Blair
After the wedding guests trickle off, heading back to the ranch to set out food the girls have spent days preparing, Denver tosses a cooler bag down below our tree and lays out a simple plaid blanket. And before long, I’m sinking into his embrace under the warm autumn sun. Golds and yellows and reds stretch as far as the eye can see, and the occasional fluttering leaf from our tree floats down to us.
“I love our spot,” I say with a contented sigh.
“Maybe one day we should build a house right here.” He tugs the cooler bag toward us and starts unloading the picnic he insisted on packing by himself.
I raise an eyebrow. “Not sure how it would work for a house—what with being so far from the ranch or any roads.”
“Sounds perfect. We can be nudists because nobody will bug us all the way out here.”
“And during the winter we’ll get cabin fever and kill each other. Perfect. ”
“Hey,” he scolds, uncorking a bottle of sparkling white wine and handing it to me. “No talk of murdering me on our wedding day. Save that for your next girls’ night, at the very least.”
I smile behind the bottle of wine, letting the bubbles pop and fizz on my tongue. It’s a lot like the way every smile of Denver’s makes me feel.
He pulls out a pint of ice cream and a spoon, and laughs when I eagerly set down the wine in response.
“Told you we’d have your perfect ice cream at our wedding.” He carefully feeds me a heaping spoonful of the perfect blend of all three flavors. Then takes a bite himself.
“Mmm. You got a little…” I lean in and kiss away the small dab of chocolate ice cream on his upper lip.
With a smirk, he smears the spoon across his lips, leaving a trail of melting ice cream for the taking. His playful eyes meet mine with a daring stare. This time, I laugh softly before dragging my tongue to lap up the sweet treat.
“You’re a shit,” I say. Before he realizes what’s happening, I dip my finger into the ice cream and tap it against his right dimple.
The perfect fucking snack.
And he palms the back of my skull, consuming me with an ice-cream-flavored kiss. We savor it, reveling in the feel of our tongues exploring one another like they’re licking the most decadent cone. I melt into him, dropping my hands to his button-up shirt and slowly undoing the tiny metal buttons until my fingers can weave into the fine hair across his chest.
I kiss his bare skin, trailing my tongue to trace the branded scar on his pec, and grabbing at the buckle of his pants. All I can think about is recreating our first time—making love on a picnic blanket under our tree. And maybe this time, Denver can carve our wedding date into the tree below our names to memorialize this place once again.
I pull back and look at his perfect fucking face. This man. This handsome, smart, hardworking man with boyish charm and so much love to give.
My husband.
He holds up his spoon to offer me a bite, and I take it without hesitation. Until halfway to my mouth, when I have a new idea.
Slowly, the metal handle spins between my fingertips, and when the cold ice cream hits his bare chest, Denver inhales sharply through gritted teeth.
“ Shit. ” He moves to wipe it with his hands when I aggressively stop him with the swat of my hand.
And I lick my man like a goddamn ice cream cone. Weaving up his abs, cleaning every groove in his muscle until I swirl around a nipple and smile up at him.
The column of his neck quivers with a hard swallow. “ Holy fuck, . You’re so goddamn hot.”
“Yeah? Come here, baby. Let me have my dessert and eat it, too.” I jerk at the waist of his pants, and he lifts his ass up enough to let me pull them off, until he’s wearing nothing but an unbuttoned shirt and a thick erection.
My palm wraps around his girth, and I give a couple slow tugs to elicit a moan from him. With my free hand, I push hard on his chest, forcing him back so he’s propped up on his elbows. And without breaking eye contact, I suck the head of his cock into my mouth for a moment. Just enough to have him grumbling when I pop off.
“That’s my good boy.” I bite my bottom lip, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the way his cock flicks when my nails run along the soft skin of his inner thigh. “My husband needs his cock sucked, doesn’t he?”
“Fucking hell. Call me your husband again.”
“Does my husband need his wife to take care of him?”
He nods, then groans when I take his pulsating cock back into my mouth. He’s needy in the best way, grabbing at my hair and moaning under his breath while he fills every bit of space left in my mouth. Thrusting forward with a spontaneous convulsion that makes my eyes water. Whimpered curse words slip from his lips with every dip of my head; he’s practically feral, and that only makes me want to please him so much more.
“Such a good wife. Always so fucking greedy for a mouthful of my cock.” He wipes a dribble of spit from my chin, thrusting his hips upward to fuck my face.
