24. nix
NIX
Her hands drop to my ass, and she presses our hips together more firmly, dragging a desperate groan from deep inside me.
There isn’t a breath of space between us, and only a fool wouldn’t read the signals Abbi’s giving me.
And I’m no fool. We’ve been together for decades, and I recognize Abbi’s silent request for something more.
Every nuance of her body tells me she’s seeking a more intimate connection.
She needs this. She wants to feel close.
She wants to feel. To get lost in sensations and drown out the world for a while.
Smother the pain. I need it too. As much as I don’t think I deserve to have her this way, I sense that if I were to dismiss her cues, it would be a perilous backward step for us.
And I don’t want to go backward.
I lift her easily, and she takes the cue to wrap her toned legs around my hips. She gasps when I press her against the tiled wall, using it for purchase. I kiss her deeply, willing her to feel my love for her, my desire.
As I grind against her, I tease my way with open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, making a path to her throat, where I suck on the pulse point there.
She drops her head back against the tile like an offering, so I scrape my teeth and beard along the tender flesh of her throat.
Triumph fills the cracks in my soul when she moans while her fingers grip the strands of my hair to hold me in place.
I’m not fucking going anywhere. Never again.
Kissing my way along her exposed collarbone, I dip my head further, seeking her plump breast. Pressing my hips into her to keep her in place, I cup one beauty and lick around her pert nipple. “You have the most spectacular tits.”
She uses her grip on my hair to direct my mouth back to her nipple. “Less talking, more kissing.”
I chuckle mildly at her demand. While Abbi isn’t the best at asking for what she wants in everyday life, she’s always been clear and vocal about what she likes in the bedroom.
And I’ve always loved that about her. I nod against her and return to my ministrations, flicking my tongue across the hardened bud before giving the same attention to her other breast. Her back arches, pushing her tits further into my hand and mouth; the action causing the perfect friction against my eager cock.
I groan against her tit, widening my stance for purchase as I grind against her pussy. Hot water beats down on my back as I kiss and lick everywhere I can reach before returning to Abbi’s mouth. Our breaths are hot, needy pants that echo off the tile.
I pull away from her mouth and, without words, study her intently as I take my cock in hand and rub the swollen head through her slick lips.
Teasing her. Teasing us both. Back and forth.
Her heat is intense and welcoming, drawing a bead of precum from me.
She mewls, and I groan at the feel of my steely length sliding through her slick heat.
It’s been so long.
“Nix,” she breathes in my ear before taking my earlobe between her teeth.
The rasp in her voice burns through my blood all the way to my dick, testing my patience.
Her thighs tighten around my hips, her fingers gripping my hair, one arm wrapped securely around my shoulders.
It’s like she wants to become part of me.
I fight back the rising tide of emotion clogging my throat and bury my face in the crook of her neck.
I lick her pulse and nip the tendon up the side of her throat.
She swallows and drops her head back against the wall again, tightening her hold on me.
Kissing my way down to her collarbone, I scrape my beard over the sensitive flesh, then suck on her silky skin, tasting soap and Abbi.
Always Abbi.
My wife, my love.
She tilts her head to the side, giving me unencumbered access, and moans, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls.
Steam surrounds us as I lick my way back up her neck and cover her mouth with mine.
As we kiss, our tongues tangling, I slowly push inside my wife.
She tries to push down, to hurry me along, but I want to take my time, so I hold her hips in place.
I dig my fingers into her soft flesh, restricting her movements as I change the angle of our kiss, deepening it, taking more, giving everything.
The floor is slippery, so I shore up my stance again to keep us both from falling.
I’m out of practice. Something that used to be commonplace for us now feels unfamiliar, and worry takes root that I’m being too ambitious doing this in the shower.
My muscles tremble, but Abbi holds me tighter, perhaps sensing my concern, and I let go of my worries.
I press my hips up another inch, relishing her warmth as it wraps around me.
The tightness of her pussy grips me like a silken fist, making it difficult to follow my plan to take it slow, when all I want to do is impale her on my cock.
Instead, I take a deep breath and push in another inch, then lean back in and fuse our lips together.
Abbi’s hand slides up the back of my neck, and her fingers slip into my short hair, pinching the strands between her fingers, sending electricity shooting down my spine and outward through my limbs.
Another inch, and I swallow her moans as she swallows my groan. The sounds muting against the backdrop of water splashing against skin and bouncing against tile.
One more inch and I’m almost completely buried inside my wife for the first time in too long.
Abbi tangles her tongue with mine in a lewd dance that forces my hand, and I snap my hips forward, joining us completely.
With nowhere to go, I press Abbi harder into the wall, and she tightens her legs around my hips, digging her heels into my ass.
Our kiss lingers, neither of us in a hurry to move things along.
Her familiar taste, the feel of her lips, and her body against mine ground me in a way I’d forgotten I needed.
Our connection is everything, lighting up every nerve ending in my body and awakening a part of me I’d thought lost forever.
Why in the hell did I let this slip away?
It’s another way I put distance between us.
I was so caught up in my agenda to ensure financial security that I forgot all about intimate security with my wife.
Physical touch has been almost non-existent, and I wonder how we’ve survived all these years without it when we used to touch all the time.
It wasn’t just the sex. It was small touches here and there.
Wrapping my arms around her from behind and dropping my chin on her shoulder.
It was holding hands with fingers entwined and pressing my lips to my wife’s neck for no reason at all. We lost it all.
Abbi grows impatient, using her thighs to push up, and I drag my hips back.
The slide of my length against her smooth, silky walls is incredible, and if I’m not careful, I’ll come too soon.
With our mouths fused, I push back in and begin a slow rhythm in and out of Abbi’s body.
Our breaths and hips sync easily as if we’ve been doing this every day of our lives, not in a state of abstinence for almost six years.
