Chapter 16
MOLLY
I’m nervous being this brazen, but I’ve missed him so much, and the chemistry between us has been incredible over the phone.
The look on his face when I open the door tells me that I made the right choice wearing his jersey. He twirls me around and growls when he sees his name across my back.
“I stole this from work,” I confess as Jeff picks me up and carries me inside.
“Good girl.”
I’m glad he approves, because I felt like the worst kind of stealthy criminal when I made an excuse to take it from the equipment guys—and I have no plans on returning it.
We get as far as the kitchen counter before he sets me down. His hands are shaking as he unbuttons the jersey. “Need to see you. But I want to leave this on you. Want to love you while you’re wearing my number. Jesus, you’re beautiful. I missed you so much.”
“I had fun talking on the phone.” It made me brave. It made me wear nothing under the jersey, a fact he immediately discovers, and he drops to his knees.
“So did I …” He kisses the inside of my thigh. “But it’s even better in person. Now I can show you. What did I tell you I want?”
Me. On his tongue, on his fingers.
I clutch at his open jersey.
He pushes my thighs wider, revealing my slick core, the wet need he stokes in me.
And he waits. “What did I tell you, Molly?”
Heat blazes through me. “You want to make me come with your mouth.”
“That’s right.” He kisses up to the very top of my thigh, his stubble deliciously rough against my soft skin. “Do you want that too?”
I’m shaking. “Yes. Please.”
“Please?” He looks up at me, his hair glinting silver in the dim light. “That’s very nice, Molly.”
“I’ve been turned on since I got the notice that the plane took off,” I confess.
“Did you touch yourself?” He notches my legs wider still, until my hips ache and clit feels very exposed. He ghosts his fingers along the outside of my pussy, barely touching me.
It still makes a trickle of arousal slide out of me.
And I’m spread so wide for him there’s no hiding it.
“Molly?”
My head is spinning. He hasn’t even touched me, not really, and I’m climbing toward something. “Mmm?”
“Did you touch this pretty pussy and think of me coming back to you?”
“No, I waited.” I shift my hips, rocking right to the edge of the counter. He lets me move close to him, but he keeps my legs as wide as before.
And then, just when I think he’s going to finally lick me, he lifts one of my feet and plants it on the counter beside my hip.
I whimper out loud.
“I’m going to kiss your needy little pussy,” he promises. “But I want to hear you say please a few more times.”
“Please, please, please, please, please—”
He latches on to me, not gentle like last time, not easing into it. He dives into my pussy like a starving man, like a man who has edged us both for eight days. His tongue slides across every aching inch of my core, then pushes inside, making me moan before he licks up to my clit.
“Yes, there, oh my god …”
“You taste so good.” He lashes across my clit, making my thighs shake. He pushes the other leg up so both feet are on the counter, so I’m folded up like an origami sex doll. And then he settles in and devours me.
All I can do is hold on tight.
Stars threaten at the edges of my vision as he swirls and sucks and pulls, drawing my arousal tighter and tighter.
“You taste …” He groans against my slick core. “Fuck, Molly, you taste like you’re mine. Tell me that you’re mine.”
I cry out, his words setting fire to the tightly bound desire. My clit pulses against his tongue, his mouth meeting the desperate rhythm I need, and suddenly, I’m gone, the orgasm fracturing me into a thousand glittering pieces.
“I’m yours,” I promise, my voice shaky but sure. “I’m yours, I’m yours …”
Jeff holds me up, his hands big and strong on my hips and my waist, then higher, pinning me against the cabinet behind me, holding me still as he licks me more softly, rolling me through the aftereffects of the climax.
When I stop shaking, he pushes to his feet, grabs the edges of his jersey I’m still wearing, and crushes his mouth to mine.
He tastes like me.
His face is wet.
I moan as he kisses me roughly. “You … that was …”
He wipes a bit of my arousal off my lips and grins at me as he crowds me against the cupboard. “I’ve thought about nothing else for days.”
I wind my arms around his neck. “You’ve coached some good games in that time. You were multitasking, at least.”
“Don’t tease me, wife. I had the taste of you on my tongue the entire time.
It was very distracting, thinking about how good you felt on my tongue and my fingers …
thinking about how wet and tight you get …
” He unzips, the sound loud in the quiet of my kitchen, and then his cock is pushing between my thighs, hot and hard.
He shudders as he rocks his hips. “Thinking about you, just like this.”
“Me too.” I search for his mouth again, sighing in relief when I find his lips. “Please, Jeff.”
“What do you need, baby?”
“I need you.” My head spins again. We’ve talked about a lot over the last week, but we didn’t talk about this part. He told me he wanted to taste me again and wanted to make me come with his mouth and his fingers.
He didn’t say his cock.
He didn’t push that even once.
But I want it.
I want him.
I kiss him again, soft as can be. My pulse is pounding. “I want you. I want my husband.”
He goes still. His hand comes up, and he pulls back just enough so he can hold my face up and look me in the eye. His gaze darkens as he stares at me. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
I suck in a sharp, surprised breath. Because I didn’t know I was going to say this, but … “I do mean it, Coach.”
“There’s no annulment if we do this. I’m not going to lie about being inside my wife. I’m not going to let you go once I’ve been inside you.”
“Were you ever going to let me go?” I laugh a little.
