Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
HARLOW
My last appointment of the day tapped out earlier than expected.
Instead of texting Frankie to come get me, I decide to use the extra forty minutes to sketch in the backroom.
The muted rock music helps drown out my thoughts as I work out the Old Lady tattoo I want.
Lost in the sketch, I jump a little when I feel warm breath against the side of my throat.
I can smell his warm spicy scent, that delicious mingling of vanilla, cardamon, and the deep woodsy scent. Frankie. My body relaxes. His lips press to my throat, and I can’t help but smile. “That’s where it’s going to go.”
His tongue slips out, running lightly against the blank space on the side of my neck. I have some flowers on the other side, so this will give some balance to my neck. His teeth give a little nip. “Right here. Fuck that’s hot.”
He leans forward some, taking a look at what I have so far. “Do you like it?”
“I fucking love it. I like the mix of moon and stars you have with them.” His hands run down my arms.
“It’s a play off my ring.” I tap it against the desk. “You don’t mind that I didn’t call you to come get me early?”
“Not at all. It’s not like I didn’t know where you were and this”—he motions to the sketch—”is well worth the time apart.” He kisses the side of my throat again.
I give a light laugh at his words and find a sick satisfaction in the idea that he tracks me for his peace of mind. Honestly, knowing he does brings me peace of mind as well. I want to ask how it went today, but I also don’t want to spoil this moment. “Take me home.”
“Whatever my wife wants,” he breathes his words against my ear before helping me up.
We collect my things and then we are off.
My mind floats, I love the feel of the wind brushing against me while I cling to Frankie’s body.
I slide my hand up under his leather jacket and then below his tee.
Splaying my hand, I let my nails rest firmly against his skin.
A groan sounds through the comms. Biting down on my lip, I know exactly what I want to do with my husband once he gets me home.
It feels as though it takes longer than usual to get home with how much I really want to get Frankie naked.
We pull into the driveway where he kills the engine and I hop off.
He pushes his bike into the garage. The heavy sound of a large truck draws my attention, my brows pinch as it begins a slow pace down the street, it looks like a moving truck.
“Sexy girl?” Frankie calls out.
A smile fills my face as I turn back toward him.
His brows go up a little then that deviously sexy grin of his pushes slowly up because he knows exactly what I want.
He crooks his finger my way. As I move slowly toward him, into the garage, I give a light laugh.
“Don’t forget we have Ronny-boy beyond that door that will need some love before I can give you some love. ”
He chuckles with a nod. “Yeah, we better get that done, but hold whatever thought you have in your head. I want to explore the fuck out of it.”
I snicker as I slip past him as he holds the door for me and reaches out to press the button for the garage door.
Ron Ron comes blowing through the kitchen heading our way.
We both crouch down in the mudroom that is also the laundry room and offer our boy a hefty dose of love.
When he seems to have had his fill, he gives us one of his meows that feels like he is saying ‘Done with you, move along.’ And trust me, this works for me.
I squeal as Frankie yanks me up off my feet carting me into the kitchen.
Clearly it works for Frankie too. He plops me down on the edge of the kitchen counter, reaching down he unbuckles my chunky, almost-like-platforms, Mary Janes.
Dropping them to the ground, we both spread my thighs for him to step between.
His hands slide up the outside of my thighs then back around to clutch my ass.
“Do I need to feed your first?” He asks always mindful of what I might need.
I nod.
His head rocks and he starts stepping back and twisting away from me to check the fridge. “Mom sent an enchilada casserole home with me earlier. I can throw together a salad to go with it?”
Slipping off the counter, my frilly socked feet silently touch down, I slide in behind him as he opens the fridge door. My hands grasp his hips and urge him to turn toward me. He turns his head first, his body slowly following. “I didn’t mean that kind of feed me.”
He gives a heavy chuckle. “I see. What shall I feed you?”
The fridge door finds its way shut as I sink to my knees before my husband.
My husband. A thrill runs through me. Me and Frankie.
Frankie and me. Forever. His eyes follow me, keeping hold of mine as my hands slide around from his hips toward the fastener on his worn in work pants.
