My shirt went first, then my pants and boxers, until the only thing between our bodies was a bit of oxygen and her silk panties. She handled the panties part before she was even on the bed with me.
I let her have control of what came next, while my dick pulsed in her hand, and her mouth moved down my chest. She dragged her lips over my skin so the soft, wet inside of her mouth trailed past my navel, along the trail of hair leading to?—
Her mouth was on my dick, and her hand held my nuts, and fuck it all, being married was the best thing drunk—or sober—me had ever done.
She moved her mouth up and down my shaft, deep-throating and then releasing to start again. I'd have a lipstick ring when she was done, and damn, that made me even harder.
The wet heat of her pressed against my thigh while she went down on me, rubbing in circles. That she was getting off on that didn't hurt my feelings. But my nuts pulled up close to my body, and I was gonna blow if she kept this up.
"Gorgeous, if you don't want me to finish, then you should probably climb on," I said. There was only so much control I had, and we were quickly coming to the limit.
She didn't seem to care that I might finish, because she gave me two more thrusts into her mouth before she came up for air. I hissed a breath, because fuck, it was cold without the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue.
I started to sit up so I could take over, but she wasn't having it. She held my chest down with her hand as she mounted me, holding on while she slipped her body into place. Tight and wet, she enveloped my dick, and I couldn't stop myself from bucking under her.
Usually, I'd take this part slow, ease in, and let her body adjust to taking my heavy girth. But tonight, something came over me, and there was no pause button.
She didn't seem to care. Seemed to get off on it, even.
"That's it, baby," I said, holding her hips down and giving her my thumb against the bundle of nerves beneath the curls at the center of her thighs.
"Flick it," she said, pressing my finger right where she wanted it.
I did three soft taps, a swipe, and then flicked. And she came, pulsing around me, milking my shaft until there was nothing left.
Her eyes stayed open the whole time her body pulsed around me, her gaze locked with mine. The connection was something I'd never experienced before. Something different that felt so right.
Gently, I sat up, holding her against me and running my hand over the back of her hair. Then, with as much care as possible, I laid her down beside me and got up from the bed to run warm water on a washcloth.
Neither of us said anything as I cleaned between her legs.
We'd never done it like this before. She usually took charge and handled this part, but tonight was different. Special. She was a queen, and I was there to worship her, care for her, and… love her.
The thought took my breath away and made the world seem to go two-dimensional.
"God, I'm in love with you," I said, the words slipping out as easily as a moan or a groan or any of the other sounds we'd made together.
Maya stilled. She didn't move at all. It actually felt like she'd left the bed, even though she was right there with me.
"Sorry," I said, quickly, and tossed the washcloth aside. "I'm sorry. That just came out."
Maya sat up so we were face to face, her expression unreadable as her eyebrows drew together, and a slight frown marred what was otherwise a fucking fantastic time.
"We should go to sleep," I suggested, hastily, already climbing under the covers.
For the first time in our marriage, things traveled well past awkward down the road to totally fucked.
"Sloan…" She looked at me funny. I couldn't quite figure out that expression. I'd never seen it on her before.
"Are you tired?" I asked, stretching my arm out to settle her in the crook like we always slept when we were together.
She nodded. "I am."
"Then let's get some shut eye, yeah?" I asked, gesturing to my arm.
She forced a smile but settled in with me, her back to my front. We might've both been naked, but I was certain I was the only one who felt exposed.
There in the dark with the sounds of our breathing and the occasional rustle of blankets as she shifted, I'd never been so worried that I'd get kicked out of bed. Out of the room. Out of her life.
