Dylan
Our mouths meet, but this is no soft reunion. Despite the loss and regret, the confusion and pain, this is no tentative incident. My kiss is hard—punishing lips and grazing teeth. I fuck her mouth with my tongue, mean and possessive, while she takes it all. Participates. Moaning into my mouth, she threads her legs around my waist, hooking them over my back; her heels pull my hips into hers. Hands in my hair, she draws it into her fists, jerking me closer, as though she can’t get enough. As though she wants this to hurt.
If this kiss is our punishment, take a whip to us both. We’re free-falling now, and there is no reverse. I’m not braced on my arms; my body is flush against hers. I wonder if she can feel me shaking—shaking like it’s my first time. I wonder if she can feel my heart pounding—wonder if hers beats the same rapid tune. And all the while I’m barely processing, I’m trying to climb inside her skin. Scraping my teeth over her neck. Grinding against her. Getting her off yet barely touching her.
But I will. I have no intentions of going anywhere. Yet I wait. Vacillate. Not because I’m reluctant and nostalgia has no place here. Adrenaline floods my veins until I can feel my body almost vibrating, the anticipation like a high. I physically tremble. Maybe it’s need, or maybe it’s because I know it’s gonna hurt.Afterwards. This isn’t one of my finest moments, but it’s the only one I want. I crave the high of this ride.
Rammed tight between her legs, I rest my weight on one elbow and slide my hand down her curves, ignoring the glint from the ring of gold she wears on a chain around her neck.Cheap piece of shit.I’d bought her a diamond band to replace it—ethically sourced diamonds, handmade artisan. The kind of ring that cost almost as much as my sister’s condo. At least,shewas grateful. Ivy, on the other hand, rarely wore it and left it behind.Get in the game, Dylan. Get the fuck out of your head.
My fingers barely caress the side of her breast. God, I’ve missed this—missed the tiny intake of breath she’s not even aware of making. Missed the high colour in her cheeks and the mahogany of her hair. Her skin is so soft, her hair so dark and silky, and her pussy so... sublime.
And still mine.
Clenching my hand at her hip, I twist the pale string of her panties cruelly, aware that the string will be digging into her skin. Not that her face betrays any of this. She’s all languid eyes and soft and rapid breath. Her lips are cherry ripe, and all her dirty thoughts are written across her face.
‘New panties, Edera?’ My voice is soft, mocking, as I feel the fibres in my hand divide. ‘I hope you weren’t too attached to them.’
She moans aloud as the string snaps in my hand, but I leave them attached to her other hip. Lying the lace triangle against her thigh, I slip my hand between her legs and slide my fingers along her slit until her juices coat my fingertips.Slick. Hot. Heaven.
‘This for me or for him?’
I’m not watching her face; my gaze remains intent between her legs because she won’t answer. Not verbally, at least, as she widens her legs and tilts her hips as though the change in angle will give her relief. Something snags my focus—something not quite right. Her body’s giving the right signals, but she makes little noise. As I look up into her face, her eye contact is nil. Ivy’s all about the connection; at least, she was. Lustful glances and tender touches. Sighs offered like secrets told. And now, her eyes are closed. Disconnected. That’s not what I need.
‘Answer me.’ My voice is rough and gravelly, the grip on my temper fucking tenuous. Thin. ‘Me or him. It’s an easy question. Who made you wet—fucking dripping?’ She looks like she’s about to tell me to go get fucked when I slide two fingers down her slit then push them inside. ‘Just the tips, Edera, baby. Those are just the tips. Your pussy’s so wet and ready, but I need to know if it’s for me or for him.’
Her lush bottom lip is folded between her teeth as though she’s determined to keep the words in. So I push those fingers in—all the way in until her wetness coats my knuckles. My dick throbs when she rewards me with a sharp exhale like the sensation is brand new. Like we haven’t done this before a thousand times.
‘It’s you. It’s always been you, you... twat.’
I laugh unexpectedly. It’s such an Ivy choice of word. Not that she’d admit it to anyone else, but this girl can swear like a sailor’s whore. She swallows, watching my face—my laugh—in her own a moment of regret. One I don’t want to think about, so I kiss her. Pull my fingers out. Rotate. Push them back in.
‘Open those legs, baby.’ I whisper the words against her mouth. ‘Let me see that pussy.’
Like the good girl she likes to think she is, she does.
I nip at her neck. Use my teeth harder. Bite. Soothe with my tongue. Lave and lap. Grip her pulse so hard between my teeth that she gasps. And all the while, she yields, legs spread, pushing up into my hand when I cover her mound. Grinds her clit against my palm and, to my profound surprise and delight, she comes hard. Surprise because I’m not inside her. Don’t have my mouth on her or fingers inside her anymore, only my palm. And she’s groaning, blissing out, releasing tremulous breath after breath. And fuck me, if this isn’t the hottest thing I’ve been near to in months.Seen in months. My darling Ivy. A little thinner. A little harder. But maybe a little more than I deserve.
I slide my way down her body before she has time to catch her breath. I want to be inside her so badly but crave her taste. I flick my tongue on either side of her lips, and she moans. Slipping my tongue through her wetness, I feel her arch from the bed with a cry.
‘Hush.’ I place my palm low on her stomach and press down, taking her clit softly into my mouth.
‘Oh, fuck,’ she pants. I smile from nostalgia. From this girl’s sweet, filthy mouth.
‘What was that?’ I growl against her wetness, knowing how the vibration works for her.
‘Oh, fuck. Fuck me.’ She arches again.
‘You don’t need to ask twice, baby, but for now, I’ve gotta keep tasting.’
‘Yes!’ More hiss than word.
‘Yes, what?’ More taunt than response.
‘Yes, please,’ she cries, as I use the roughness of my stubble against where she’s most soft. ‘Please. Taste me. Fuck me with your mouth, Dylan. Make me come!’
So I do. I fuck her with my tongue using my fingers and an arsenal of stubble, lips, and teeth. I flick and suck, drawing every sensation from her body along with her cries. She tastes like... Ivy. Like I remember. Like the woman who was once my whole world.
Like my wife.
