24. Cole
TWENTY-FOUR
Cole
“You said that was a stupid rule,” I say.
Morgan pushes me onto my back and straddles my lap. “I was wrong.” He kisses the wedding band tattoo on my hand, then links our fingers. “When we get home, I want a second wedding band tattoo—yours stacked on top of mine so they’re always together, even when we’re apart.”
“I want one too.” I kiss him, overwhelmed by the agony he suffered while he held my hand and waited for me to die.
He rests his forehead against mine. “I love you, my husband.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, still joined with his.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just…” I swallow. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you call me husband again.
” I hug him to my chest, basking in the warmth and weight of him, well worth the pain licking at my lower back.
“I never stopped being your husband. Even if we ended up divorcing, I would have remained your husband in spirit. I will always be your husband—until death, like you said.”
He rests his cheek on my chest and flattens his palm over my heart. “I promised you something similar that night.”
“In the gear room?”
“Yeah. I was worried you were in pain, but hanging on for me. I didn’t know if you could hear me.”
I shake my head. “I wish I could have.” I wish I had been willing to listen to him over the last year. He’s carried the burden of these memories with no one to share them with.
“I promised you I would send part of my soul with you, that we’d never truly be apart, and that you didn’t have to stay if you were in pain.” His voice breaks.
“I’m so sorry.” I stroke his hair and kiss the crown of his head to soothe us both. “You loved me so selflessly, while I’ve been nothing but selfish, hurting you over and over. I don’t know how you stand me.”
“Sunshine, I held you in my arms, fully believing you would die. I begged and bargained for another chance to spend the rest of my life with you.” He kisses me, tender and unhurried, retracing old paths, tasting the time we were apart.
“I know you didn’t want to hurt me or Finn, and I know you’ll make it right.
You lost so much when Seb died. You deserve forgiveness. ”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“I do.” He pushes onto his forearms and kisses me again.
I kiss him back, wordlessly apologizing, renewing the vows I broke, and adding more—I’ll never leave you again, never force you out of our home, never take your love for granted. I won’t hurt you anymore.
His hips undulate as he deepens the kiss. Seeking more friction, I angle my hips and haul him closer until our cocks collide and pleasure sparks down my length.
“Patience,” he murmurs into my neck, sandpaper stubble showering me with goosebumps. “I miss touching you.” He gently bites my neck, and licks. “Tasting you.”
I map the muscles in his back with my hands as he reclaims my mouth again, and rove my fingers through his wavy hair, so shiny and silken. When we part, I bury my nose in his hair and inhale the spicy bay rum in his conditioner.
“I miss playing with your hair,” I say.
“Mm. I missed that too.”
“It always soothed and calmed me, and made me jealous because my hair is boring.”
“It’s okay. You have other strengths.”
I laugh. “Fuck you.”
“Soon, but not until I’m done playing with you.”
He squeezes my pecs and rubs my nipples with his thumbs, then pinches them, drawing a hiss of pained pleasure from me.
Instead of shrinking away, I arch my back to present my pecs to him, submitting fully to his punishment as he pinches and tugs and twists, then sucks one nipple into his mouth.
His saliva rapidly evaporates in the cold air as he switches from one nipple to the other, nipping and sucking, fluttering his tongue against the tip.
“You’re torturing me.” I nudge his head away from my chest.
He relents with a soft laugh. “Sorry, not sorry.”
Lust transforms to loss as he kisses down the center of my chest, over my heart, and along each broken rib.
Tears splash on my skin as he kisses the long scar down my midsection, and the laparoscopic scars surgeons scattered at random.
By the time he reaches the scar wrapping around my bad hip, he’s weeping.
Is he lost inside the past again? “Hey. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner,” he whispers, hiding his face against my stomach. “I wish I could have spared you this pain.”
I stroke the back of his head, down to the hair at the base of his neck, then rub circles on his upper back. “You saved me, and I’m so grateful.” I angle his head back and cup his cheek. “Okay?”
He turns his head and kisses the center of my palm. “I almost gave up on us. I didn’t think I’d ever hold you again.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long. Ever since Seb died, I’ve been lost in a dark abyss. I finally found my way to the surface, but I couldn’t have done it without you.”