I fucking love how these look on him. They hug him in all the right places.
I love the worn in look too, it just fits him.
Getting them unfastened, I drop the zipper next, letting my hand wrap the curve of his rapidly hardening cock as I do.
His hand cups around the side of my head. “I fucking love you.”
I grin up at him as my fingers work his pants and boxers down. “Say it again.”
His cock pulls free from his boxers, slapping back against his stomach, and we both smile bigger, our eyes hooked together. “I. Fucking. Love. The. Motherfucking. Shit. Out of you, wife. Fuck you are the center of every fucking fantasy. Every fucking thought. You. Are. Everything.”
A shiver runs down my spine as I flick my tongue out, catching the little bead of pre-cum collecting.
His warm lightly salty taste hit me, and I can’t help but savor it a moment.
Frankie’s expression hardens, not from anger, from his intense focus.
Of which I am the center of. Sliding my tongue back out, tracking around the crown of him, I get the pleasure of taking in more of him.
The way he smells. The way he sounds. The way he looks.
The way he tastes. Frankie is definitely not the only one obsessed in this marriage.
His lips push up into a deliciously brutal grin as I take him in my mouth, sliding down.
I let my nails scrape along his thighs as I lick around and down his cock.
His lips part as I struggle to get more of him in.
A heavy groan rumbles out of him. Fingers sift into my hair clutching tightly at my scalp as I work my nails toward his balls.
Continuing to suck, lick, and bob my mouth up and down his thick length.
My nails reach his balls, and I give them a gentle rake as I watch him.
He groans louder and nods. If I could smirk with a mouth full of Frankie, I would, but he has my lips stretched so tight.
I wrap my fingers around his balls, letting the tips of my nails lightly press against him.
I wrap my other around the base of his shaft, working him with my mouth and hand in time.
Tapping the tips of my nails against his balls as I grasp him, his head tips back, he lets out a rasping sound.
Frankie’s head tips back down, his hands tighten on my scalp.
I slide a couple of my fingers back a bit, letting my nails drag against his skin before pressing them with care into the tender space just behind his balls. His lips drop wide. “Fuck.”
Knowing he is hooked, I give them a little scrape, a little press, a little drag, a little tap.
Frankie’s hips start to flex, pumping himself down my throat a little more.
I focus on sucking as I keep the movement of my nails on his sensitive flesh.
The pads of his fingers press against my scalp. “Fuck. Harry. Fuck. Sexy girl.”
I suck harder knowing he is right there and scratch one nail down that flesh and he loses it.
He growls out my name and fires heavy ropes down my throat.
Most never even hit my tongue because of how deep I managed to swallow him down.
I pull back some for air and to get the chance to actually appreciate every aspect of my husband’s release.
One last, final, tremor rolls through his hips and across my tongue.
His hand disengaged from my head and wraps around my jaw.
“Hold,” he grunts.
I hold my tongue out, his cum streaked across it.
His eyes roam my face, taking all of me in then focus on his cum cupped on my tongue.
He nods slowly as he watches me and I pull my tongue in, closing my lips.
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth and swallow.
Again. I slide my tongue around across the roof of my mouth and swallow again. His heady taste overtaking my senses.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
I smile up at him. His thumb comes up, brushing under my eye. Then the other. I flex my fingers, letting my nails prickle against his flesh again. He struggles down a hard swallow.
“Sexy g?—”
Both of us startle with the sound of a hard, pounding knock at the front door.
“Fuck.” Frankie grits as we both struggle to put him back in his boxers and pants.
Frankie helps me back to my feet, his hands coming up to rub and wipe at my lips and cheeks.
I try to smooth at my hair but realize my hand is still damp from saliva.
I rush to the sink as we hear the front door unlocking. Frankie curses again.
My head snaps over to look at him. “Who has a key?”
“Everyone,” he grumps as he tries to smooth his clothes and heads to the living room to catch whoever is coming in.
“Knock-knock!” Jolt’s voice calls out through the house.