Her soft tits slide against my chest with each stroke, and we pull apart to watch each other with heavy-lidded gazes, our mouths touching with each thrust of my hips.
“You feel so fucking good,” I grunt between panting breaths. “You take me so well.”
Her fingers tighten their hold in my hair as her other hand wraps around my upper back, gripping my shoulder for purchase, her short nails digging into my flesh, pushing me closer to the edge.
I tighten my hold on her hips, grinding against her clit with each thrust, and she mewls like a kitten.
The sound goes straight to my balls, and I have to count backward to stop myself from coming too soon.
I don’t want this to end. I want to linger in this bubble with Abbi for as long as I can.
Shut out the world and love my wife. The way I always should have.
She deserves so much more than what I’ve been giving her.
Abbi’s breaths grow frantic, and the rocking of her hips grows more insistent.
“Nix,” she breathes as she squeezes her muscles around me, causing my control to slip. “I-I need—”
“I know what you need,” I breathe against her mouth and increase the force of my thrusts.
My hips snap sharply, and I give her everything I have.
My chest heaves with every breath from the exertion, my muscles burn, and I don’t think I can hold on much longer.
It’s been too long, and she feels so good wrapped around me.
“You need to get there, Abs. I’m almost done,” I grunt against her cheek.
Her pussy squeezes my cock impossibly tighter, the rhythmic pulsing of her muscles sending lightning shooting down my spine to my balls, and I lose the battle.
A long groan rumbles from deep inside as I push in one final time.
My cock throbs. I drop my head to Abbi’s shoulder, soaking up her sobbing moan as she squeezes me, draining me of every drop of cum.
I press up into her, ensuring I’m as deep as can be as we both find our release.
My heart pounds a wild rhythm, almost in time with the throbbing of my cock.
Our panting breaths echo off the tiled walls of the shower, and now that we’ve both climaxed, my awareness expands to our surroundings and the cooling water of the shower pounding down on us.
Abbi shivers, goosebumps rising across her body, so I reluctantly withdraw from her pussy.
I carry her out of the shower and wrap one of the large, fluffy towels around her body.
She looks perfectly wrecked. Her lips are swollen from our kisses, and her collarbones and neck are pink from my beard.
She’s so damn irresistible. I dip my head and kiss her again.
Our tongues slide together in a slow, seductive dance, and I engulf her in an embrace that I wish could fuse us together.
I’ve missed this.
I’ve missed her.
She pulls away and tucks her head beneath my chin with a satisfied sigh. My chest expands with a heavy breath full of frustration and disappointment. We could have had this all along if I’d gotten my head out of my ass sooner.
I don’t understand my own mindset—no wonder Harry spent half of our sessions looking at me like I was from another planet.
What the hell was I thinking? Did I really think money was more important than this?
The confirmation that I’ve made the wrong choices for years sits heavy in my gut, and I’m unsure if I deserve the second chance Abbi’s giving me.
“C’mon, let’s get you dry. Our food should be here soon and then we can get some sleep.”
She mumbles something incoherent against my chest but allows me to dry her body. I locate the complimentary robes and dress us both as there’s a knock at the door. Abbi gets comfortable on the bed, while I grab the food and bring it to her.
“I just ordered us a couple of burgers. I figured neither of us had a lot of energy to eat anything too complicated,” I tell her as I place the tray in front of her, then climb onto the bed next to her.
She shuffles her butt closer to me, ensuring we’re touching, and I realize even though I’ve been making the effort to repair the damage I’ve done, we’ve not felt close like this for some time.
I could drown in regret for the rest of my life, but that doesn’t really help anybody.
Instead, I busy myself by handing Abbi her food and shoving some fries in my mouth.
She smiles softly. “Thanks. I’m not sure I can eat anything.” I watch her as she picks at her burger, taking it apart and nibbling on the lettuce and pickles; her expression thoughtful. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”
While I’ve been dwelling on the physical intimacy we’ve lost over the years, reality has set back in for Abbi, and her mind has skipped back to where our focus should be right now.
My heart stutters, and I take a moment to gather my thoughts because I want to be honest with her, but I don’t want to break her heart more than it’s already broken.
I’ve seen men lose limbs, and I’ve seen them recover and go on to lead productive lives.
But I’ve also seen men with less severe injuries shut down, and while they physically recover from their wounds, they never fully recover emotionally and mentally.
The thing is that none of those men were my son.
Seeing Murphy lying in that bed with half of his leg missing and the bandages covering the rest of his body was one of the toughest things I’ve experienced.
I understand the need to protect stability in the Middle East, but sometimes the cost is too high.
Families are losing good men and women. Young men and women are coming home physically, mentally, and emotionally wounded—most from which they’ll never recover.
“He’s stable, and the doctors say he’ll adjust to his new reality.
” I swallow the lump in my throat, making it difficult to get the words out.
“We need to ensure he has the help he needs for his emotional and mental well-being as soon as possible. Even if he fights us on it. It’s important for his recovery. ”
She nods as she drags the tomato off her burger and places it to the side of her plate.
I break off a piece of the burger and feed her, ensuring she gets some form of protein into her body.
Her lips touch my fingers, warm and delicate.
I lean forward a little, flicking my eyes to hers, noting the sheen to them.
She’s close to tears again, and I don’t blame her.
As difficult as this is for me, I know it’s worse for her.
I press my lips to hers tenderly and murmur, “He’ll be okay. We’ll make sure he is.”
She attempts a shaky smile, but all it does is send the tears building in her eyes over her lids and down her cheeks.
Pain pierces my chest that she has to experience this again.
I wasn’t in as bad shape as Murphy, but she’s already lived through this experience with me.
I retired with the hope that she wouldn’t have to deal with this again.