Chapter 20 My Name, Our Home #5
"I'll need you to let go first." He eases the fabric from my fingers with exaggerated care, shuts the door, and comes straight back into my space. "Impatient?"
"Anticipatory." I sit on the edge of the daybed and draw him down beside me, knees knocking, smiling against his jaw. "That sounds better."
"Anticipatory." He brushes my hair back from my mouth and kisses me again, playful then filthy, tongue stroking mine until I forget how to tease. "This is becoming a very thorough inspection."
"I have high standards." I fist the front of his shirt and pull him closer. "Are you going to keep talking, or are you going to do something about all this anticipation?"
He answers by kissing me until the complaint dissolves.
Outside, leaves brush the roof. His mouth travels my jaw, my throat, the open collar of my shirt. He peels the fabric up slowly, watching my face, then my bra, and when I'm bare to the waist he goes still for a heartbeat.
His hands frame my ribs. Then he bends and kisses the faint silver lines low on my belly, one by one, open-mouthed and reverent. Stretch marks from carrying Lucia. Soft skin that didn't used to be there. He doesn't rush past them. He lingers.
"These," he murmurs against me. "Fuck, Sera. Look what you did. Grew our girl. Still the most beautiful thing I've ever put my mouth on."
He kisses another line, then lower, then the underside of my breast, then takes my nipple into his mouth with a groan like he's been waiting through every umbrella debate for this.
I fist his hair, eyes stinging for no useful reason. "Rafael…"
"I've got you." Soft filth and devotion tangled. He switches sides, sucking until I whine. "I can’t ever get enough of you… My wife. Soft here." His palm spans my stomach again. "Strong here. Mine."
"Lie back," he says, dominant under the teasing. "Legs open. I want to taste you before I fuck you."
I obey, pulse loud in my ears. He kneels on the floorboards between my thighs, drags my trousers and underwear down with maddening patience, and looks at me like the platform view has competition.
Then he licks into me slow, thorough, filthy, holding my hips when I try to twist away from the intensity. His tongue works my clit in firm strokes; two fingers sink inside and curl until my back arches off the cushions.
"That's it. Good. Whine for me." Praise muffled against my cunt. "Nobody here but us. Come on my tongue, give it to me. Let me have this afternoon."
I clap a hand over my mouth and still moan when I shatter, shaking on the edge of the daybed, thighs clamped around his ears.
Rafael doesn't stop until I'm twitching and tugging his hair. Then he kisses my inner thigh, my stretch-marked belly again, and stands to shed his clothes. His cock is hard, flushed, wet at the tip. I reach for him without thinking.
"On top," he says, sitting back against the cushions, guiding me to straddle his lap. Hands on my waist, thumbs stroking those silver lines like a reminder. "Want your eyes. Want you to take me. Slow."
I sink down onto him inch by inch, forehead to his, both of us swearing softly when he fills me deep. The stretch is thick and perfect as the daybed creaks. We freeze, then laugh under our breath like teenagers who still share a secret treehouse, then I start to move.
"That's my girl." His voice breaks on the praise. He thrusts up to meet every roll of my hips. "Riding me in here like we still know how to sneak away. Fuck... So tight. So wet from my mouth. Perfect. Look at you… taking every inch, soft belly, those marks I love…"
He cups my breast and sucks the nipple while I fuck myself on his cock, pace turning greedy. "Beautiful. Mine. Don't stop."
"Rafael! Ah, right there… don't stop…"
"Not stopping." He snaps his hips harder, one hand sliding between us to rub my clit in tight circles. "Come on my cock. Now. Let me feel you break for me."
I do, clenching hard, kissing him messy through it, a raw sound swallowed by his mouth. He holds me while I shake, murmuring praise into my hair, then eases me off only long enough to turn me toward the window.
"Hands on the sill," he murmurs against my ear, warm and filthy. "On our carving. I want you looking at us while I take you."
I kneel on the daybed facing the light, palms braced on the wooden sill beside the crooked S + R heart. Cool wood under my fingers. His heat at my back.
He covers me from behind, kisses my shoulder, my spine, then the side of my waist where the marks fade, and sinks into me deep in one smooth thrust. I shove back with a broken sound that feels like relief.