His dick slips from between my lips, taking a strand of saliva with it, and I stare up at him while I lick it away. He quivers, and I reach for the ice cream with a devilish smirk. Denver eyes me as I take a heaping scoop, tilting his head with a blend of confusion and excitement.
Strawberry pink droplets fall from the spoon’s edge, splattering in an uneven row along his shaft, and he jolts with a hiss after every freezing sensation. My lips slide around his cock, taking him as deep into my throat as I can manage with the way his hips buck under me. Letting the warmth of my mouth finish melting the ice cream, and he thrusts deeper when I swallow around his shaft.
“ Fucking…damn it, . ” He gasps. “Holy shit, that feels so weird, but good .”
So I repeat it, drizzling half-melted ice cream over him. He moans at the cold, tangling his hands in my hair in an effort to get me to suck it off. Only this time, I refuse to rush—slow, attentive licks ensure every last sticky, sweet taste of ice cream has been cleaned from his hard cock. Getting the perfect mixture of salty and sweet when he leaks pre-cum from his tip.
“Tastes even better eating it this way.” I dive back in and lick his cock from base to tip in one slow, steady stroke.
Then I take him fully into my mouth, clenching my thighs together at his sounds of pleasure. My hair wrapped around his hand, Denver guides me to bob in his lap.
“Yes,” he hisses. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Take all of it.”
Reaching between my legs, I press two fingers over my soaking wet underwear and apply steady pressure to my clit. Desperate for relief, overcome with a knotted warmth that’s aching to unravel below my belly button.
All at once, he forces my mouth from him with a raspy moan. “Ride me, baby. I don’t want to come before my cock’s been inside your sweet, wet pussy.”
Me neither.
For safety purposes, I pool saliva on my tongue and go down on him with a final, attentive bob. My cheeks hollow to suck any remaining ice cream from his cock. The back of my hand swipes across my mouth to clean up the excessive amount of spit, and I consider whether the sloppy mess I’ve made of his lap is enough to clean him well enough.
Fuck it.
Helping shimmy my underwear down my thighs, he stares up at me with a look of bliss. “Jesus Christ, I have the sexiest wife in the world.”
The title makes my heart flip. Somehow—by some stroke of fate or luck…maybe both—I’ve been given the opportunity to love this man twice in a single lifetime.
I lean in to kiss him, positioning myself so his cock bobs against my entrance. And I grip it, stroking while dragging the head between my pussy lips, eagerly watching every telling expression on his face.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” His fingers dig into my thighs. “Be a good wife and sit on my cock. I want your cum dripping down me like ice cream.”
The tip slips in with ease, and I slowly settle onto his lap with a moan. The stretch of my muscles around his cock makes me throw my head back in ecstasy, with hair cascading down my back and the autumn sun warm on my face. His hands find their way to my hips, bunching my dress up so he can watch himself sink into me, and keeping me steady as I come close to falling apart. Being here with him is heaven on Earth, and when he drives upward to ensure I’m getting every last damn millimeter of his cock, I swear there are angels singing.
Denver adjusts the angle slightly, hitting my G-spot with a whimper. I moan and fall forward until our foreheads touch. And he thrusts with a new primal need while sweeping my hair away from our faces.
“I know, baby,” he replies to the whine escaping my lips in short bursts. “Feels so fucking good for me, too.”
Placing a soft kiss on my lips, he holds his palms to my shoulders to sit me upright again. His jaw ticks when he looks up at me, entire body shuddering while my pussy clenches around him. Every muscle in my body is stiffening with an impending orgasm, and he rockets me up and down on his lap, forcing his cock to hit my G-spot until I’m crying out so loudly they can probably hear us back at the ranch.
“I.” Thrust. “Love.” Thrust. “You.” Thrust. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his eyes close.
“I love you so much,” I say through an elated exhale, stroking the pad of my middle finger over my clit in rhythm with every bounce. Heat curls in my core and fireworks out when I feel the heat of his cum fill me, a low moan escaping through his gritted teeth.
Denver squints up at me with a satiated smile, eyes brimming with love, and pulls me into him for a slow kiss. If it weren’t for his unshaken hold on me, I’d be crumbling to the earth. And if that isn’t the perfect metaphor for our lives together, I don’t know what is. Time standing still when I’m encompassed by his touch, and the branches of our tree swaying above us, it’s like I’m sixteen again—madly in love with Denver Wells.
It’s always been Denver Wells.