“You’re gorgeous from every angle, every position. All this beauty.”
She loved hearing he thought her beautiful. She did. But she was frantic for him now. Wild to have him. She arched her spine and pushed back against him, needing him to enter her.
“So pretty. Too pretty.”
“Oliver,” she pleaded.
“My pretty wife. So very pretty even when you’re begging for my cock.”
She felt one hand come off her hip and some fumbling and the head of him stretched her entrance open.
She clenched. His hand came up and settled on the flat of her back, between her shoulder blades. “I want you, but I don’t want to hurt you. You must relax and let me in. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. The word sliced through the haze of her desire, made her own heart pound even faster than it was pounding already, filled her eyes with tears. Her forbidding, stern husband had just called hersweetheart.
Of course, all those roiling emotions made her want to tighten her muscles even more, hold his cock securely, never let him go, but his hand passed over her back in soothing strokes and she forced herself to relax her neck and dangle her head and soon her inner walls were also relaxing.
“So good, so beautiful, Henrietta.”
She could feel him advancing, plunging in deeper now that she was not cinching her sex around his.
Oh, heavens. Her head snapped up. His cock had touched some place deep inside her. Some place never touched before. Not last night. Not during her own explorations.
Some new paradise.
“Do that again,” she said. “Please.”
She felt him withdraw and plunge in again. Tingling ecstasy.
“Is that good?” he panted.
“It’s . . . I’m . . .” She could not answer.
He did it again. And again. And then he leaned over her and she could feel the brush of his chest hair against her back and his hand clutched a breast and she knew his big hands had been meant for her big breasts.
The other hand came around her hip and went between her legs and when he touched her swollen bit and rubbed it, she exploded.
Spasms of pleasure in her belly and her core, a gush of fluid down her leg. Her head fell forward onto the bed as she screamed soundlessly, and she bit down on a fold in the sheet, and her fingers clutched at nothing.
She was barely aware Oliver was still thrusting into her, but from far away, she heard him say, “So beautiful, my beautiful wife, coming all over my cock.”
And then he held himself deep inside her and groaned and jerked once, twice, thrice, and she felt his warmth and knew he had found his own release.
Eighteen
Seconds later, she was curled on her side in the bed and he was behind her, both of them still breathing heavily, their bodies dewed with perspiration.
When she found the wherewithal to speak, she said, “You called mesweetheart.”
A silence stretched for several seconds. Then he said, “You are sweet. The sweetest person I know. And you are also my heart.”
The blissful lethargy that had overtaken her after her release vanished in a sharp flare of feeling. It wasn’t pain, but some cousin to it she had never felt before. She turned and faced him. She put her hand on his jaw and stared into his gray eyes. She had held herself back for so long, and she couldn’t anymore.
“You are my heart, too. You’ve always been my heart.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving up and down. “I didn’t know I had a heart until you.”
“Yes, you did. But that’s all right. I don’t mind sharing.”
