25. Morgan
TWENTY-FIVE
Morgan
“Come here, then.” I hook my arm around the back of his neck and pull him down.
He falls forward and plants his hands beside my head, then kisses me, leading with his tongue. “I love you,” he says between kisses as he rides me slowly, savoring me, edging us both.
“I love you too,” I say, and frame his face with my hands to kiss him again.
Pleasure builds with each sway of his hips as he rides me with the fluidity of the ocean, drowning me in his sweet heat and sharp gasps.
“Thank you for coming back to me,” I whisper, my view of him blurring with tears.
“I thought I lost you.” I fight to regain composure, inhaling a shaking breath futilely because the next breath I take turns into a sob.
“I thought I’d never hold you, that you’d never kiss me, that you’d never tell me you loved me again, that you wouldn’t be able to. ”
He brushes my hair back from my brow and looks down with blue eyes, aggrieved and guilty. “I’m so sorry.”
“No more apologies.” I haul him closer and kiss him, then flip him onto his back beneath me without breaking our connection.
Scars shimmer on his skin, reminding me of how close I came to losing him. The only thing that soothes me is the rise and fall of his chest. I curl over him and press my cheek against his like I did when we danced on our wedding day.
“I’m here,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, stroking the back of my head. “You saved me.”
“You saved me too.” I cradle his face, watching him closely for any sign of pain, as I draw my hips back, and slide all the way forward, striking a match of pleasure between us that draws a long, guttural moan from his lungs.
I lose myself in him, tracking the flush that creeps up his chest to his cheeks the longer I bury myself in his tight heat. I race to the edge too quickly and pull out, stroking his cock lightly.
“Morgan,” he whines and reaches for me.
“I know, sweetheart. Sorry. Just a sec.” I rise onto my knees, snatch the bottle of lube, and drizzle it onto my cock, then feed more into his hole. I want to fuck him rough and deep until we both get off, and I don’t want to worry about hurting him.
Anticipating my next move, Cole hugs his knees to his chest. After more than a decade together, we’ve memorized each other’s bodies as much as the choreography.
I steer my cock toward his hole, holding my breath as I push my tip past his rim, transfixed by the erotic vision of his hole swallowing my cock as I slowly sink all the way in.
Cole practically levitates off the bed, back arching, tightening his lats and the muscles in his abs.
“So sexy.” I roam my palms over him as I pull back, then snap my hips forward, slamming into him.
“More,” he begs, flaring his knees wider, making room for me to curl over him, and kiss him as I thrust my way deeper.
I fuck him in earnest, telling him how perfect he is, how good he feels, how much I missed him, how much I needed him, how much I’ll always need him.
His face warps into anguish, not with pain, but the same overwhelming, agonizing ecstasy overtaking me.
I fuck him hard, drawing more scintillating moans from him that raise goosebumps on my skin, and overpower the roar of the ocean.
“You told me…” he says in a breathless rush.
“What, sweetheart?” I slow, only just.
“Can I? You said I have to ask first.”
I wade through the haze of my lust. “You want to come?”
Cole nods frantically, biting into his lip, eyes pleading as he trembles beneath me, intent on keeping the promise I demanded when I was angry.
I fold back over him, and kiss him as I adjust my angle to peg his prostate. “Come for your husband.”
His eyes flare wide, and he rakes his nails down my back like he’s scrambling for safety because he’s scared by the intensity. Bliss floods my bloodstream as his cum spills between us, and he milks my cock so tightly, he’d push me out if I wasn’t fucking my way back into him with equal fervency.
Then, with Cole's name on my lips, I join him, and come in waves and waves, fucking my way in deeper, even though there’s nowhere else I can go, and each time I think I’m done, the aftershocks of his climax milk fresh waves of cum from my balls.
All the while, our locked gazes never part as we stitch our souls back together in the striations of our irises, reclaiming everything we lost, and tying stronger knots that can’t be severed, lengths of rope that will never run out, until we’re forever entangled.