I’ve got her.
I hold her through it, steadying her as she breaks, riding it out with her until she slowly comes back down.
Only then do I ease off, pressing slow, grounding kisses along her inner thighs as I look up at her, still catching her breath.
I could stay right here forever.
I could never get enough of her.
Never get enough of this. I ease her legs down, hands steady on her as her feet find the floor.
My hand slides up to her jaw, tilting her face back, and I crush my mouth against hers.
I kiss her with heat and possession, and something just shy of desperate.
My grip tightens at her waist, dragging her closer, my forehead brushing hers for half a second before I go back in, unable to help myself.
“Fuck,” I speak against her lips, breath rough, a faint grin tugging at my mouth. “Morning workouts hit different.”
I drag a hand through my damp hair as I step out into the hallway, a smirk still tugging at my mouth.
We cleaned up in the shower.
And by cleaned up, I mean she very nearly dropped me to my fucking knees when she almost sucked my fucking brain out of my cock.
Jesus. I am feeling pretty fucking good today…rain shower, ball-massage, piercings clicking against teeth, my wife demanding I finish in her fucking mouth while holding eye contact…
I just want some water, a soft throw blanket, and some shitty TV show to chill with.
I exhale a quiet laugh to myself, shaking my head.
Yeah… all is right with the world.
I check the time on my phone.
Forty-five minutes, before we should leave, according to google maps.
Plenty of time.
Enough to get a few things handled before we leave—keep this whole thing feeling as normal as I can make it.
I push off down the hall, already running through what needs doing.
Find Igor.
Make sure the cars are ready.
Security around, but not sat in our lap like a third wheel.
I pause mid-step, grimacing slightly.
Wife also wants a fruit platter.
Fuck.
I scrub a hand over my face.
Please, for the love of everything holy, let there not be any fucking watermelon in the fridge.
