding right off the island.
Less than a minute in, and her thighs were already shaking, the telltale tension a sign that she was close.
But I wanted to draw it out until she was desperate for it, until the counter beneath her was flooded. Until she knew without a doubt that she was the center of my whole world.
Always had been. Always would be.
I eased back, blowing a cool stream of air over the lips of her pussy, watching her jerk in response. Her fingers tightened in my hair, trying to guide me back, but I resisted, pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs instead.
“Teddy,” she whimpered, and Christ, the desperation in her voice nearly undid me. “Please, I need?—”
“I know what you need, baby.” I traced lazy circles around her clit with my thumb, not quite giving her what she wanted. “But we’re not rushing this like you do with everything else.”
“I don’t—” Her protest died when I dragged my tongue through her folds again before pulling back.
“You do,” I insisted. “Always moving on to the next thing before you’ve finished the first. But not this time. This time, you’re gonna take what I give you when I give it to you.”
Kelsey growled in response, bucking her hips to try to chase the friction. I held her down with my forearm across her lower belly, keeping her pinned while I worked her with deliberate, maddening slowness.
“I hate you,” she panted, but her fingers tightened in my hair, holding me exactly where she wanted me.
“No, you don’t.” I pumped a single finger into her before bringing it to my lips. “God, you taste so fucking good. Could keep you like this all afternoon. You’d love that, wouldn’t you, baby?”
Instead of answering, she slid a hand up over her belly to cup her breast, hissing out a breath when her fingers closed around the peak of her nipple.
My dick throbbed painfully against my zipper, demanding attention I wasn’t about to give it.
Not yet.
This was about her—about making her feel cherished, desired, worshipped in a way I’d failed to do for far too long.
“Whatcha doin’, Kels?” I asked, palming myself through my jeans in an attempt to talk my dick down.
“Playing,” she said innocently.
“Keep going,” I rasped, my voice barely recognizable.
Her eyes met mine, heavy-lidded and glazed with lust, before she rolled her nipple between her thumb and index finger. A low moan spilled from her lips, vibrating through my entire body.
The need to kiss her again burned through me, but I held myself in check, content to watch as she touched herself for me.
If I’d had any lingering doubts about whether she still wanted me, the way she touched herself—open, unafraid, a little smug about it—obliterated them. Before the kids came along, she’d always liked putting on a show, knowing nothing brought me to my knees faster.
It didn’t matter where we were, either. She’d once climbed onto my lap during a 4th of July cookout at the clubhouse under the guise of watching the fireworks. The woman had spread her pretty little gingham sundress across my lap and chatted away with some of the other Ol’ Ladies seated nearby, all while working the head of my dick in and out of her pussy just to see how long I’d last.
I plunged three fingers back into her body, and she released a string of words, bucking wildly against my hand.
Nothing in the world quite like hearing your ex-wife, the woman who’d had you by the balls since high school, moaning your name.
