24. Sloane #2
“Why are you smiling?” I murmur. My whole body relaxes against him. If he’s smiling, then it can’t be that bad, right?
My husband’s grin only grows wider. “Because you’re talking to me. And for so long, I ached for your words.”
That —I shake my head. That can’t be true. “Really?” I ask, frowning up at him.
He nods. “There wasn’t a thing I didn’t miss about us while we were apart.
But that one, feeling like you’d completely frozen me out—deservedly so—broke me in a way I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from.
Trust me when I say I’m not smiling because I think your emotions are silly.
It’s the opposite, in fact. They’re completely valid.
This place is a dump.” His eyes warm as he studies my face.
“And I’m scared too. I’m scared that you’ll realize you’re better off without me.
That you’ll go back to New York and I’ll lose out on this chance to have my family back.
” His focus drifts to my stomach, and with a pained sigh, he closes his eyes.
“And I’m scared that something will happen to you and our baby.
I’m scared all the bloody time, Sloane. You are my world, and it guts me that I almost lost sight of that. ”
I swallow a nervous breath. For so long this is what I wanted. This right here: my husband opening up to me, holding me.
With another soft smile, he rubs his thumb against my cheek.
“Despite all that, I can’t help but be happy.
Because though I may not be able to fix everything, I have a better chance if you’re talking to me.
So please, I beg you, keep talking. Keep telling me what I can do to make you happy.
It’s all I want in this life. To be what you and T.J.
and this baby need.” He cups my stomach and rubs soothing circles.
I shift so my mouth is there for the taking, and Sully doesn’t hesitate to give me exactly what I need.
Maybe it is this simple. Maybe he’s right. We just try. Nothing in life is guaranteed, and planning for every potential situation is exhausting. But opening up to him, talking to him, and knowing it’s exactly what he wants from me? That is the opposite of exhausting. It’s liberating.
His tongue gently prods against my lips, and then his hand is on my jaw, holding me steady as he takes and takes, deepening the kiss.
“Oh god,” I murmur, dizzy with want for this man.
He tilts my head and presses open-mouthed kisses to my neck and my jaw and then my mouth again. “Tell me, wife. Tell me everything you want.”
I claw at his chest, unable to verbalize exactly what I’m craving. All I know is I want him. All of him.
Sully drags me over his body until I’m straddling him. Then he rolls his hips, ensuring that I feel every inch of his hard length between my thighs.
“Oh shit,” I rasp.
“Is that what you want?” he teases, a small smile on his lips.
“I want—” I mutter, delirious with need, grinding against him. “I want you to?—”
He thrusts upward, and the tip of his cock teases my clit.
“Yes, that,” I babble .
He lets out a dark chuckle. “I’ll need you to be more specific.”
My husband holds me still and stares up at me, waiting.
As much as I want him to take the lead, to make the decisions, his desire to know exactly what I want is utterly sexy.
His plea wasn’t solely related to being open about my concerns. He wants to know every little thought that runs through my head. That knowledge is beyond intoxicating. It’s empowering.
After years of feeling powerless, of feeling like nothing I could do would be enough to interest him, this is exactly what I needed to hear.
“I want you to undress me.”
The moment the words leave my lips, my husband’s eyes dance with delight. “Yeah?”
I nod, and he slips his fingers beneath my T-shirt. That tiny contact alone has me sucking in a breath. He fans his fingers out over my ribcage, his touch warm and strong, and pushes the fabric up slowly, only stopping when his thumbs brush the underside of my breasts.
Every inch of my skin is extra sensitive because of the pregnancy, but my breasts are on another level.
Just the hint of his warmth there has me preening, desperate for more.
Rather than giving me what I need, he pauses, his blueish-gray eyes watching me, waiting, the tips of his fingers hovering just a millimeter away.
“Touch me.” The words are a whimper as I roll my hips. Though my clit brushes the tip of his cock again, sending a bolt of electricity through me, it’s still not enough.
“I thought I was to undress you,” he murmurs quietly as he finally drags the shirt over my head. Without taking his eyes off me, he tosses it to the floor. Then he places his hands against my thighs, his expression full of mirth. “Is this where you want me to touch you?”
“My nipples, please,” I whine.
“See why it’s so important to use your words properly?” His chiding tone is sinfully sexy, making the warmth in my core go molten. He plucks one of my nipples and rolls it, pulling a long moan from me.
“Your tongue,” I beg.
“Where do you want my tongue?” he asks dryly, and god, does the sound of his voice set my blood heating.
“On my nipple.”
Sully grins wickedly. It’s such a beautiful sight. He sits up, wrapping an arm around me, and rolls his tongue over my nipple. Then he kisses across my chest and gives the opposite one the same treatment. He repeats this move, alternating between my breasts and making me crazy with want.
Tingles dance up my spine and through my extremities. “I think I could come from this alone.”
“Oh yeah?” He bites down on one peak, and I bow back, a loud moan escaping me.
Holy shit, maybe I really will come like this.
Especially with the way he’s gently rocking beneath me.
I’m not even sure he realizes he’s doing it.
He’s as turned on as I am, creating the most delicious friction while he licks and sucks.
“God, Sully,” I mumble. “You feel so good.”
He twirls his tongue around my nipple again and hums, the sound reverberating against my skin. “You’re fucking delicious, sweetheart. I love having you in my lap, moaning for me.”
“Take my panties off. I want to feel your cock.”
He pulls back and grins. “I’d love to.”
It takes a little—probably un-sexy—maneuvering, but after a few wiggles and grunts, the panties are gone, as are his boxers.
Finally, it’s just us in the dark, peaceful room, me on his lap again, his warm length hard between my thighs.
I crane forward and kiss my husband. It’s second nature, a move so familiar and easy.
Yet my heart rate ratchets up as I do, because this man drives me completely wild.
He always has. Letting go of my inhibitions like this with him again is the sweetest kind of relief.
“Now what do you want?” he asks, his eyes blazing with need, not only for my body but for my thoughts .
“I need you to fuck me.” The words come easily and without question. “I need you to remind me that I’m yours and you’re not going anywhere.”
He squeezes my thigh, his face softening. “You are mine, sweetheart. And I’ll only ever be yours. Now put me inside you, and don’t you dare take your eyes off us for one moment.”
I brace myself on my knees and do as he says, gripping him at his base and guiding him inside me.
And I don’t look away for even a moment as he reminds me of exactly who we are to one another.
As he brings me a peace I haven’t known in a very long time.
As we both shatter in ecstasy, again and again.