Her hands are so soft, and so adorably small. That touch feels like fucking nirvana right now. I can’t even imagine what her pussy will feel like with emotions running this high, but I’m not going to wait to find out.
I pull my finger back from her clit and wrap that hand around the one of hers that’s currently stroking me halfway to heaven. I grip hers strongly to take control of the motion and move our hands, and what they're grasping, to line up with her entrance. Once I get the head of my cock inside of her, I pull my hand back and she does the same. She’s so fucking wet, so goddamn warm, I’m gonna have to be careful not to blow my load in the first twenty seconds here.
I work my hips gradually, giving her a couple inches before pulling back, giving her another couple inches and pulling back, over and over again until I’m seated all the way inside her. The noise she makes when I finally fill her might be my favorite sound on earth.
I’m doing everything I can not to lose control here, but the way I’m holding myself above her, feeling her nipples rubbing on my chest with each motion, hearing those sounds she’s making right into my ear, how goddamn tight she is around me, I’m not gonna be able to hold out long. But the good news is, I can tell she won’t either.
I lean down to put my mouth directly on her ear and tell her, “It’s been fucking months, Di. I need to feel you come around my dick, and now.”
I don’t give her any warning before I start pumping into her, hard, and I feel her walls clench around my shaft almost immediately. She’s moving her hips to meet me for every thrust, and with how good it feels to be inside her again—not just her pussy, which is fucking magnificent, by the way, but for her to actually let me back inside fully, in her head, her heart—I’m losing my grip on reality, fast.
She wraps her legs around my waist, urging me closer, deeper, faster with her movements. I feel her thighs start to shake, and she starts to clamp down around me. I move one hand back to that sensitive nub in between her legs and press down, moving my finger in those tight little circles that always send her over the edge.
It doesn’t take more than ten seconds before she’s gasping in my ear, trying to hold her scream back (we are outside, after all, and our closest neighbor can’t be more than thirty feet away, but fuck if I care right now), as her entire body breaks out in earth-shattering trembles, which pushes me closer to that release, too.
I take that moment to look her in the eyes and tell her something I haven’t told her nearly enough recently. “I love you,” I whisper, watching her come undone beneath me, which feels like my own version of the promised land.
She smiles, kissing me gently, our bodies rocking together through the motion, and tells me what I’ve needed to hear. “I love you, Chance.”
And it’s over for me. I feel the hot pressure building deep inside me until it finally bursts, and the waves of insane pleasure take over my senses. I can still feel her pulsing around me as my dick spurts, giving her all I’ve fucking got and emptying deep inside her.
It’s all I can do to hold onto her hips and ride it out, the most intense orgasm of my fucking life. I feel like I’ve just withstood a goddamn hurricane. I’m wrung out, exhausted, having given my absolute all to this woman beneath me, like I hope I get to do every single night for the rest of my life.
I lay down on her chest and her arms wrap around me, holding me tight to her, like she fucking used to, and everything feels so damn right in my life again. With her beneath me like this, my goddess, beside me in life, my queen, I can do anything. And I will do anything it takes to keep my family together and happy. Nothing is coming between us ever again.
But right now? I’m going to make her come again, and again, and again.
TWENTY-ONE
CHRISSY
So now’s the time where you think, thank God, they finally banged it out, right? This is the part where they get their HEA. Or, their continuation of the HEA they started years ago.
Alas, no.
Life doesn’t work like that in your thirties, married, with kids.
Just under three weeks left of our dating deal, or whatever you wanna call it, and we spent four. Entire. Days. Dealing with a cold that infected our entire house. Everyone. All the kids, Chance, myself, the dog even had the shits one of the days, though the vet swore up and down it couldn’t have been transferred from a human bug. And you know the real topper on that shit cake of a week? The fish finally kicked the bucket.
Chance had to call out of work, I had to get out of the two lone appointments that were affected, messaging two other artists who rent space at the spa to take over for me, and the entire house hunkered down for a majority of the week.
We took turns comforting the kids (even Brad needed to be cuddled and coddled a bit through it), and we spent a majority of our days huddled in the big bed, one giant lump of a sick family.
It didn’t help that for the first day and a half, I could hardly fuckingwalkafter the devastation my husband wreaked on me the night before the cold from Hades descended upon our house.
You know, the first time I saw his equipment up close, I was absolutely sure he was going to split me in half. I’m pretty sure I said a couple of prayers before I let him inside me, but he’s always made sure to get me…well-primed. And while I was primed the other night, believe me I was, going so long without that man’s monster inside me…whoo girl. It was like losing my virginity all over again, except the dick was twice as big, and, ya know, I actually came. Like four times. My body has been readjusting, remembering what my vagina is for, ever since. I’m looking forward to getting back in the saddle as soon as I’m not coughing up green shit every time I try to turn him on.
On night three, Chance was feeling a bit better than I was, so he tried to get everyone to bed, but Preston wasn’t having it. He only wanted lullabies from Mama, so I had to suck it up and give him the throatiest rendition of “Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight” since Stevie Nicks probably warmed up to it when she broke onto the scene in the 70s.
Luckily, by day five, Lea was doing well enough to go back to daycare, and Brad and Preston both returned to school. Just me and Ford hanging out at home and Chance trying to get whatever work done from home that he could.
Apparently his manager (you remember, the douchecanoe), told him to take the rest of the week and work from home if he was up to it. Neither of us trusted him. We think he’s up to something, but it’s actually been a welcome reprieve for Chance. He’s needed the time to recover, and as the top earner in the company, he fucking deserves a little leeway from time to time, in my not-at-all-humble opinion.
I will say, though, that despite being sick, despite nurturing and resuscitating four little ones and saying bye to the smallest pet in the house, things between us feel damn right again.
All of thegunkthat had built up between us—things neither of us could see, but couldfeelas a barrier between our relationship—feels like it’s been powerwashed away, leaving us clean and shiny, nothing to dull us down, nothing to add distance between our souls.
I spent months convincing myself I didn’t want to know what was behind “the incident,” and you know what? The things I’d worked myself up into believing about it were so much worse than the truth.