He smiles and we dissolve into sweet heat and friction again, languid kisses building into a storm of need as we shed the rest of our clothes, and slide our slick cocks against each other, relishing the long overdue sensation.
“I need you.” I want to knot our DNA together, anchor my heart to his so we never separate again.
“You poor thing,” he murmurs. “I’ve edged you for weeks, haven’t I?”
I bite my lip and nod, trying to rein in my fraying control before I combust.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
“No.” I curl up and reach for his cock. “I’m supposed to earn you. I’m supposed to beg.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. It was fucked up.”
“It turned me on.” Even though it broke my heart.
“Still.” He cups my cheek and strokes my jawline with his thumb.
“This starts here with us. You don’t owe me anything.
I want to go back to the beginning when we first fell in love.
” He pulls me onto my side facing him, and drifts his hand down my spine.
“I fantasized about you for years before I finally let myself touch you. Sometimes I still jerk off to those fantasies.”
“Fuck,” I whisper. “That’s so hot.”
He laughs sinfully, and trails his fingers down my crack, stopping at my tailbone to stoke the embers of my desperation. If he torments me much longer, muscle spasms and pain will ruin this. I inhale deeply and unclench my muscles.
“Do you remember the first time I made you come?” he asks.
How could I not? We were ‘refilling the oil’ in the engine room, our excuse for finding time to be alone. We hid around the corner at the end of the hall, out of view of the door. It was so loud down there we communicated through facial expressions, learning each other’s language.
“Hm?” He nips the bottom of my ear. “Stroking you through your jeans, swallowing your sweet gasps.” He cups my erection and squeezes. “Do you remember?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
He strokes my cock, slathering pre-cum down my length with each pass. Meanwhile, his other hand descends to my hole. He grazes it with his fingertips. My eyes slam shut. I want more, but he just sweeps his fingers back and forth at a maddeningly slow pace.
“Morgan,” I whine.
“You said my name just like that. I had to read your lips. You didn’t know what to ask for, but you trusted me to give you what you needed.”
He applies gentle pressure to my hole. Just pressure. Nothing more.
“You froze just like this when I reached my other hand down the back of your pants.” He rubs circles around my rim.
“I hadn’t played with my hole all that much back then.
I didn’t expect this sexy, muscular hole, flexing and relaxing as you got closer to coming, like it needed something to hold on to. ”
He applies a little more pressure, massaging the tight ring of muscle. I suck in a sharp inhale.
“You panted as I explored and experimented, your pleasure this precious mystery. I’ve never felt more powerful than when I watched you fall apart under my touch.
I’d never watched porn. It didn’t even occur to me.
I was so obsessed with you, I built these blurry fantasies, half of them inspired by Lawrence’s unsolicited sex stories.
” His hand pauses on my cock. “Never tell him that.”
I laugh. “But it would make him so happy.”
“Shut the hell up, Sunshine.” He starts stroking my cock again. “My imagination was woefully inadequate. I wanted to put my finger inside you. I was so curious. Would you be as hot inside as your flushed skin? How tight would you squeeze me?”
“Morgan,” I whine. “You said you wouldn’t tease me.”
“No. I said I would take care of you.”
I huff a growl through my teeth, fisting my fingers until my nails dig into my palms.
“I cataloged every detail, the short gasps, the way you clenched your fists so tightly your knuckles blanched, the way your body trembled, just like this.” He presses me onto my back and scoots down in bed, then kisses my Adonis belt.
The mere whisper of his breath ghosting against my cock threatens to send me over the edge. My hips rise off the bed of their own volition. He pins me back down with a hand on my hip.
“So impatient.” He shushes me and lowers his head, mouth hovering just above my cock, then swirls his tongue around my crown.
I moan long and loud, releasing my fists to bury my fingers in his hair.
“Mm,” he hums, thick lashes fanning against the apples of his cheeks as he savors me, dipping the tip of his tongue inside my slit. Then he swallows my length until my head lodges in his throat.
Bliss cascades down my cock. My eyes close. I force them back open, afraid he’ll disappear, that I’ll wake up alone. But he’s still there, aquamarine gaze on me.
My stomach somersaults, like we jumped on the deck as the boat crested a fifty-foot wave, and we're falling for so long, it feels like we’re flying. The ardor in his eyes tells me he feels like he’s flying too.