“I’m sorry.” I whispered as I pressed kisses against it. Apologizing to her, to our daughter that I hadn’t been there to protect them. My family. “I’m sorry.”
With every kiss her fingers raked harder against my scalp. Gradually, the energy between us shifted. It became thick with sexual charge. In the back of my head, a little voice was telling me this probably wasn’t a great idea. We were dealing with enough and being intimate would just add more confusion. But I quickly hog-tied that voice to a chair and gagged it. Even if it was right and this might not be the best time because there was more we needed to say, that conversation would have to wait.
Right now, we just both needed to feel alive. To feel the connection that only we shared. Being with Peyton could never be wrong. I knew that on a base, animalistic level. Logic didn’t get a vote on this decision.
But I did need to make sure that Peyton and I were both on the same page.
I lifted my eyes and found her staring down at me and I had my answer. Carnal desire flickered in her emerald gaze. We didn’t have to say anything. Our communication was not reliant on speaking. She needed me just as badly as I needed her. It was as simple as that.
My hands slid beneath her shirt and traveled up, taking the material with them. She lifted her arms and pulled it up and off. With one tug, I pulled down her pants and panties down to her ankles. Her hands rested on my shoulders for balance as she stepped out of her shoes, slacks and underwear.
When she straightened up, I nudged her legs apart and began to run my fingers along her damp feminine folds. She stared down at me as I gently cupped the back of her knee then placed her leg over my shoulder, bringing my mouth in direct contact with her sex.
She reached her arm out and braced herself on the wall beside the chair as I licked and teased her opening. I gripped the hip of her leg that was standing with one hand, while the other joined with my mouth to give her pleasure.
Using the pad of my thumb I flicked her swollen clit as my tongue gently massaged the base of her slit. As I licked her opening and flicked her pleasure nub, her thighs began to tremble, and I knew that she was already close. I continued the sensual strokes of my tongue as my finger moved in a steady pace over her button, stimulating both the nub at the top of her sex and the slit of her opening simultaneously.
The sweet taste of her arousal coated my tongue as her hands fisted in my hair. She began to roll her hips against my lips and tongue and into my touch. I held still and allowed her to set the pace and take her pleasure from me as she ground her pussy into my mouth and hand.
I lifted my eyes and watched as her head fell back and her mouth opened in a cry of release. Her skin flushed a faint shade of pink and her belly fluttered as she rode out her climax. My own body was throbbing painfully with urgency. I was tempted to stroke myself as I watched her come but I ignored the impulse and knew that we would both benefit from prolonging my pleasure.
When the last spasms of her orgasm subsided, her leg dropped from my shoulder. I kissed her gently once more on her scar before standing. As soon as I was on my feet her hands snaked around my neck as her mouth crashed into mine. Knowing that she could taste herself on my lips as we kissed deeply only added to fuel the bonfire of desire that was burning in me.
With impassioned urgency, she reached between us and began to pull my shirt from my pants. I could feel her desperation, and it mirrored what I was feeling.
“I need you,” she declared as she broke our kiss and tugged my shirt off my head.
“I need you, too.” I pulled the shirt the rest of the way and when my arms dropped down to my sides, she was already undoing my pants.
Her hands trembled as she unbuttoned and unzipped my slacks. I watched her and thoughts began to crowd into my mind. Thoughts of the past and the future. What could have been. What should have been. But just like the voice telling me that this might not be a good idea, I silenced them.
Tonight, I was just going to be in the moment. All that mattered, right now, was the connection that Peyton and I shared, the intimacy, the love. None of that had wavered over two decades. No matter what else happened, what transpired in the past, or what was to come in the future, that had to mean something.
28
PEYTON
As I workedto get Maddox naked, I felt like a weight was lifted off my chest. I felt lighter than I had in years. The biggest secret of my life had been revealed and the worst hadn’t happened. Maddox was still here, he said that he didn’t hate me and I believed him.
He’d always been a big proponent and believer in actions speaking louder than words, and the orgasm he’d just given me was not one born of hate or anger. Pain, maybe, but not his, mine. It felt like he was trying to heal me with his touch. And it was working.
Now, I wanted to return the favor.
After sliding his pants and boxer briefs down his muscular thighs, I watched as he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his dress pants. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him back. He fell back into the chair, which caused the plastic to squish beneath him. I smiled at the very unsexy noise occurring at a very sexy time as I lowered down onto my knees.
His erection was standing at full attention and my mouth watered as I wrapped my fingers around his girth. I stared at the perfection that was his manhood as my hold tightened around him. His shaft pulsed in my grip as I slid my hand up to his head and squeezed.
“Peyton, you don’t have to—”
His words cut off when I leaned over and put my lips around his cock, sucking him into my mouth. My tongue massaged his shaft as I gripped his base. I’d always loved giving Maddox head. It had always turned me on. The sensation of his cock sliding up and down my tongue, holding his shaft in my hands and stroking him as I licked and sucked him made me feel sexy, like a seductress, two adjectives I would never use to describe myself otherwise.
On several occasions, I’d worked myself up to the brink of orgasm doing it. Maybe it was because so much of our relationship was spent doing everything but having sex, foreplay was something we excelled at. Whatever the reason, I’d always found an odd sense of pride at being able to drive him to the brink of madness, feeling the muscles of his thighs twitch, his hands fisting in my hair, hearing the groans and grunts of male appreciation. It empowered me. It made me feel connected to Maddox, it was as intimate to me as the actual act itself.
When his hands didn’t automatically move to my head, and I didn’t hear any sounds of pleasure a moment of insecurity floated through my mind. Maybe I’d lost my touch. Maybe I didn’t know his body the way I thought I did. Maybe he wasn’t enjoying what I was doing. But no sooner had it floated by than it was burst by a deep, masculine groan of satisfaction that ripped from his chest as he curled his hand around the back of my neck.
“Fuckthat feels so good,” he growled.
Relief, and I’m not going to lie, pride swelled in my chest. It turned out going down on Maddox was just like riding a bike, it didn’t matter that it had been twenty years, all my tricks came back to me.
