Everett
NOW
My wife.
It feels surreal. Teeny’s shimmering platinum wedding band, cool and assuring, grazing over my day-old stubble as she runs her palm over my jaw. Even as she wraps her legs around me, letting her feet hook over the small of my back, her hands travel at a slow, delicious pace. They move with confidence, never stopping to hesitate or ask for permission. And it’s like a dream. One that I’ve been playing on repeat for twenty years. And now, it’s a reality. This is my real life. Teeny is my wife, and I get to touch her and kiss her and hold her and tell her I love her every single day.
My stomach dips when Teeny’s hand tucks into my unzipped pants, and I grunt a harsh groan into her mouth.
“Mrs. Hayes.”
“You know, I think I’m getting used to it.” I feel her smile against my cheek, and that instantly fades into a breathy moan when I slip her panties off and let them pool at her feet.
“See? That wasn’t so hard.”
My legs start to feel like Jell-O the instant Teeny’s fingers trace over my most sensitive areas, and suddenly, I feel like a ravenous animal. My own fingers do their own exploring, teasing and stroking her until all I’m left with is a squirmy, very impatient wife.
My pants start to lose their give and loosen around my hips. Teeny yelps when I swing her around and trudge back into the room, my pants hanging dangerously low around my thighs and slipping further and further down. I shouldn’t be surprised when they start to tangle at my ankles, making me stumble and fall onto our bed in a heap of mirth and giggles.
“Oh!” Teeny exclaims and giggles. “You okay?”
I nod.
“You sure? ’Cause it looks like you almost lost a foot there.”
I nod again, completely pushing away the fact that I almost suffered a minor injury. It seems the lengths I’d go to just to make love to this woman is getting pushed further and further with each passing day.
The concern mixed with the tiniest dollop of a taunt vanishes the second my kisses travel down her stomach and the bunched-up fabric at her hips. In no time at all, I’m tasting her, her moans filling the room like a symphony of sounds I could play for the rest of my life.
Urgent, desperate fingers rake through my hair, tugging at the roots at my scalp as the sharp jerks direct where she wants my mouth. How she wants me to lick and suck and bite.
“,” she gasps. “We can skip all that. Can you please just fuck me?”
My head pops up from between her thighs. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you, Mrs. Hayes.”
A grumble blends with a chuckle on her beautiful face, and she gives my hair one last tug. “Shut up and?—”
“Fuck you?”
She nods frantically. “ Yes .”
It seems I don’t move quickly enough for her because she starts to pull at my shirt collar, dragging me up her body until our noses bump.
“Hi.”
Teeny giggles. “Hi.” She claws at my shirt, undoing the buttons and yanking at the last ones until she’s finally gripping at the sleeves. I do the same, lifting the pretty floral blouse she’s wearing and exposing the choice negligee she’s wearing to display everything she’s hiding underneath her clothes.
“This new?” I ask.
A teasing eye roll and a hand shoved into my chest is my answer. It’s followed by her gripping me, giving a painfully seductive stroke. I respond with a groan muffled into the crook of her neck just as a jolt of pleasure ripples down my stomach and straight to my groin.
“Okay, okay,” I mutter.
“Why are you stalling?” she whines.
“Because it’s fun watching you beg for it.”
Anger flushes her cheeks, and with one quick swooping move, I’m on my back with Teeny straddling me. I watch her, mesmerized by the sated glaze of satisfaction in her eyes and her bottom lip clamped under her teeth as she guides me inside her.
“Hmm,” Teeny hums, a low rumble vibrating through her as her hair falls over her chest. I can’t take my eyes off the delicate lace details pressing against her swelling cleavage. How I can see the protruding outline of her nipples through the thin material cupping her breasts. Even the shadows of her ribs bulging and relaxing as she takes in heavy gulps of air.
I sit up, leaning back on the heel of one hand and tracing her neck with the other. “You’re so damn beautiful,” I whisper against her collarbone. I let my tongue glide across her skin before kissing her lips. “And you drive me so fucking crazy with your body.”
Her movement stills, the rocking motion of her hips coming to a stop as she smirks with a wicked grin. “Oh, now look who’s begging for it.”
I deliver a sharp smack to her ass, and she yelps. The surprise in her face dissolves as I thrust upward, and her head falls back between her shoulders. “Right there,” she gasps. Her fingers start to move between us, getting herself off while I do my part. “ Right there .”
I lean forward and yank at the cup of her bra, pulling at her nipple until it pebbles and grows rigid against the length of my tongue. I start to feel her body seize and tense.
“Oh god, ,” she whimpers, her voice sounding weak and restrained.
“Let it out, baby,” I urge. “I want to hear you get loud for me.”
“ ! ” I feel her come around me, the pulsing contractions of her orgasm gripping me so tight that I follow right behind her, taking pride as second place in this race for pleasure. I feel dizzy. High on this life that revolves around a dreamlike reality where I married Teeny.
“That was fast,” I comment.
A long, breathy sigh and a concurring nod is Teeny’s response. “I’ve been waiting since we left San Diego for this.”
“And you’ve been so patient,” I tease. I feel Teeny’s body shake, and an amused laughter fills the air. “What?” I ask, resting my chin on the hard part of her sternum.
“Just…” She rests her palm on her forehead, eyes pointed to the ceiling as if she’s looking for the right words. “I can’t believe we’re married.”
“I know.”
“If I could go back in time and tell my sixteen-year-old self that you’re my husband, I’d throw a fresh Coke float in my face.”
“We’re really married, aren’t we?” I mumble against her soft skin. She wraps her arms around me, cupping the back of my head and cradling me against her.
“Yeah,” she whispers into my hair. “We really are.”
* * *
Hours later, once we’ve satiated enough of our “appetite” to get dressed and leave our hotel room, we’re walking hand in hand down the streets of Paris. It isn’t too crowded. A lot of the narrow pathways consist of small stores rather than the larger chain ones with more foot traffic. We mosey our way into a quaint café after Teeny’s adorable plea for an authentic French croissant.
“ Bonjour. Je prend deux croissants ,” she tells the cashier. “ Et un café crème, s’il vous pla?t. ” She manages to get the words out with such fluidity, my chest beams with pride.
“Thank goodness I didn’t have to brush up on my French before our honeymoon,” I say low to Teeny’s ear as we veer away to a small round table and two cushioned chairs.
“What French?” she asks, skepticism holding back a bemused laugh.
“I learned some stuff in high school.”
“Oh, you mean how you could barely say, ‘My name is ?’”
The tips of our elbows meet at the middle of the table like lovers exchanging a sweet Eskimo kiss. I reach down and give her knee a soft squeeze to which she jerks away with a delighted giggle.
“You never did miss a chance to make fun of my French, did you?”
“It’s just so easy,” she croons, leaning forward for a kiss.
“Well, maybe you can help me while we’re here,” I suggest, pecking the corner of her mouth.
“Again? But you’re such a lost cause!”
“Yeah, but maybe I can throw in some incentives,” I tease. “Teach me how to order a croissant, and I’ll buy you a puppy as soon as we get back home.”
“Keep talking.” Teeny tilts her head down as my kisses travel to her ear.
“Teach me how to say that ‘Pur-lay voo?—’”
“ Parlez-vous,” she corrects.
“See? I need you, baby.”
She giggles. “It’s okay. Just stand there and look pretty. I’ll do all the talking.”
I cup my hand to her face and stroke her cheek. “I love you so damn much, Christine.”
Her nose scrunches through her smile. “So formal.”
“But I do.”
“I know.” She places a gentle kiss into my palm. “I love you too, .”