39. Tyler #2
“How long have you wanted me?” she asks breathlessly.
She sits up on me, pulling her bedtime t-shirt over her head and letting it fall to the floor.
She’s not wearing a bra, so I get instant access to her tits.
I sit up and peel my own shirt off and toss it away.
I contemplate her question while I kiss down her chest, brushing my lips on her nipple piercings.
There’s no one day. No one time. There were times when it was stronger or weaker. But there’s a part of me that always ached for Becca.
So I answer honestly. “Always.”
Becca’s face softens, even though she’s flicking her nipple studs between her fingers. “Then why don’t you do what you’ve always wanted to do to me?”
I tongue over one of the studs and wink up at her. “That might not be simple.”
She giggles. “You set the pace, Big Daddy.”
I sit all the way up and adjust us so she’s on her back and I’m on top of her. “What did I tell you about that name?”
She gives me her best innocent look. “That you might like it. But I did promise to go easy on you, so—” She shushes herself with a finger over her lips.
“Yeah. You’d better if you don’t want me to come all over your leg.”
I sit back on my heels and pull her bottoms and underwear all the way off. This is my first time seeing her naked, just for me. No one else is here. It’s just me, and her, and I don’t have to share her with anyone.
Mine.
But she’s missing one little touch.
“Where are your rings?”
She looks pointedly at a dish on her nightstand. “You want me to wear them?”
I nod. “Please.”
She lifts on an elbow and grabs the rings from the dish, sliding them onto her finger. Then she lies back on the bed, letting her left hand drift over her body.
“You are so fucking beautiful, baby.”
She smirks. “Because I’m yours?”
I shake my head. “Because you’re you.”
I prop myself over her and get to work. My eyes track my hand as I drag it down the middle of her body, from her neck, to the valley of her perfect tits, to the heat between her legs.
My fingers coast over her slit, and with even a light touch, I can tell she’s soaked.
“I don’t think it’s gonna be dry, baby.”
“No?”
I lower my face and stroke my tongue from her entrance to her clit, circling around the sensitive bud when I get to the top. I put a sloppy kiss on the inside of her thigh, all while holding her gaze.
“I don’t think so.”
I dive back in, marveling at how amazing she tastes.
We may not have had sex on our wedding night, and I may have already eaten her out once, but this feels sacred, marking, possessing.
The way her heels dig into the mattress at each slow pass of my tongue makes me feel like I got handed the keys to the castle.
Her stomach bows toward the ceiling, her fingers clutching the sheets.
I keep one hand planted on top of her thigh and send the other to reach inside her. My fingers are quickly coated in her wetness, and I spread her wider with my first finger and pinky.
Becca whimpers my name and I growl against her cunt. My cock starts to get more and more insistent that he needs a turn, but I’m determined to get her off this way before I fuck her.
Because I need to learn it all. What makes her come in each and every position imaginable. What makes her beg and scream and moan, what she does when it’s just her and someone she trusts.
When I’m that person she trusts.
Her fingers thread into my hair and her cries grow more desperate. “Tyler, please, ooh, you’re gonna make me—”
My gaze flicks upward to find her thrashing her head back on the pillow, her hand tugging one of her piercings.
Her flesh pulses against my tongue and I close my eyes, letting the new rush of her wash in.
I finish up with a long suck over her slit, reveling in one last taste.
I sit back, light-headed from the exertion and how much my cock is throbbing.
I run a hand over my beard and hold up my drenched hand.
“Not dry. Not even a little bit.”
Becca’s knees fall open while she laughs. “Guess we can’t have simple sex, then.”
I kneel over her and dip to kiss her, savoring her little hum when she tastes herself on me. “I don’t think we were really meant for simple.”
“Alright then, stud. Show me what you want.”
She’s still so pretty on her back, eyes glowing up at me. All these years, I’ve fantasized about bending her over like everybody else did, but now that I’m here, she’s not just the girl from the wild nights anymore.
She’s my Becca, someone I trust, someone who continually shows up for me. All I want, more than anything, is to see her and to let her see me.
I rub over the back of my head. “Is it wrong if I want missionary?”
She shakes her head. “Not wrong.”
I rub my lips together and take a moment to catalog her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes, her troublemaking smile. “I want to see you while I make you mine.”
Her eyes round and get a little sheen. “Ty.”
I bite my lip and cough a laugh, because the laugh is the only thing that can keep me from getting emotional right now.
This is all going better than I ever could have imagined.
Even if some earlier version of me wanted to bend her over in that cabin, this sacred connection feels a million times more gratifying than that could have.
“You got some of these famous condoms?”
She props up on an elbow and leans toward her nightstand. I tighten my jaw at the flash of jealousy that comes from thinking of anyone who’s been here before me.
I find Becca looking at me. “What’s wrong?”
I run a hand through my hair and shake my head. “Nothing. I just. I got jealous? Of people who aren’t even here?”
Becca sits up and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I feel that way sometimes too. But they don’t matter.”