Chapter Thirty-Seven
Atlas
Wendy and I are giggling up the walkway to the house, stuffed on tiramisu, chicken marsala, and love.
I keep my hand on the small of her back—to guide her, of course—and my fingers play with the soft skin I find there.
She didn't wear a coat, which I was thankful for. I got to admire her beautiful back and gently trail my fingers down her spine as we walked from the car to the restaurant. It was also a nice reminder that my sexy as fuck wife is braless right now.
At this moment, all is well in my world.
It's a mild late-February night, the beginnings of Spring just starting to peek through the brutal winter frost, the sun lingering longer and longer.
The air feels hopeful after such a roller-coaster winter, and it makes me determined to make this year the best yet.
Not to make up for the past—even if that's part of my goal—but because my family deserves it.
Wendy unlocks the front door and then turns to me, both of us not really sure what to do past this.
Dinner was amazing, as always. I had asked Gino for a favor, and because the Durants were frequent flyers of Antonia's, he closed the restaurant early so we could have complete privacy.
He turned on Sinatra's greatest romantic hits for us, personally served us our food at the candlelit table I set up earlier in the day, and told Wendy he made the tiramisu especially for her, making her blush and smile.
It was perfect, as any date with Wendy usually was. Just me admiring my girl from across the table, feeling so goddamn lucky to be granted a second chance.
"Do you want coffee?" Wendy asks suddenly, and even though we had coffee at the restaurant, and it's after eight, I'll take any excuse to not leave my wife.
Nodding, Wendy sighs in what looks like relief and leads me into the house. She drops her keys in the bowl by the door and takes off her heels. I reach out to steady her as she balances on one foot and then the other.
She winces when she places them back on the ground, stretching her gorgeous red painted toes, and my body moves without permission.
I sweep her up in my arms, and she gasps, "Atlas!"
"Your feet hurt," I shrug, offering my explanation.
She smiles, putting a hand on my cheek and leaning forward to kiss me. I keep my feet moving, easily maneuvering us into the kitchen, right to the island.
The kiss starts soft and sweet, until she opens her mouth and, as if we're of the same mind, mine does too. Our tongues tangle together, sending a jolt right to my cock as I taste her—coffee and cream and my wife.
I pull back to ask, "Was coffee code for—"
"Yes," Wendy mutters against my mouth. She pulls me back in deeper and nips at my bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue. Oh, fuck.
Letting her stay in control, I place her on the kitchen island. Not moving her lips from mine, I feel her hike the dress up to her thighs so she can spread her legs and let me between them.
Her soft hands are all over me—my shoulders, my arms, down to my stomach, before she reaches my belt and yanks me closer. I’m following her lead, but when she hikes her legs around my waist, that's it for my control.
I grind my hard as steel cock against her pussy, and I swear to God, I can feel how wet she is.
"I love you, baby," I groan against her lips. "Always have."
"Always will," she whispers, closing the distance once more.
I ignite like a fucking fire. We devour each other, hands all over as if we're remembering and learning at the same time.
She keeps rocking her hips to keep that amazing friction, and her hands tangle in my hair, gripping and pulling.
My hands travel down to her ass and squeeze, then up to her hips, all the way up to her gorgeous—did I mention braless—tits. She moans loudly when I knead and squeeze.
"Atlas," she moans breathy against my mouth, and I grin. "Touch me."
"I am, baby," I murmur, hands squeezing her tits again before travelling back down to her ass, memorizing and torturing myself.
After a couple of passes, she growls, reaching up to pull the dress down over her arms and letting it pool around her belly.
I pull back because I need to see her and—
Good fucking God...
This gives me a view of the most perfect pair of tits I've ever seen.
Still.
I feel like a teenager again, seeing her naked for the first time, with the way my eyes are bugging out of my head.
They've grown bigger after the kids, more than a handful with some tiger stripes down the sides. Her hard nipples are a mouthwatering pink. Then she giggles at the look on my face, making them jiggle slightly, and I lose my fucking mind.
"You are so fucking beautiful," I moan before kissing her once more, burning a path with my mouth down her jaw, her neck, her chest, and finally—finally—pulling her perfect, pebbled nipple into my mouth. "Perfect, pretty girl..."
