My cock is still aching, though. She got me all worked up and ready to blow my load into her mouth, and then the fucking elevator had to stop moving.
Sometimes life’s not fair.
I chug the rest of my champagne, and the deejay lets partygoers know that there’s only a half hour left before it’s a brand-new year.
We dance, we drink, we grind, we get hornier and hornier for each other. Eventually, Tatum grabs onto my arm and leads me toward a door. I don’t even know how she saw this particular door, but it looks like it’s a hallway leading back to the kitchens, only this particular hallway isn’t being usedtonight. It’s dark, lit only by a small window at the top of a door on the other end of the hallway that must lead into the kitchen area.
Nobody’s back here, and she drops back down to her knees.
“Fuck, Ford, your cock is so beautiful,” she hums as she takes me back into her mouth. She moans as if she’s getting off just by suckingmeoff, and it’s a beautiful sight to witness. It’s somehow the sexiest moment I’ve witnessed in my entire twenty-nine years. I’ve had blow jobs before, sure—but never this intimate. Never this sexy. Never from a woman I was in love with. Never from my wife.
She sucks on my cock, and she lets go of me to fist me and stroke up and down a few times. “You know,” she says softly, and she sucks on the crown of my cock again before she continues talking. “I feel your cum in my pussy still. Now I want it in my mouth.” She sucks me back in, and she bobs her head up and down as her fist moves along in time with her mouth.
Goddamn, she’s good at this.
“You’re about to get it,” I grunt, and my fingers thread into her hair as I fuck her mouth, my hips delivering punishing thrusts in and out as she follows me, drive for aching drive.
I can’t stop this freight train. It feels too good, too hot, too perfect. I burst inside her mouth with a growl as jet after jet of cum shoots to the back of her throat. She moans through it, and when I glance down at her as my climax comes to an end, she’s got her free hand under her dress, and she’s furiously rubbing her own clit.
She keeps rubbing, keeps sucking me even though I’m dry, and I reach under her armpits to haul her up. I bat her hand out of the way, and I slip my fingers down only to discover she’s not wearing any panties.
Fuck. I could come again just at the mere thought.
I slip my finger into her, and I move slower than she was on herself. I slide my finger in, and I hold it there, curling it up before I pull it back out. I thrust a few times, and then I pull my finger out to use her own moisture to rub at her clit.
“Fuck, Ford! Fuck!” She clutches onto my shoulders as her sweet pleas are swallowed by the loud music just outside this door, where the party rages on and nobody is the wiser that we stole this intimate moment in this hallway.
Her legs tremble with the force of her second orgasm of the night, and she holds onto me like she’ll fall over if she doesn’t. I lean forward and kiss her lips, the salty taste of my semen still on her tongue as it dances with mine.
As the quakes subside, her legs continue to tremble, and she links her arms around my neck as I pull my fingers out of her and hold her tightly, turning something as simple as a blow job and a finger bang in a dark hallway into an emotional, meaningful moment for the two of us.
We take a moment for ourselves, breathing in each other deeply, and once she’s straightened out her dress and I’ve tucked my cock back into my pants, we head back out to the party, no one any wiser as to what we just did in that hallway.
We grab more champagne, and when Tatum drops hers on the dance floor, the woman dancing beside her starts to slip. Tatum manages to catch her before she falls, but then her heels slip, too, and they both crash down to the floor.
And instead of rubbing the painful spot where they each fell on their asses, they laugh together from the floor.
That’s Tatum. Chaos wherever she goes, but a shining light to make everyone around her happier at the same damn time.
I know she makesmehappier.
The countdown begins. We kiss at midnight and toast with champagne.
Life feels pretty damn perfect as we dance the night away.
But if itwasactually perfect, that would be our happy ending…right?
Instead, our story is just getting started.
CHAPTER 39: Ford Bradley
Spank Bank
The next ten days are a whirl of hot sex with my new wife and football…and a few headlines here and there about my new wife and football.
Once our wedding photos hit the media, her phone started ringing off the hook with couples wanting to book Winston Manor.
She’s busy.
