Chapter 17 Alice #2
“Left on the light. Figured you liked what you saw,” he says, smirking at me. “I know I’m gonna like what I see.” He lifts his chin toward me. “Your turn. Get up.”
“Up?”
We’re both already in bed.
“I want the show, darlin’. I’ve been watching that ass bend, walk, and bounce all day. Now, get over there and show me what you got.”
I curl my lips together in an embarrassed pucker. “You’ve been watching me all day?”
“Since the gas station,” he says. “Now, get up. Go!”
He swats at me playfully, so I climb out of bed.
God, it has been such a long time since sex was fun. Since it was something I wanted, not just something I had to get through.
I almost don’t know what to do, but then I see the way he looks at me.
Morris leans back on the bed, completely naked. He’s unapologetically watching, waiting for me.
He wants me.
Me.
A man I’ve known for such a short time and yet whom I feel impossibly bound to.
I quirk a brow at him and vow to get out of my head. But then it hits me. I’m married.
“Morris,” I say, my confidence plummeting into my toes.
“Darlin’?” he asks. “I’ve got stamina, but I don’t know if I can take much more chatting.”
“I’m…married,” I say. “I—”
“Fuck that fucker,” Morris says dismissively. “Do you love him? Is he good to you? Is he the man whose bed you climb into every night? Whose name you scream when you touch yourself all alone?”
I shake my head in disgust. “None of that. It has never been like that. Not with him. Not with anyone,” I admit.
“You plan on filing for divorce?” he presses.
“First fucking chance I get.”
“That’s all I need to know. Now strip, baby. Please.”
Somehow, his reassurance and the hidden fantasy I’ve nurtured all day of Morris’s chin scraping along the contours of my body bring me more strength than I realized I had. I give him a saucy twirl, and he settles back against the headboard.
“I love it, baby. You’re so fucking gorgeous, Alice.”
I don’t exactly know where to start, but it’s not like I have much on to take off, so I start with what I think he wants.
I turn around and face the door, so my back is toward Morris.
I grab the hem of my tank top and slowly pull it up, lifting it over my waist and torso, and then slowly wriggle my shoulders until the tiny piece of material is over my head.
I twirl it like I imagine a stripper would, and Morris starts cracking up.
“Love the theatrics, baby,” he says. “Now, get to the main event.”
Still facing the bedroom door, I bend slightly and stick out my ass toward Morris, smiling to myself.
He growls in response, a hungry moan that rattles deep in his chest.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Your body, baby.”
I assume that’s a good thing, so I continue, not looking back at him and not saying a word for fear I’ll break the mood and scare away what little guts I’ve summoned.
I hook my fingers in the waistband of my sleep shorts and slowly work them down over my hips. I bend from the waist, so as I remove them, I’m slowly leaning forward and giving him a full, face-level view of my ass.
“Oh my fucking…” Morris’s words and breathing are thick, slow. His lids are heavy. “Alice,” he says worshipfully. “Come to me, baby.”
I turn and face him.
He has scrambled out of bed and stands naked with me beside the bed. He turns me to face the bed and holds my naked back to his front.
“You are exquisite,” he breathes against my hair. He reaches his hands around my middle and cups my breasts in his hands.
I drop my head back against his chest, my legs already weak from the perfect pressure of his callused hands on my skin.
He pinches my nipples lightly, tugging and twisting as I gasp in pleasure.
“Like that?”
“Love it,” I pant.
As he works my nipples between his fingertips, I sway on weak knees.
My core is lava, on fire with a liquid heat that rushes so quickly, the sensation stuns me.
I’m nothing anymore, no words, no resistance.
I’m not worried about the world outside or anything other than the delicious, torturous bliss flowing from his fingers through my nipples.
“Perfect,” Morris sighs. “Your body is perfection, baby. Your ass, your pussy.”
He moves his hands from my breasts, and in those seconds he’s gone, I miss him. I yearn for it. I want to reach out and claw at his hands, putting them back where they belong.
Me.
On me.
