7. Shay

Chapter 7

Shay

The warmth of the fluffy duvet beneath me battles the chill seeping through the old ranch house, but it’s Henry’s presence that truly fills the space with heat.Snowflakes drift outside the windows, and I can make out his silhouette as he looms over me.

His hand drifts down my arm to take my hand in his, and he lifts it to his lips. “Shay, will you be my wife?”

I look into his eyes. “But I am your—” I stop. “Oh, you mean…”

Henry’s silver eyes hold mine, blazing with intensity. “Will you?”

“Yes, Henry. Now and always.” I know I’ve revealed too much, but I can’t bring myself to care. I want this. I want Henry, not only now, but for all our days. This ranch is my home now. He’s my home.

He presses a fevered kiss to my mouth, hot, soft, and demanding. It’s nothing like the kisses we shared by the barn or at the wedding earlier. This one consumes my breath and makes my heart thunder along with my nerves.

I shift restlessly on the bed, and he pulls back to look at me, his gray eyes tracing the lines of my face like they’re committing every detail to memory.

His hands move to the hem of my sweatshirt. His fingers are rough, calloused from years of work, but the way they graze my skin is achingly gentle. He pauses, his gaze flickering to mine, silently asking for permission.

I nod, breathless, and he pulls the sweatshirt over my head, tossing it aside. My sweatpants quickly follow, leaving me in only my bra and panties. His eyes darken as they roam over me, lingering on my breasts heaving against my lacy bra, the curve of my stomach, and my thighs. His hand trails up my arm and across my collarbone before settling at the base of my throat. The weight of his palm there is steady, as if he’s anchoring himself to this moment.

His hands move again, working the clasp of my bra with practiced ease, and when it falls away, his sharp intake of breath is a sound I’ll never forget. He cups my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples as his lips find mine in a kiss that’s both searing and tender.

With one hand, he slides my panties down my thighs, unwrapping me like a gift.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. Love these big breasts and lush hips,” Henry mutters, his heated gaze taking in every abundant inch of me.

The words are heavy with sincerity, settling deep in my chest and warming parts of me I didn’t know were cold.

I have nothing to compare this to, but my nervousness suddenly falls away with his words. I remember the unkind comments about my weight growing up. I’ve always been unashamedly curvy, but those taunts still cut deep. But all of my father’s cruel words, all the hurts and slights in my past, no longer matter because lying naked in Henry’s arms feels honest and right.

I lose myself in him—in the way his hands explore, reverent and slow, in how he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters. I can’t think, can’t breathe, except to whisper his name.

“Henry.” My voice catches as he sucks my nipple into his hot mouth.

He stands abruptly, shucking out of his clothes and leaving them in a pile on the floor. Holy shit, I thought he was gorgeous fully clothed, but naked Henry is a sight to behold. I half expect a choir of angels to descend from above and sing Hallelujah. He’s all long lines and hard angles from the physical work he carries out daily. Broad shoulders, defined arms, thick, muscular thighs, and a smattering of dark hair across his chest that arrows down to his…

Oh, my. That happy trail should be lit up like a Christmas tree because beneath it is a gift far larger than I anticipated. I haven’t seen a cock in the flesh before, but if there were a world championship for what Henry’s packing, he’d take home the gold—and probably break a few records while he’s at it.

I know I’m blushing. My cheeks are on fire. His shaft arcs proudly away from his body, the tip shining with a bead of precum. My mouth waters with the need to taste him.

Clambering off the bed, I reach out, my fingers quaking as I grasp him firmly. I give him a few pumps, relishing the soft skin covering steely hardness. I glance at him, wanting to know if I’m doing it right. He nods, his jaw tight, his piercing gray eyes locked onto mine.

I sink to my knees and brush my lips against his tip. He shudders as his hands fist my hair, guiding me but allowing me to explore. I trace my tongue along his length, savoring the tang of his skin, the pulse of his cock against my lips.

I slide my lips over him, taking him deeper, stretching my mouth around his girth. His low rumble of approval echoes around us, sparking a raw desire to drive him to the brink. My mouth and hand move in tandem, working together as his groans grow deeper. He looms over me, powerful yet trembling under the slickness of my mouth and tongue. His reaction ignites my confidence, urging me to please him.

Henry’s hips surge to meet my mouth, matching my pace. His pleasure fuels mine, encouraging me to take him deeper, to coax out more of those raw, guttural sounds that tell me I'm pleasing him.

The tip of my tongue teases and swirls, pressing into the slit at the end to taste him—a heady mixture of musk and man. I want to devour him, tattoo his taste into my memory, and drench every sense.

I suck harder, my cheeks hollowing, my tongue rippling and teasing along his length. His breath hitches, and his hips move faster as he fucks my mouth. It's intoxicating. Empowering. His ragged breathing tells me he’s getting close.

“Fuck, Shay. You’re driving me crazy,” he growls.