He laughs too. “Not really. Not from my heart. And I was prepared to have a long, hard campaign to win you over.”
It’s so absurd. We don’t know each other. But we know each other. On this level. On a chemistry level. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life getting to know everything else about my husband.
My accidental husband.
But also the husband I chose. “You’ve won me over. I want everything with you.”
He kisses me now, kisses me hard and then soft, as I tug off his t-shirt, as he arranges our bodies together and brings his cock lower. He drags it through my slickness, coating himself before he wedges the tip right at my entrance.
Can he feel my pulse pounding there? When he sinks all the way into me and we’re chest to chest, will he feel my heart racing?
“Please,” I whisper. “Please take your wife.”
He moans as he pumps his hips, pushing just inside me. The stretch is more than I imagined, enough to take my breath away.
“Jesus, Molly, you’re so tight.” His grip on me shifts, his whole body vibrating as he eases back, then pushes in again. “How’s that?”
“Mmfff.” I can’t manage more than a surprised, please noise.
“You feel so good.” Another thrust claims new space inside me, and he’s so big.
“I feel so full,” I mumble.
I swear I feel his cock pulse and swell even bigger at that. “You can take more, baby.”
“Can I?” I squeak as he pushes deeper. “Okay. Whoa. Hang on.”
Jeff goes still, but I think he’s done it, I think he’s all the way inside me now, and it’s so much.
“You’re okay, yeah? Here …” He hooks my legs over his arms, shifting my body in subtle little ways as I get used to the feeling of him stuffing me completely like this. “Is that better, baby?”
Heat swirls through me at the repeated endearment, at the softness in his voice even as his body throbs against me, inside me, very hard and insistent. “Yeah, that’s better. But it’s so much.”
“I know. For me too. I can’t believe it.” He presses his forehead against mine. “Kiss me.”
I lift my face and find his mouth.
His lips fit against mine like we were meant to do this, like nothing has ever been as simple or easy as kissing each other. His tongue seeks mine softly, and the gentleness seeps into me, turning the desperate heat that made me beg for his too-big cock down to a languid, perfect simmering warmth.
He kisses me like he has all the time in the world, like nothing else matters even though he’s wedged himself into my panicking pussy and now neither of us can move.
But then something wonderful happens.
With each kiss, at this newfound simmer, my body starts to move against his. Just a little rocking at first, then more. I soften around him, getting slicker, and suddenly, he’s rocking with me.
“That’s my girl,” he praises. “You’re figuring it out. Take what you need, baby. Take all of me. I’m yours.”
The stretch is still breathtaking, strange and wild and … wonderful. The longer we kiss, the more he praises me, the better it feels.
And the more I move.
“Yeah, you need it now, don’t you?” Jeff’s hands slide against my body, hitching my hips closer to him. He squeezes my thighs and thrusts deeper, using my position as an anchor to start moving faster himself.
He keeps kissing me, and even between kisses, his mouth never leaves mine, both of us gasping for breaths with our lips still brushing, sharing air and need and sounds.
He makes the best sounds.
I can’t believe he’s inside me.
So deep inside me, making me feel incredible now.
“There,” I gasp.
He snaps his hips. “There?”
“Oh my god.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Never stop.”
“Not until you come on my cock.” He thrusts again. “I need to feel that.” Thrust. “Need.” His hips snap deep. “To.” Another thrust, and this one makes me moan, I’m so close. “Feel—”
There, there, don’t stop.
And even though I can’t get the words out, he knows. He hits the same spot over and over again, his thrusts punctuating his words, and I’m suddenly soaring.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” I babble against his lips.
He groans into my kiss, his tongue spearing deep, just like his cock. Fucking my mouth and my pussy and my entire body.
“Yes, please, more,” I beg, still riding the climax, and I’m clamping down on him, and he’s clutching at me, thrusting hard.
Groaning.
Stopping.
“I need to pull out,” he growls.
I wrap my legs around him, because nooo, I don’t want him to ever leave my body. That stretch is too good.
And then he’s pulsing.
“Fuck, I—You—”
I can feel it. He’s flooding me, deep inside, and there’s nothing between us. Nothing at all. “It’s okay,” I pant. “Please don’t pull out.”
There’s a beat of hesitation, and then he buries his face in my neck and groans again. “Never. You feel so good.”
We cling to each other, pulses pounding, skin sweat slicked and extra sensitive.
Then I ask, “Is this going to be really messy?”
He laughs and nods. “Yeah, baby.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats, slightly disbelieving, and then we’re both laughing, and it is messy, so messy, but he cleans me up, and then he cleans up my kitchen, and much later, when he’s tucked me into bed and I’m almost asleep with my head on his bare chest, my fingers playing in the lovely hair on his chest, I think about what a silly thing that is to say.
Okay.
But it’s also so simple that it’s perfect.
Okay.
In all my fantasizing about a white picket fence and a marriage and a spouse, I didn’t get granular enough to think about what sex might be like with my husband, not really. Other than I wanted it to be special, of course.
But to have it feel that good and be that powerful and then end in laughter and a simple, sweet agreement …
I know that I’ve chosen well.
“You’re smiling,” he says drowsily. “I can feel your cheek moving against my chest.”
“I’m happy,” I whisper back. “So happy.”