But I don’t have to wait long before those hands are exploring my ass, kneading my cheeks and spreading me wide.
“Morris,” I gasp, not certain what he’s going to do. But again, I should just trust him. He’s spread me open, and I feel the cool air from the room for just a second before the heat of his tongue flicks against my pussy.
I fall forward against the mattress, my feet still supporting my weight on the floor. Morris has dropped to his knees. His hands keep my ass spread wide while his tongue licks deep into my pussy.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he pants. “Alice. Can’t wait.”
As much as I want to explore all of him, every inch, every taste, right now, the longing I feel, the raw hunger, almost make me crazy, rabid. I’ve never felt like this before.
It’s as if a blindfold covers my eyes and all I see is a lust haze, and behind it, Morris’s hands, his tongue, his fingertips finding my clit and stroking it in firm circles until I’m close to exploding.
“Morris,” I warn, my legs trembling.
“Give it to me,” he demands. “Open.”
He spreads my ass cheeks wider with his hands and leaves all the work of my pleasure to his tongue.
I don’t know how he can reach my clit, but his tongue flicks and sucks me until I can’t hold back the scream in my throat.
I climax in volcanic shakes, my knees shuddering until I collapse facedown against the bed.
“You good, baby?” he asks, standing behind me.
I’m lying facedown like a reverse snow angel, speechless and weak. “I’m great,” I whisper, too exhausted to speak.
“Don’t have condoms here,” he mutters.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’m good, IUD. Clean.”
“Same,” he says. “Except the birth control part.”
I giggle, and before I can catch my breath, he’s behind me. I feel his hands on my waist and he tries to scoot me forward on the bed, but I tense immediately.
“Not facedown,” I say in a rush, cold starting to seep into my body. “I don’t wanna be facedown,” I say, and I struggle against his weight to flip over.
But I don’t have to struggle.
He releases my hips and grabs one of my hands.
“Even better,” he says. “I wanna watch your face while I fuck you until you come again.”
“I’m not going to—” But the words fade on my lips as Morris straddles my hips and eases his way inside.
He doesn’t thrust hard or fast, but he enters me slowly, inch by agonizing inch. I can hardly control the pleasure. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench the blankets in my fists, because he’s right. I am going to come again.
His deep thrusts hit just the right angle. He’s kneeling on the bed, and my knees are in his hands, my feet in the air, and I’m open, exposed.
This is raw, wanton.
It feels wild and untamed.
I’ve never felt anything like this before. But with Morris inside me, I’m not shy. I’m not insecure. I’m a greedy bitch, planting my hands on the insides of my thighs and opening my legs as wide as I can for him.
After a few slow thrusts, my body responds with a rhythm all its own. I work my hips and hold open my thighs, watching through my lashes as Morris closes his eyes, opens his mouth, and pants through his climax.
We collapse beside each other on the bed, sweaty and breathless. As the erotic haze starts to lift, I listen for the sounds in the house around us.
“I better clean up,” I say. I slip my pajamas back on and leave Morris faceup, eyes closed, dick still hard on the bed.
I use the hallway bathroom, relieved to hear undisturbed chatter from Lia and Zoey coming from downstairs.
I can hear Leo snoring through his closed bedroom door, so at least he wasn’t disturbed by our quiet coupling.
I clean up and dry myself off, and then I grab a fresh hand towel to bring back to Morris.
When I get back to the bedroom, he’s snoring lightly with an arm draped over his face. I smile at the sight and marvel at the fact that he’s dozed off, and yet his cock is still semi-hard
I climb into bed beside him. I tug on the covers and roll onto my side.
“Mmm,” he says. “Good, baby?”
It’s a sleepy question, but it’s also the answer. “Good, baby,” I echo.
Then Morris surprises me by lifting his head and planting a featherlight kiss on my lips.
That soft touch, loving and tender, promises more.
Promises more than just getting back up after a crash.
Morris’s kiss promises me that I am getting back up after the fall.
I’m earning the patch. And as I fall asleep in Morris’s arms, I have a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ve earned my broken wings.