30. French by Name, French by Nature #2
I laugh and throw my arms around his neck, pulling my favourite face in the world down for a sweaty (at his end) kiss. ‘Nice dick,’ I whisper against his lips. ‘I hope you know what to do with it. And I love you, too.’
‘I have a fair idea,’ he says, closing the gap even further and pressing his hardness against my stomach. And then he’s sluicing us down with the warm spray, water coursing over my nipples and between our bodies.
I pump some shower gel into my hands and get to work washing the sweat off my husband’s gorgeous body.
He takes a step back and lets me work. He knows how much I love doing this.
I’m still his little slave girl in all the best ways.
I glide my hands lovingly over glorious hard muscle and he flicks the shower head this way and that, washing off the suds between teasing my nipples.
When I slip my hand under his dick and soap up his balls, we both groan.
This guy’s definitely building up to a good release, and my need’s building too.
Quickly. I slide my soapy hand up and down his rigid length, loving the impossible hardness in my grip.
Our eyes are locked. His breathing is growing more ragged.
‘I need you,’ my husband says in that low growl that undoes me every time.
I reach over and turn off the handheld shower. ‘I want it hard,’ I tell him.
He moves us so we’re fully under the torrent and kisses me ravenously, his tongue devouring mine as his hands glide over my body. Then he’s grabbing me under my bum and hiking me up so my back is against the smooth pebbled wall.
I don’t need to be asked. I wrap my legs and arms tightly around him. Instantly, he’s nudging at my entrance, and I shimmy in his arms in my desperation to get his cock inside me. I drop my forehead to his and revel in the unique sensation that is being filled up by Zach French.
It’s indescribable. I’m beyond words as I struggle to accommodate my husband.
I bear down as much as I can, and we stay like that for a moment.
Utterly still. His dick pulsing with need inside me.
Our kisses slow and greedy and sensual. The water pouring over us drowns out every other sound except for our breaths and the relentless hum of the cicadas.
Then he says, ‘Hold on tight, sweetheart,’ and I do, and he begins to move inside me, pushing me up against the wall so he can thrust up into me again and again and again, and fuck me, it’s incredible. I cling to him and take the punishing drives that have me winding higher and higher.
It’s so intense. Being here with my family in this paradise. Having my husband cage me in like this, the look in his eyes telling me nothing else matters for him in this moment but me, and the growing harshness of his thrusts telling me how badly he needs this.
Needs me.
I need him too. This man has given me the world, and still he won’t stop giving and giving, and my heart is so full it could explode. I don’t know how anyone can take this much happiness. This much pleasure.
I don’t know how I ever, ever got this lucky.
‘I love you so much,’ I murmur against his beautiful mouth, my heart full and eyes wet and voice shaky. And it seems my words move him, too, because he pushes up more powerfully than ever.
‘Fuck, I love you too, sweetheart,’ he says, one hand wrapping around the back of my neck. ‘You close?’
Close doesn’t even describe it. The combination of sensation and emotion is so intoxicating I’m barely functioning. Because this is how it always is with my husband. When we’re together like this, it isn’t just about orgasms. It’s fucking transcendent.
Obviously, I’m in no position to articulate anything like that in this moment, so I just nod madly and whimper, ‘Yes. Yes.’
I’m on a precipice. Zach’s thrusts are feeding the ache that’s building and threatening to morph into something exquisite. Something I can’t possibly withstand.
So I don’t.
I give myself over to the feeling of my husband showing me how much he loves me. I allow the heat to spread across my body. I let my head slump forward, and I slurp at the skin of his shoulder.
I let him do all the work, basically.
I take and I take and the pleasure grows and shimmers.
And then it detonates deep inside me, in a place only Zach can help me reach, and I bite down on his shoulder as I attempt to muffle my cries, grabbing furiously at his soaking hair as I writhe and convulse in his arms.
He follows me right over the edge with a low roar, pressing me up against the wall as he goes rigid and comes.
And comes.
When we’re done, I lift my head with difficulty and let it drop back against the wall. My husband is gazing at me, those astonishingly blue eyes still glassy from his orgasm but shining with unconditional love.
He’s not the tightly wound, self-judgemental ball of stress and grief I first met. This Zach is lighthearted and joyous, with the most immense capacity for love. He’s still the grownup in our relationship—thank fuck—but he lives life hard and fully and open-heartedly.
And he tells me over and over that he’s got me to thank for that.
‘Holiday fucking is the best,’ I slur, and he grins like I’ve just made the cleverest comment of all time.
‘The best,’ he agrees.
I smile and rake his hair away from his forehead. He’s still holding me up. Still inside me.
‘This place is heaven,’ I sigh. ‘I wish we never had to go home.’
His grin changes to an I did a thing grin.
I stiffen. ‘What did you do?’
‘Happy birthday, darling,’ he says, going in for a kiss.
I oblige and then swat him away.
‘Zach. What did you do?’
‘I wouldn’t make a decision this big without you,’ he begins carefully. ‘But everyone seems to adore this place, and it feels right. So I put an offer in, and they’ve accepted it. If you’d like to go ahead, we’ll buy it.’
I gape at him, momentarily speechless. My eyes fill up the entire rest of the way, instantly. I can’t even—I don’t know what to say. This is insane. God knows how many millions a villa like this costs in a place this fancy, but—
‘Say something,’ he says. He nudges my nose with his.
‘Can we afford it?’ I say meekly.
His smile is smug, and powerful, and fucking hot. ‘You know we can.’
‘Oh my God.’ I crane my head, though I can’t see much beyond the shower enclosure. ‘I can’t even imagine it. Coming here over and over?’
‘It makes sense,’ he says. ‘We can get a boat. It’d be lovely out of season, too. We could even come here for Christmas. Bring the grandparents. What do you think?’
‘I’m overwhelmed,’ I say. ‘You’ve got to stop giving me stuff. One person should never be this lucky.’ A fat tear rolls down my cheek as I stare at my impossibly generous, loving husband.
‘I mean, obviously it’s for all of us,’ he says as he wipes my tear away with his thumb.
‘And yeah, it’s extravagant. But honestly, sweetheart, we get one life.
And it’s fucking short. You gave me a second shot at happiness, so let’s make a home here and make as many fucking memories as we can, the six of us. Okay?’
Well, it’s hard to argue with that.