Hearing my name on his lips like that causes wetness to seep from my sex, slicking my inner thighs. I'm not just giving him pleasure; I'm dismantling him piece by piece, each deliberate flick of my tongue stripping away his control. I revel in the way he surrenders, his head tipping back, exposing the taut lines of his neck as tension coils through him, raw and unrestrained.

"Oh God, Shay," he groans.

I look up, my gaze trailing along the defined lines of his neck, the corded strength of his muscles, until it lands on his face. His eyes are shut, his features etched with pure, unadulterated bliss.

This is all me. I’m the one unraveling him, driving him to the edge. The realization sends a rush of pride and desire through me, intoxicating and addictive. I want more—I want to see how far I can take him, how completely I can make him fall apart.

I quicken my pace, my head moving rhythmically along his length while my hand works the base, adding to his torment. More precum beads at the tip, mingling with my saliva as I savor him. He tastes raw, primal, and utterly addictive. I can't get enough.

Henry groans again, his work-roughened hands pushing my hair back and holding my head in place as I take him even deeper until the head of his cock hits the back of my throat. I gag reflexively.

He fists my hair more tightly. "That's it, Shay. Take every fucking inch," he commands.

I obey, determined to drive him insane. Me, virginal-Shay-turned-avid-cocksucker. But only with him. With Henry. My husband.

“Shay,” he grunts, his hips faltering. “I'm gonna come, sweetheart. If you don’t want it, pull away now.”

Pull away? Nu-uh. I want all of it. Every drop. I shake my head slightly, and his head tips back.

“Fuck!”

With that warning, his cum fills my mouth. There’s so much that it spills down my chin and onto my breasts.

Henry is panting as he pulls me up and kisses me fiercely. Unbelievably, his cock is still hard between us.

“Isn’t that… supposed to go down?” I ask when he lets me up for air, glancing between us.

Henry chuckles. “Yeah, but I guess he didn’t get the memo where you’re concerned because, fuck, you're incredible. I've never come like that before.”

He drops a kiss on my swollen mouth before moving to the adjoining bathroom. He returns a minute later with a warm washcloth and cleans his cum from my mouth and breasts. I shiver as he uses it to circle my nipples, reigniting the pulse of desire between my legs.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, dipping his head to suck my nipple into his mouth.

“If it’s anything like what you’re doing to me, I have a pretty good idea,” I squeak as he bites down gently. “I want you, Henry. All of you.”

He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. "Are you sure?"

I pause, pretending to reconsider as I glance at his thick cock. “Well, having had that in my mouth, I’m now wondering how it’ll fit in my vagina, so…”

He frowns, taking me at face value. “We don’t have to?—”

“Yes. We do,” I say, cutting him off by pressing my fingers against his mouth. “I know this was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but we don’t have to be in love to enjoy each other.”

Something flickers in his eyes at my words, but it’s swiftly gone. Then he scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bed, his eyes locked on mine as he lays me down gently. His big, naked body looms over me as he joins me on the bed, his lips finding mine in a deep kiss. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

His hands roam my body, exploring every curve, every inch. I arch into his touch, wanting more, needing more. His fingers find my breasts, teasing, pinching, driving me wild.

I moan into his mouth, my body arching beneath him. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck, my collarbone, my chest. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking, biting, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

I gasp, my hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention, driving me wild with desire.

“Are you nervous?”

My gaze flies to his at the unexpected question. I shake my head. “No. Are you?”

“A little,” he admits gruffly, his cheeks ruddy. “Been a long time for me, and I want to make this good for you.”

I can’t help the spark of pleasure his admission gives me. His vulnerability makes this all the more poignant.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, it’s been never for me, so you have a blank canvas. Paint on me however you like. I think I’m already addicted to your brushstrokes.”

I jerk as he covers my nipple with his mouth, his tongue warm and moist as he drags it over the hard peak. “Like this?” he growls. “This the kind of strokes you mean?”

“Oh, yes,” I agree wholeheartedly. “Just like that.”

His mouth moves lower, licking and nibbling my stomach. “How about here?”

I giggle as he finds a ticklish spot. “That feels good too—oh!”

I lose my breath and arch off the bed as he slips a finger inside me.

He groans, his eyes darkening with desire. "You're so wet for me, wife. So ready."

His fingertips delve into the slick, hot folds of my sex, testing, experimenting, looking for the exactly right place to stroke me. When he finds my clit, I let out a muffled cry and turn my face into his neck. Henry murmurs to me while continuing his torturous massage.

My heart pounds so hard against my ribs that I think it will burst from my chest. Tongues of flame flick through me, all gathering in the tight fireball burning between my legs.

My hands seek him, the hardness of his hipbones, the smoothness of his flanks, the rigid cock throbbing against my thigh. When I wrap my hand around him, he sucks in a breath and presses his thumb hard against my clit.

