“Please, husband, please fuck me. Hard. Fast. I want it. I need it.” She blinks up at me with those big, blue eyes.
Still, I hold steady. “What is it you need exactly, hmm? Give me the words, babe and I’ll give it to you.”
“Your cock,” she cries and that about does it.
I slam into her, lifting her until she’s balanced on just the toes of the foot still on the ground. Allowing myself only a moment for my head to fall back and a long groan to rumble from my throat, I tilt my head back down to look at her, keeping eye contact when I start to move. My mouth hovers over hers a mere inch between us, but I don’t move to kissher, I just let our hot, panting breaths mingle in the small space.
She feels sublime, tight enough to feel like a fist around my cock, wet and silken. I feel her clench and contract over my length, her fists tighten above her head, all the while I lose myself in the depths of her blue irises.
“God, I’ve missed this. Missed you.” Her eyes close and I stop, buried as far in as I can be until she looks at me again. “Eyes on me, always.”
She nods, gasping when I pump my hips against hers once more. “Always,” she repeats like a mantra. “Always yours.”
“That’s fucking right.” I’m close, so close. Finally, I bend to kiss those soft lips, swiping my tongue against the seam and plunging inside. She whimpers and her hands struggle against my hold, her leg tightening around my waist as her inner walls squeeze me so tight I’m surprised I don’t blow straight away. I need her to come but my hands are all busy. Pressing in deep, I move my hips to give her the friction I know she’s craving.
“Oh god, Harry.” Her head falls back against the door, and she momentarily closes her eyes before remembering herself and catching my gaze.
“That’s it, Angel, come for me.”
And she does. Such a good fucking wife. With the pulsing heat enveloping my cock, I’m helpless to fight it off anymore and I come, hard. My forehead rests on hers as I paint her insides, breathing heavily against her wanting mouth.
“Kiss me,” she begs, and I couldn’t deny her if I wanted to. We kiss hotly but sweetly as I release her hands and lower her back to the ground so I can hold her beautiful face in my hands and feed her all the love I have. “That was—”
“A good start.” I smile against her, and she returns it, biting down on that plump bottom lip and nodding in agreement.
I bend and lift her by the back of both thighs, taking care to step out of my trousers that were still around my ankles, and head to the bathroom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“So, you get off to dogs?”
LISA
Ican’t remember the last time Harry and I showered together, but that’s what we’re apparently doing. He places me down gently on the vanity and turns the shower on, holding his hand under the spray for a moment to check the temperature. I watch with desirable interest—despite the recent orgasm and having watched Harry undress for the last fifteen years—as he unbuttons his shirt and pulls it from his shoulders.
He may not be quite as sculpted as he had been at twenty, but Harry is still a smoke show at thirty-five. His pecs are large and the divots of his six-pack still deep, he has that sharp V at his hips that points your attention to his large—and still semi-hard—cock. All golden skin, like he’s been working shirtless out in the summer sun, but he works in an office and it’s the middle of a dreary British winter. The dusting of hair over his chest and down the centre of his torso to meet the happy trail below his belly button is the same hue as the styled mop of flaxen hair on his head. The hair lower is darker and trimmed neatly because my man likes to look good for me. Even for his muscular frame, Harry’s legs are thick from years of playing rugby, those powerful legs send him flying down the pitch at top speed and make my thighs rub together in appreciation.
“Are you perving on me, Mrs Forest?” My eyes snap from where they had drifted to the seafoam green eyes that hold my world. I nod in response, with an innocent smile and he chuckles, coming to nestle between my legs. “Good, keep doing that.”
Harry kisses me with gentle lips and a strong tongue and I let my fingers roam over all that lovely skin I’d just been ogling. When he grips my dress and starts pulling it up, I tense. For all the want, need, and love between us, I’m still acutely aware of the changes in my body and as much that he’s tried to convince me otherwise, I’m sure he’ll notice them when he gets a closer look.
“Lisa,” he says gently, pausing in undressing me. “Tell me.”
Tell me what’s worrying you.That’s what he’s saying, that’s what he wants but every time I practice the words in my head, they sound pathetic, vain. I know the protests he’ll make. I know he’ll deny it but I can’t stop the worry. Instead of pushing me from my silence, he pulls me from the vanity and spins me until I’m facing the large mirror.
“Trust me?” he asks me from behind and I nod.
Pulling at my dress again, he pulls it free, I lift my arms to help him but refuse to look at myself in the mirror even thought I know that’s what he wants. He doesn’t demand it of me though, instead he makes quick work of unclasping my black bra and pushing it from my shoulders and down my arms.
Now we’re both naked in the mirror, his chest pressed to my back as his hands skim up my arms, his lips moving so softly over my neck, nuzzling my long blonde hair out of his way as he goes. Without words, Harry tells me how beautiful I am. One hand splays out on my stomach, the softness beneath his palm doesn’t seem to bother him at all as his fingers gently flex, stroking over the skin there. The other cups my breast, his large hand easily covering the soft mound, feeling its weight and squeezing, the bud of my nipple trapped between his knuckles, a small bite of pain that has me clenching my thighs. Harry’s teeth graze my shoulder, his lips kissing the sting away.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Look how beautiful you are, how well you fit in my arms, in my hands.”
My heart is pounding heavily against my chest, and I do as he says, pulling my focus from his hands touching me towherehe’s touching. My breasts may be a couple inches lower than they were fifteen years ago, but they still look good, full and round. The flesh bulges between his fingers each time he squeezes, it’s satisfying to watch and the heat from his palm drips down my body to between my legs like warm honey. My stomach jiggles slightly when he moves but the way he grips at me makes me love that there’s more there to take hold of.
He strokes downward to the small strip of hair over my pubic bone and further until he’s cupping my pussy, a single digit bending to swipe along my slit. I hum a moan of pleasure, having him touch me so intimately, but then he takes his hand away and I give him a pout in the mirror. Bringing his hand to my mouth, he swipes that finger over my lips, now slick from our combined orgasms. My tongue darts out automatically to catch the flavour but Harry grips my chin, turning my head and taking my mouth in a hard and demanding kiss.
When we break apart, he cups my jaw, looking down at me in that way that Harry does, seeing everything. “I love you, Lisa Forest. Every single inch of you. I did fifteen years ago, and I do now, probably even more so.” He pauses, swallowing like the emotions are threatening to erupt and he needs to physically push them down. “Please tell me you know that. Please understand that to me you are perfect, in every way.”
