Chapter Twenty-One
Tank
I watch my wife as she steps out of the hotel bathroom wearing her cute little silk pajamas.
My wife.
“What are you looking at?” she asks with a shy smile.
“My beautiful wife,” I admit. “Come here, baby.”
She picks nervously at the front of her pajama top before slowly walking toward me.
The moment she reaches me, I pull her gently into my arms.
“I’m scared,” she admits quietly.
“Of what, baby?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“The next part,” she says, glancing toward the bed. “I don’t know what to do. I mean… I know what to do, but I don’t know what to do. Does that make sense?”
A chuckle tries to escape my throat, but I swallow it down. She isn’t trying to be cute.
She’s trying to be brave.
“We’ll take everything at your pace, babygirl,” I tell her softly. “Nothing happens tonight…or ever…that you’re not fully ready for.”
“Oh, I’m ready,” she says quickly, her cheeks heating. “I’m just nervous that I won’t be good enough to keep you happy.”
Silly woman.
I lift my hand and tilt her chin up so she’s forced to look at me.
“Abigail Davis,” I say gently, “you’ve had my entire heart for years.”
Her eyes soften.
“There isn’t a single thing you could do wrong tonight,” I continue. “Because it’s you.”
I brush a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“This isn’t about being good enough,” I tell her quietly. “It’s about being together.”
Her shoulders slowly relax.
“Besides,” I add with a small smile, “I’ve waited this long for you. Waiting a little longer wouldn’t bother me one bit.”
She studies my face for a long moment.
Then she steps closer, sliding her arms around my waist.
“I don’t want to wait,” she whispers.
My breath catches.
“You sure, baby?”
She nods against my chest.
“I trust you.”
Those three words hit harder than anything else she could’ve said.
I pull her closer, pressing a slow kiss to the top of her head.
“Then we go slow,” I murmur. “As slow as you need.”
Her fingers tighten in the back of my shirt.
“And Tank?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you’re my first.”
I close my eyes for a second, letting that sink in.
Then I lift her into my arms and carry her toward the bed.
“What do I do first?” she asks as I step back to simply admire her.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
“Kiss me,” I smile. “As a husband to a wife as beautiful as mine…I expect kisses multiple times a day.”
“Oh, is that so?” she laughs.
“Yes,” I grin as I unbutton my dress shirt and toss it aside. “That is most definitely so.”
I laugh when Abigail’s eyes widen.
“You’ve seen me shirtless plenty of times before, baby,” I chuckle.
“Not as my husband,” she smirks, heat flickering in her eyes.
“Does that make a difference?”
“You’re much hotter now,” she sighs. “Can I…uh…can I touch?”
Instead of answering, I crawl onto the bed until I’m hovering over her. I take one of her small hands and place it against my chest.
“You never have to ask,” I say quietly. “I crave your touch, wife. Anytime, anywhere.”
Her fingers press against my skin, hesitant at first…then a little more confident.
“What if you’re around other people?” she asks.
“Anytime.”
“In the war room?”
“Anywhere.”
She laughs softly.
“I’m not allowed in the war room,” she says. “Both you and my brother have this crazy rule about keeping your precious people away from all the dangerous and illegal stuff.”
“Yeah,” I sigh dramatically. “It’s insane that we have such a rule. What’s wrong with us?”
Abigail laughs again, and the sound does something warm and steady inside my chest.
I lean down and kiss her slowly.
“I love you, babygirl,” I murmur against her lips. “My beautiful wife.”
Her hands slide up my chest until they curl around my neck.
“I love you too,” she whispers.
For a moment, we just stay there.
Breathing together.
Feeling the quiet peace that comes with finally having the person you’ve loved for years right where they belong.
Then she looks up at me again, a nervous smile tugging at her lips.
“Okay,” she says softly. “What do we do next, husband?”
I brush my thumb across her cheek.
“You just lie there,” I tell her. “And let me worship this beautiful body.”
Not waiting for a response, I start doing exactly that.
I kiss along her cheek and down her jaw until I reach her neck. Slow kisses turn to gentle nibbles as I search for the spot that will drive her crazy.
When I find it, her whole body shivers beneath me.
There it is. The place where her neck meets her shoulder.
Being the caveman that I am, I kiss the spot softly, trace it with my tongue… then give it the smallest bite.
Her breath hitches, and my chest expands.
My baby likes a little bite.
Good to know.
Watching her carefully, I start unbuttoning her silk shirt while I soothe the spot on her shoulder with a slow kiss.
When the shirt opens, my hand drifts over her soft skin, her warm stomach, the gentle curve of her waist, the fullness of her chest.
I pause for a moment, just feeling her.
