Chapter 14
chapter
fourteen
Mike
Later that night, after we’ve had dinner out, we’re leaving the restaurant when my wife tries to kill me.
“I’ve decided I don’t want to take things slowly at all,” she announces as soon as we’re enclosed in my car. “I think we should consummate our marriage.”
My heart is pounding so fast and loud, I think I might be having some sort of cardiac event. “Right now?” I ask with a wheeze.
She laughs. “We could drive home first.”
“Got it. Driving home.”
Once we’re parked in the garage, she leans over and kisses the hell out of me. I’m hard instantly.
“Fuck,” I groan. “Out of the car, now.” I grab her hand and practically pull her into the elevator that leads up to my penthouse.
I kick my condo door closed behind us, and before I can think twice, I've got Evelyn pressed against the wall. My mouth roaming all over her throat.
“You smell so fucking good.”
Her little mewls of pleasure drive me absolutely fucking crazy. This woman has been living in my condo, wearing my sweatshirts, humming while she does her lesson plans, and I've been losing my mind.
"Mike," she breathes against my mouth.
"I've wanted this since Vegas," I admit between kisses. "Since you walked out of that bedroom in that ivory dress."
She keeps one hand around my neck while the other works on my belt. I should slow down. I should be patient. But when it comes to this woman—my wife—I am helpless.
"Fuck, you're sexy. You know that, right? You're so goddamn sexy it's been torture sleeping so close to you and not touching you the way I’ve wanted to.”
"I want you inside me," she says breathlessly, then immediately covers her face with her hands. "Oh God, I can't believe I just said that out loud."
I gently pull her hands away. "Hey. No hiding from me, wife."
Her eyes flare at the word, and she gives me that grin—the one that first hooked me in the chapel. She takes my hand and pulls me into our bedroom. “Take off your clothes, husband. We'll go slow next time."
She pulls her shirt over her head, and I'm momentarily distracted by her curves. Full breasts practically spilling out of a simple cotton bra—nothing fancy, nothing trying too hard, and somehow sexier than anything I've ever seen.
"You're staring," she says, a blush creeping up her cheeks.
"I'm appreciating." I strip off my own clothes, tossing them over the chair. "There's a difference."
She watches me, her gorgeous green eyes darkening as she takes in my body. Her teeth catch her bottom lip—that thing she does when she's nervous or thinking too hard—and she releases a shaky breath.
"Wow," she says. "You're like... wow."
I laugh, pulling her into my arms. "Eloquent."
"Shut up. I teach kindergartners. My vocabulary peaks at 'wow' and 'use your walking feet.'"
God, I love that she can make me laugh even now, when I'm harder than I've ever been in my life. I reach behind her and unclasp her bra, pulling it off in one motion.
She stands there, motionless and staring at the wall behind me.
"You're overthinking," I murmur against her neck. "I can hear it."
"I'm not—"
"You are." I walk her backward toward the bed. "You're wondering if you're doing this right. If I'm comparing you to someone else. If this is a mistake."
She goes quiet, and I know I've hit the mark.
I ease her down onto the mattress and hover over her, brushing hair from her face.
"Here's what I'm actually thinking: I'm thinking about how I've wanted to kiss this spot"—I press my lips to her collarbone—"every time it peeks out of your shirts. Or mine. I’m thinking about how you make happy noises when you’re about to eat something tasty.
And how it makes me want to bend you over the kitchen counter.
I'm thinking about how you are the furthest thing from boring I've ever met. "
"Mike..."
"You are fucking extraordinary." I kiss my way down her body. "And I'm going to spend the rest of tonight proving it."
I settle between her thighs, pressing kisses along the soft skin there. She's trembling, and not from cold.
"Can I tell you something?" I ask, looking up at her.
"Right now?" She laughs, breathless.
“Yes, and before I say it, I will also promise, this is the last time I will bring him up. If you want to discuss something, we’ll do it, but for me, he is a blip.”
“Okay. Go ahead,” she says.
“You said Kurt was predictable. Tuesdays and Sundays, same position, no orgasms for Evelyn." I drag my nose against her center through her panties. "That ends tonight."
Her hips buck. "You remembered that?"
"Princess, I remember everything you tell me." I hook my fingers into her waistband and slowly pull her panties down. "I'm nosy, remember? Your words stick with me. But in this house, Evelyn gets orgasms every day. Multiple times a day if she wants.”
She's perfect. Wet and waiting, and the scent of her arousal is intoxicating.
"You're staring again," she whispers.
"Appreciating." I spread her open gently. "You're beautiful here, too. Pretty and pink and perfect."
She covers her face with her arms, and I gently pull them away again.
"No hiding," I remind her. "Watch me."
Then I lean in and taste her.
“Oh my God!"
There it is. My wife is a screamer, and that knowledge sends a surge of satisfaction straight through me.
I take my time, alternating between fucking her with my tongue and circling her clit. She's not quiet—moaning, cursing, her hands fisting the sheets. When I slide a finger inside her and crook it just right, she practically comes off the bed.
"That's it," I murmur against her. "Let go for me."
"Mike, I'm—oh God, I'm gonna—"
"I know, baby. I can feel it. Come for me, Evelyn. Show me how good you feel."
Her pussy clenches around my finger , and she cries out my name like it's the only word she knows. I work her through it, gentling my movements as she comes down.
When I finally pull back, she's staring at the ceiling like she's seen God.
“Wow,” she breathes.
“A true wordsmith you are.”
“Shut up. You broke my brain.”
I grab a condom and roll it on. I crawl up her body slowly, savoring every inch. The cluster of freckles on her hip. The curve of her waist. The heavy swell of her breasts. Each hard nipple gets attention until she's squirming beneath me.
"Please," she whispers.
"Please, what?"
"Please stop teasing me and fuck me already."
I grin. “A kindergarten teacher with a dirty mouth. I think I’m in love.”
I position myself at her entrance and push inside slowly, watching her face the whole time. Her lips part, her eyes flutter closed, and she makes this sound—half moan, half sigh—that I want to hear for the rest of my life.
"You feel..." I grunt, pulling back and sliding home again. "Fuck, Evelyn. You feel incredible."
"So do you." She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. "More."
I give her more. Slow at first, then faster when she begs for it. I shift my angle, searching, and when her eyes go wide and her mouth falls open, I know I've found it.
"Right there?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"Yes. Oh God, yes, right there, don't stop—"
I don't stop. I thrust into her again and again, watching pleasure wash over her face. She's uninhibited now, all that nervous energy transformed into pure want.
"You're perfect," I tell her. "So fucking perfect. Come for me again, baby. Let me feel you."
She shatters, clenching around me so tight I see stars. It triggers my own release, and I come harder than I ever have in my life, groaning her name into the curve of her neck.
We collapse together, breathing hard. I roll to the side and pull her against my chest, not ready to let go yet. Maybe not ever.
"That was..." she starts.
"Yeah."
"I didn't know it could be like that."
I kiss the top of her head. "Get used to it."
She's quiet for a moment, then laughs softly. "You know what's funny? This whole thing started because I thought I was playing a game. Pretending to be someone else."
"And now?"
She props herself up on her elbow to look at me, her green eyes soft and warm. "Now I feel more like myself than I have in years."
I trace my thumb across her cheek. “I love that.” I pull her down for a gentle kiss. "I'm pretty fucking grateful I got to be here for it."
She grins—that real, full grin that makes her whole face light up. "You're kind of a romantic, Mike Sinclaire."
“Only for you, Evelyn Sinclaire,” I say, then add, “Tell anyone, and I'll deny it."
"Your secret's safe with me, husband."