Chapter 20 #2
I’m not going to make him struggle with his broken arm, so I fall forward on the bed, catching my weight on my forearms and reaching as far as I can to open the top drawer.
But anything inside is out of reach. I drag myself closer and peer inside.
Darting my eyes back to him, I ask, “You have a container to organize your condoms?”
He chuckles, still sitting up, but now his weight is on his left arm. “It’s a sugar pack holder, like at restaurants. I saw it and realized if you turn it the other way, it fits a condom wrapper perfectly.”
“I’m not even sure what to say to that.” I laugh. “I’ll never look at them the same way.” I grab the holder and set it on the top of the nightstand. “It only holds five.”
“You got big plans there, Sass?”
Laughing, I turn around. “Not anymore since you only have five.”
When I come closer again, he takes my chin and guides me like a missile straight to his lips. “Don’t worry,” he whispers and then pecks my lips. “I have more when we need them.”
I steal a kiss before snatching a packet and ripping it open.
I could watch him struggle to do it with one hand, but that only punishes me.
I want him now. When I flip back the blanket, my breath catches.
“Warner.” I don’t know why I say it like he’s in deep water when I’m the one who is clearly about to be in trouble.
“I’ll go slow.”
I shoot him a glare. “Let me guess. Don’t worry?” I ask, sarcastically. Trying not to worry about what I’m intentionally about to do to myself since there’s a major upside, I roll the protection over his length. I can’t stop thinking about his finger making me feel full. I’m definitely in trouble.
I stare at him a moment longer when my hand is taken. “Come here,” he whispers, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. I look up and then move closer, lying on my side with my head on the pillow to face him. “I can’t put weight on my arm yet, but we can take things slow. I’ll be gentle. I promise.”
I nod and move even closer to kiss him. One kiss leads to another, and then a shift in our bodies.
He doesn’t pull me on top of him, but I go willingly.
I’m intimidated by his size, but my body is already seeking relief as I rub myself against him.
“Oh,” I moan, the feeling so good even though we’ve barely started.
Straddling him, I lift myself. His hand rubs along my outer thigh before slipping between us to position himself at my entrance.
I’m slow like he advised, engulfing the tip before taking a breath and sliding all the way down.
I press my hands to his chest, concentrating on my breathing to get me through the initial burn and stretch.
I close my eyes and take another deep breath, and when I exhale, I whisper, “I need you to move, Warner.”
With his hand staking claim to my hip again, his body gyrates underneath mine and then pulls out just a bit to have me on the verge of begging before pushing back in.
“Oh my God, you feel so good,” comes off my tongue in a hurried exhale.
Using my hands on his chest as support, I finally lift and meet his next thrust, and each time it becomes easier, and no burn remains, only the incredible desire for more, more, more.
“I need you,” he says, his hand coming to caress my cheek before sliding to the side of my neck while still fucking me.
I won’t stop. I can’t. My hunger for more, for the bliss, and the push, the thrust, and the climax mingle together, the sensations becoming too much to hold on for long.
“God, I need you, too.” I do. I find myself stretching my back, embracing his length and taking him whole, owning his gaze, and aiming for his heart.
Leaning back, I let my breasts bounce as I release my hair from the knot on my head, allowing it to tumble down.
He makes me feel amazing, so beautiful that the lies we’ve told don’t mean anything in the long run.
Living in the here and now is all that matters.
I lift and fall, take and squeeze, embrace him, and then fuck him until he starts to fall apart.
I feel the effort in his body to fight the surge that will overwhelm him soon.
I can see the struggle in his eyes to hold on.
I rest my hands on his chest again, fixing my eyes on him and take him thrust for thrust, fuck for fuck, and giving it right back.
His arm swoops around me and brings me to the mattress.
With our bodies still attached, he angles his weight over me and drives into me with the full intention of pushing me to fall with him.
His eyes set on mine, every thrust is punctuated with possession—his arm around me, his lips on my neck, his cock staking claim to every inch of me.
“Fuck, I love you.” The words come out breathless as he drives into me, seeking his relief and dragging me under with him.
And then I’m falling with him . . .
Unraveling.
Spiraling toward that sensual perfection.
My body tremors for seconds, minutes, even a lifetime as I let the pleasure consume me. I return to this world, into his arms, and collapse on his chest with no energy remaining and no will to move. But when the fog of pleasure lifts, it’s the confession that consumes the aftermath.
Being with him has changed me more than I could have understood when creating this mess. This wasn’t cat and mouse, me setting a trap for him to fall into. This was us playing house. Lying here, listening to his heart beat strong in his chest out of pure indulgence, I realize I love being his wife.
I thought I was in trouble before. Oh God, what have I done? I might be too far gone to save myself.