Deciding I need a taste, I lean down and press a kiss to the nearest nipple. Abigail gasps softly, her fingers tightening against my shoulders.
Every reaction she gives me feels like a victory.
But my focus isn’t on me. It’s completely and fully on her.
I refuse to bring up what happened to her before and risk putting that memory back in her head, but I also won’t do anything that could scare her.
So I watch her.
Every breath.
Every movement.
Every tiny reaction.
And damn if she isn’t responsive.
When I move lower and reach her stomach, she flinches, and I immediately stop.
Waiting.
She looks down at me and giggles.
“Tickles.”
Relief floods my chest.
“Is that so?” I murmur.
Before she can react, I brush my beard lightly across her stomach.
She squirms and kicks, laughing as she tries to twist away.
But I’m not letting her escape.
I grip her hips gently and hold her in place while I press playful kisses along the spot that makes her squirm the most.
Eventually, she settles again, breathless from laughing.
Slowly, I slide my hands to the edge of her pajama pants.
I pause and glance up at her.
She watches me nervously but doesn’t pull away.
Taking that as permission, I slide the fabric down and toss it aside.
For a moment, I want to sit back and take in the sight of my naked wife for the first time.
But I know that giving her too much time to think right now will only make her nervous again.
So instead, I keep moving.
Kissing down her hips.
Her thighs.
Her knees.
All the way to her ankles.
Even her tiny toes.
Which makes her laugh again.
Then I make my way back up slowly, my hands guiding her legs apart as I go.
When I finally reach the center of her warmth, I pause.
Just taking in the moment.
Taking in her pink pussy, neatly trimmed and weeping for me.
“Fuck,” I breathe quietly.
“What?” she asks immediately, pushing up on her elbows. “Did I do something wrong? Should I go…uh…fix it? Remove everything?”
There it is.
Those doubts.
I lift my head and meet her eyes.
“It’s perfect, baby,” I tell her gently.
“You’re perfect.”
“Oh,” she whispers, looking down at herself.
“I’m going to taste you now, Abigail,” I say. “Are you okay with that?”
“Oh,” she repeats, her face, shoulders, and chest heating beautifully. “Yeah.”
“Thank fuck,” I moan. “I’m starving.”
Without another thought, I dive in and feast like a dying man.
Her taste explodes in my mouth, and I’m instantly addicted. It doesn’t take long before her hips start pressing harder against my mouth, and I chuckle.
“Stay still,” I say, gripping her hips and pressing her firmly onto the bed.
“I’m trying,” she pants. “But that feels so freaking good.”
Releasing one of her hips, I slide a finger inside her dripping pussy.
That’s all it takes for my baby to explode.
“Not done with you,” I growl against her inner thigh.
Knowing she’ll be sensitive for a bit, I take my time nipping at her skin, avoiding her clit. When her hips start angling toward my face again, I chuckle and fucking attack.
This time, I slide in two fingers, angling them and massaging her from the inside, pulling her straight into a second orgasm.
“No more,” she cries, tears running down her temples.
But I’ve been paying attention. Those aren’t tears of pain or fear. It’s pure adrenaline.
“Not yet,” I say, kissing her hips, her belly, licking her cute-as-fuck belly button.
“My cock is massive, babygirl,” I admit. “I don’t want to hurt you. Now just lie there and let me play.”
“Can’t I play?” she asks, and I nearly explode right there.
“Not this first time, Abigail,” I growl. “When I have a bit more control, then you can play all you want. Fuck, the thought of your mouth around my cock is one I’ve jacked off to many times.”
“Really?” she asks as I make my way back between her legs.
“Yes,” I say. “One more, baby. Give me one more so I can finally make you mine.”
“I’m already yours, silly,” she says softly. “Also, maybe we should talk about something first.”
“What’s that, baby?” I ask, slowly licking the juices coating her pussy.
Fucking delicious.
“You didn’t bring condoms,” she says. “And I’m not on the pill. If we do this, I could get pregnant.”
I grunt as pre-come soaks my dick.
I close my eyes and image after image of Abigail, heavy with my child, floods my mind.
“I’m okay with that,” she whispers. “I know it’s not something we’ve ever talked about. But I’ve always wanted to be a mom. I want lots of kids.”
I’m trying to get my raging erection under control, and Abigail takes my silence as my answer.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “We don’t have to have kids, Tank. I’m sure this place has condoms. It’s the honeymoon suite, after all.”
I take a few more seconds to get myself under control before I move until I’m nose-to-nose with my wife.
“I can’t fucking handle the images in my head,” I admit. “You pregnant with my child almost made me come in my pants like a fucking teenager.”
“Oh,” she whispers. “So you’re okay with this? The possibility of us getting pregnant?”