Letting go of her breasts, I unbutton her jeans. She shimmies out of them, then goes back to rocking her soaking wet center against my lap. A damp spot forms on my slacks, and I’m tempted to never dry clean these pants again. Dipping my fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, I drag them through her soaking slit, coating them instantly in her slippery wetness. “Are you sure about that? It sure as hell feels like we want the same thing right now.”
Mira lifts her hips enough for me to push two fingers inside her hot little pussy, and she whines with pleasure at the intrusion. “Of course I want you. I’m not dead. But wanting to fuck you isn’t enough to base a marriage on.”
I pump my fingers in and out of her faster, fighting my irritation at her words. “You don’t only want to fuck me, sunshine. You like spending time with me. You like living with me. I make you feel safe and special.”
“Y-you do,” she stammers, confusion flickering across her features. “But that’s because we’re friends.”
“Is it?” I ask, adding a third finger and enjoying the way her eyes roll back in her head. I want to make her fall apart. To scream my name. So I pull my fingers out of her and flip us so she’s lying with her back on the couch. Desperate to taste her, I rip Mira’s panties off and throw them onto the floor. Using my shoulders, I push my wife’s thighs apart before spreading her pussy open with my fingers. She’s swollen and wet, and I want her sweet musk to invade my senses. “We’re just friends?”
“Y-yes.”
I look up at her from between the juncture of her thighs and grin wickedly. “Really? If we were just friends, would your pussy be dripping with need for me?” Maintaining eye contact, I flick my tongue out and lap at her slit, her clit, and then I spear her fluttering pussy with it. Mira moans, her back arching. I fuck her with my tongue before suckling her clit.
“If we were just friends, would you let me eat your juicy cunt? Would you moan like a pretty little slut desperate for more?”
“Griffin…” She’s conflicted. I watch it play out across her features. She wants me, but she’s not ready to admit it to herself. Even though it’s not what I hoped would happen, I can be patient. I’m playing the long game, and I’m playing to win.
“Fight this all you want, wife, but you know we’re inevitable. We fit perfectly, and one of these days, you won’t be too scared to admit it.”
“I’m not scared,” she says breathlessly.
“You are.” I’m scared too. How can I not be? But waking up married to this woman was a gift of fate, and I won’t waste this chance, scared or not. “That’s okay. You can be scared, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here, worshipping at your altar, until you can admit to yourself what I already know.”
“And what’s that?” She mewls as I circle her clit with my tongue.
“That I was made for you. That I can make you happy.” I push two fingers inside of her while I continue to lap at her clit, grinning when her back bows off the couch. “But most importantly, Mira? That I’m all in, and I willneverwalk away from you. For as long as you’ll allow me to be in your life, I willneverleave. Not ever.”
Her breath hitches and her lower lip trembles, but she doesn’t say a word. That’s okay. Words are overrated. It’s actions that matter. So I lower my mouth to her pussy and show herwith every flick of my tongue how much I want her. I show her again and again until tears stream down her face and her body convulses with pleasure. Then I carry her to the bathroom, draw her a bath, and show her I care in yet another way.
I’ll prove she can trust me. I’ll prove that I can take care of her.
Whatever it takes.
eighteen
MIRA
“Shit.”Water splashes around me as I sit up in the massive jacuzzi tub.
Griffin smooths my hair away from my neck and presses a lingering kiss there. “What’s wrong?”
You steal all my sense every time we’re together and it’s only getting worse the closer we grow.
“My stupid car broke down, and I forgot all about it with all the”—I wave my hands around haphazardly—“distractions when I got home.”
Griffin’s body vibrates against my bare skin as he laughs, pulling my back against his chest where I’ve been snuggled since he washed my hair.
He washed my hair.
No guy has ever done that for me, and I can confidently say it was one of the most erotic, intimate moments of my life. Between the orgasms and the bath, is it any wonder I got distracted?
“Distractions, huh? Is that what we’re calling multiple orgasms these days?”
He sounds so self-satisfied. I want to be annoyed, but I can’t be. Because yeah, Griffin gave me multiple orgasms. Multiplepowerfulorgasms without asking for anything in return or letting me wrap my lips around his cock. Only an idiot would truly complain about something like that. Though I did want his dick, and he only gave me his mouth.
Stupid rule. I know he wants me to give in and agree to be his wife forever. He wants me to call him my husband and tell our families and friends that we’re married and in love.
In love.