I explode into a vortex of heat and sensation. My body moves on instinct, grinding my pussy against his hand as I’m pulled into a place where nothing and no one exists but Henry and me. I sob his name as wave upon wave of spasms rack my body.

At last, the contractions subside, and I lie limp and dazed on the mattress, astounded by the pleasure Henry coaxed from me.

He presses kisses over my cheeks, my forehead, my mouth, winding my hair in his fist. “Fuck, Shay. You’re beautiful when you come apart,” he rasps, his breath hot and rapid against my ear.

I lick my lips, catching my breath. “Wow, that was… Wow.”

His chest rumbles against mine deliciously as he chuckles. “You’re damn good for my ego, wife.”

“Is it”—I lick my lips again—“always like this?”

Henry shakes his head. “No, sweetheart. It’s never been like this.”

“Really?”

He nods this time, his silver eyes flashing with an elusive emotion. “It’s never been this natural. This… right,” he admits gruffly.

Ah, this man’s proud, grumpy demeanor hides a wounded heart. The sudden need to be the one to heal it is overwhelming.

I slide my hands through his hair, pulling his head down so his mouth is an inch from mine. “Please, Henry. I need you.”

“Ready to be mine, Shay Sutton?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m ready. I—” My breath hisses out as Henry pushes inside me in one powerful thrust.

Pain. Fullness. I gasp, my body stretching to accommodate him. I try to squirm away from him, but he holds me fast, smothering my protests with kisses and rough-whispered apologies.

“Burns,” I choke, biting my lip.

“Shhh, my beautiful wife. It’ll get better, I promise,” Henry murmurs, brushing away a tear as he holds still inside me.

I nod, clenching my hands on his shoulders. “I know. I trust you.”

His forehead drops to my shoulder. “Fuck, I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But I’m keeping you. You’re mine now.”

“Well, you’ve skewered me like a marshmallow on a campfire stick, so yeah, I’d say that’s a given,” I huff, forcing my body to relax.

His laughter rumbles through me again, welcome and comforting. “How do you do that? Make me laugh when I’m trying to be serious?”

“It’s a gift.” I shrug. “Have to say, though, I didn’t expect sex to be like this, with the talking and all. I thought it was all whip it in, whip it out, and wipe it.”

“Sex is whatever we want it to be,” he says, his eyes darkening to pewter. He does something with his hips that makes me gasp.

“Oh! That feels…”

“Good?”

“Yeah. Do it again,” I demand.

He grins, his cock still deep inside me as he circles his hips. “Like this?”

“Oh, God. Yes, just like that,” I moan as his pelvis rubs deliciously against my clit.

“Need to move,” he says through gritted teeth. “Tell me to stop if it hurts.”

“Okay. Yes, yes, move now,” I urge as sensation slithers along my nerve endings.

Pulling out, Henry thrusts home into my tight warmth.

“Oh. Oh, yes. I like that. Again, but faster. Harder,” I instruct.

“Bossy woman,” he growls.

“I think I might be when it comes to this. Who knew?” I pant as he does as I ask, sinking inside me deeper, harder.

Henry groans, his head falling back, his neck corded with tension. “God, Shay. You feel incredible.”

I smile, getting into the swing of things now. “You too. This is… I think I’d like to do this again.”

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that sends shivers down my spine. “You're something else, you know that?”

I beam at him. “I do. No, don’t stop,” I add, slightly panicked as he plunges deep and holds still inside me.

“Oh, now you want me to move?” he teases.

I don’t answer with words. Instead, I grab his muscular ass, wrap my legs around his waist, and squeeze my internal muscles around him.

“Ah, fuck,” he grunts as I pulse around him. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Not sure,” I huff. “I think it’s a natural skill. Vaginal gymnastics.”

He laughs, causing me to tighten around him. His laugh becomes a groan as he starts to move, his hips thrusting, his body driving into mine.

His hands find mine, our fingers intertwining, our bodies moving in sync. I match his rhythm, clumsily at first, then with increasing confidence as the fire inside me flares out of control.

“Henry, please,” I mewl, unsure exactly what I’m begging for.

“I’ve got you,” he rasps, sliding a hand between us to where we’re joined. His eyes lock onto mine as his thumb finds my clit, his gaze intense. “Are you gonna come for me again, wife?”

“I think so,” I pant as the pleasure crystalizes in my sex. “Make that a yes,” I wail as I surrender to the spasms of ecstasy washing through me.

Henry pounds into me with a savage grunt as I milk his cock, his body tensing, his release pouring into me. He groans, his head falling back, his back arching as he seals his hips to mine. He holds there for endless seconds before collapsing on top of me, breathing hard.

We lie there for a moment, our bodies still joined, our breaths ragged and uneven. Finally, he pulls away, rolling onto his side and pulling me with him.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back a little to look at me.

“Uh-huh,” I mumble dreamily, smoothing my hand over his chest. “When can we do it again?”

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