Her hips jerk, rubbing against my dick as she moans at the first contact of my tongue, worshipping and sucking and laving all over her sensitive tits.
My hands keep busy, rolling and pinching the nipple my mouth isn't on.
God, I feel fucking possessed. I want more and more and more.
I am an addict for her pleasure, and her moans are like heroin. I move back and forth between her tits, worshipping both in equal measure before Wendy slides her hand down the front, rubbing against my cock.
I have to jerk my hips away because I know I'll only last about two seconds if she keeps touching me.
"Atlas," she whines, "I want to suck your cock."
She gasps as I give a firm suck, arching her back.
"No," I practically snarl against her, "This is all about you, baby. All you."
She moans as I kiss my way back up to her lips, lingering with soft little bites on her jaw.
Against her lips, I growl, "First, I'm gonna eat your pussy until you can't see straight."
"Please," she gasps, her hips rolling against my cock, making me moan.
"Keep doing that, baby," I groan, nipping her lips. "And when you're dripping from my face, that's when I'll slide my cock into this tight pussy, and I'm going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you—"
With that, I lift her up because I want her comfortable and safe in our bedroom—in our bed. I want to undo every bad memory in that room—her walking around, beautiful as fuck, trying to tempt me, and me pretending not to notice.
The last time we had sex when I was a selfish asshole. Yelling at her after my nightmare. Gaslighting her. Neglecting her. Ignoring her.
No, we're going to make new, better memories there.
Right fucking now.
Wendy giggles as I carry her out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and get us to the bedroom, where I gently place her on our bed.
Her deft hands have already unbuttoned my shirt, and she slides them over my shoulders and down my arms, our mouths not separating.
She pulls back to work on my belt, and her eyes catch her name across my chest, darker and bolder. I told Trigg, Trace’s brother, to make it bold, that I wanted it to show through if I was wearing a white T-shirt. Everyone should know who I belong to.
Her fingers gently caress her name, the light touch making me whimper and close my eyes. When I open them, they lock onto her left ring finger.
"You put your ring back on," I say.
I didn't say it earlier, partly out of superstition or thinking I maybe hallucinated it.
"It just felt right," she whispers, smiling up at me.
"I love you so much," I gently cup her face and press a long, sweet kiss to her lips.
Then I gently push her back and guide her to recline on the pillows. Lifting her hips while she moves back, she helps me pull the dress completely off of her and—Jesus Christ—she's in a sexy, black thong.
Silk and lace.
Amen.
I stay standing, struck dumb as I gaze at her. She’s divine. Her tits have little red marks on them from my mouth, her belly has some beautiful stretch marks from carrying our sons, and her creamy skin is as freckled as her face.
Her smile turns sexy and a little smug as she arches her back to tempt me.
Her left hand with her ring and all, glides down her body, squeezing her tit once, which makes her let out a breathy moan before it trails down her belly and slips into her panties.
My cock strains against my zipper and I practically rip the belt off, before sliding down my pants. She bites her lip when she sees it straining against my gray boxers, a prominent pre-cum stain at the front. I can't help but rub myself through the fabric as I watch this goddess pleasure herself.
"Atlas, please," she moans, arching her back.
That unmakes me. I'm on the bed between her spread legs, practically drooling as I gently take her hand out of her panties.
Her fingers are glistening and keeping eye contact, I bring them to my mouth, moaning at the taste of her—still so sweet and perfect.
She lifts her hips and helps me pull her panties down her long legs, then she spreads her legs, and I feel dizzy. She's fucking gorgeous. Pretty and pink, dripping wet, and my mouth salivates.
I've always loved eating Wendy's pussy, ever since the first time I did it.
I heard locker room talk from guys in high school, and even from some of the employees at the garage, who complained about having to do it, while also expecting to have their dicks sucked.
I didn't get it, because when I did it for Wendy, when I heard her moans, and made her come over and over, it was unreal how turned on it made me.
I remember one time, I was just completely lost in it, and stroking myself until I came just from eating her out.
"I've been thinking about this all—fucking—night," I moan, slipping my hands under her ass and lifting her to me.
And I feast.
Wendy moans at the first swipe of my tongue, swirling around her clit.
"You always taste so fucking good," I slur into her pussy, rocking my hips to get some kind of friction for my aching dick.