"Breathtaking." His grip on my hips, mouth open on my neck. "My wife bent over our initials, dripping down my cock. Still so tight around me. Taking me so fucking well. Say my name."
"Rafael… " It cracks into a moan as he fucks me steady, then harder, one hand rubbing my clit, the other covering mine on the sill so we're both holding the carving. "Fuck, please… I'm…"
"I've got you. Come for me again."
I shatter shoving back onto him, shaking, and he follows with a groan of my name, burying deep as he spills into me in long pulses, chest pressed to my spine, hand locked over mine on the S + R like a vow we already kept.
We stay like that until our breathing slows. He kisses the back of my neck, then reaches around to press one more slow kiss to my belly, soft after all that heat.
When he eases us down onto the daybed, he tugs the throw over bare skin and pulls me onto his chest. His heartbeat is loud under my ear.
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, dipping now and then to those silver lines like he can't help cataloguing what we survived to get here.
The patch of sunlight on the floor has already moved closer to the door.
"We should go back." I don't move. "Your mother will think we've abandoned them."
"My mother raised me." His hand continues its slow movement. "She knows exactly what we're doing."
"That's worse." I lift my head to look at him. "That's so much worse."
"She offered us three hours." He sits up and pulls on his shirt. "I think she was fairly clear."
"I intend to accept her offer again." I find my jacket beside the daybed and shake it out. "Preferably after a full night's sleep."
"We're sleeping through some of it." He catches my hands and holds them against his chest. "That's progress."
"That's exhaustion." But I'm smiling, leaning into him. "I love you. Even when you make inappropriate jokes about my sleep deprivation."
"I love you too." He catches the jacket before I can put it on inside out and turns it for me. "Even when you're so tired you put the coffee in the refrigerator."
"That was once." I pull back and swat his arm. "And it was four in the morning."
"It was hilarious." He dodges my second swat and heads for the door. "I thought about waking you up to tell you, but you looked so peaceful."
"I was unconscious." I follow him out onto the platform. "And planning to stay that way."
We climb down the stairs together, the late afternoon air warm against my skin. The walk back to the car is quiet, comfortable, the kind of silence that comes from knowing someone so well you don't always need words.
"Next week?" I take his hand as we reach the clearing. "I'm free next week."
"Then so am I." He opens my door and waits while I get in. "I'll ask my parents if they'd like another afternoon with her."
"That's what grandparents are for." I settle into my seat. "According to my mother, anyway."
The drive back is short, the familiar roads unreeling in the golden light. When we pull into the drive, I can see Beatrice through the terrace doors, still holding Lucia, deep in conversation with Corrado.
"She looks happy." I watch them through the windshield. "Your mother, I mean. With Lucia."
"She's in her element." Rafael turns off the engine. "Giving orders, organizing people, making sure everyone is properly fed and clothed. A baby just gives her a new project."
"Lucia is not a project." But I'm smiling as I get out of the car. "She's a person."
"Tell that to my mother." He takes my hand as we walk toward the house. "She's been making lists since before Lucia was born."
We find them still comfortably installed on the terrace. My parents have shifted to the chairs near the door, my father dozing slightly, my mother pretending not to notice. Beatrice is still swaying with Lucia, and Corrado is watching them both with an expression of profound contentment.
"She was an angel." Beatrice turns to show me Lucia's sleeping face. "Not a single complaint."
"She was probably plotting something." I reach for my daughter, and Beatrice transfers her carefully into my arms. "She saves her complaints for me."
"That's because she knows you'll do something about them." Beatrice smooths Lucia's hair one more time before stepping back. "She's very intelligent."
"She certainly knows how to get my attention." I settle Lucia against my shoulder, feeling her search sleepily for a comfortable position.
"She knows who loves her." Beatrice fixes me with a look. "That's the most important thing."
"Could we take her back with us?" I turn toward Rafael, lowering my voice as Lucia nuzzles my collar. "To the treehouse. There's still time before sunset."
"I'd like that." He brushes a fold of my collar away from her face. "I'll get her bag while you feed her."