Kate
Planting a forearm on either side of my head, Jackson cages me in, places his forehead on mine, and lets out a shuddering breath. I reach overhead to catch his fingers with mine, squeezing them to let him know this is okay.
It’s nothing I haven’t experienced before, given the lack of experience he had when we first started dating.
We took our time, I taught him how to make me come, and in the sixteen years we’ve been together, there have been times when one or both of us come incredibly quickly…
and times when we don’t come at all. It’s par for the course. It’s marriage.
“I love you.” I squeeze our hands once more.
“Just…give me a minute,” he insists. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” I say softly. Hopefully reassuringly. “Do you know how sexy it is to know it felt so good you couldn’t make it last?”
“I wanted you so fucking bad it hurt, Kate.”
“Speaking of hurt.” I wiggle slightly to relieve some of the pressure of his hip bones grinding into mine. “Should we change position so you’re more comfortable while we wait? Maybe that Hawaiian Pretzel move or whatever it was you said was your favorite?”
A laugh blows from his nose. I’m happy to have relieved a bit of the stress and shame evident in his serious features. “No, definitely not a more comfortable choice for either of us.”
I nod, smiling up at his handsome face. “Should’ve guessed with the word pretzel in the name. I’m afraid the butter churner is out, too. My boobs would be all up in my face and I’d suffocate.”
Cupping my breasts, I push them upward to demonstrate that, with the help—or hindrance—of gravity, they’d be consuming my face. It’s not even that they’re that big. They’re decent. More than a handful. And they’ve also fed two human beings, so…yeah.
Jackson snorts, and a smile sweeps my face, turning into a giggle as I carefully try to put my boobs back into a place that looks sexy. It feels good—the laughing, the sex, the laughing during sex.
“You’re sexy as hell.” He does his best to be reassuring. “If anyone is suffocating in your tits tonight, it’s me.”
“Please, don’t. I just got you back.” I don’t mean for it to come out so heavy, but it does. And it presses against my throat with even more suffocating weight than my boobs. I blink away the prickle in my eyes and press a chaste kiss to his lips.
His forehead knocks against mine, and his hips inch forward just enough that I feel a distinct tightening in my core.
“Fuck, Kate. Do that and I’ll blow my load too fast again.” His pained moan hums under my skin.
For a long while we lie there, joined together, eyes locked, my heartbeat chasing the steady thump of his.
“Want to know something? We used to sleep like this.” I stroke his muscular arm. “With you…inside me.”
“We slept like this?” His hips move in one smooth, unbroken circle to hit every spot inside me.
“It started sometime after your mom died. We were running off our feet at the ranch just trying to keep everything going without your grandpa or dad around. We both fell asleep mid-sex, and it was so intimate. I loved it, so it became our thing.” I hook a leg around his waist, pressing our pelvises together and eliciting a gentle moan from my husband. “It’s been a long time, though.”
The threat of kids crawling into the bed at all hours of the night put a stop to things like that real fast.
“No way I’d get any sleep inside you.”
“The half-asleep sex in the middle of the night is part of the fun. Seeing how far you can push it before the other person wakes up.” I tilt my hips to draw him deeper.
He lifts a brow. “I like the sound of that.”
“It’s the best way to get woken up.”
Jackson slowly grinds his cock into me. “We’re doing exactly that tonight, Kit. I want to wake up feeling this tight pussy squeezing me.”
He’s definitely hard again—every inch pressing against my walls—and the extra lubrication from his cum has him slipping in and out with ease.
Inch by goddamn inch, he feeds his cock to me.
My need for him borders on desperation, and each leisurely thrust only heightens the tension crackling between us.
My hips roll of their own volition, and I breathe out an “Okay.”
“But first, I’m fucking my wife the way she deserves.”
“How’s that?”
He grips my thighs, cinching them tight around his waist. The lust-filled gaze and blown-out pupils of his, the delicious stretch, the languid stroke of him inside me—all of it coalesces into something I recognize yet can’t form words for right now.
He presses into me, folding to nudge my hair with his nose. “Like she’s loved.”
Love. That’s what it is.
The kiss that follows isn’t a loving peck.
It’s desperate, ravenous, as if he needs the oxygen from my lungs to keep him alive.
When we finally break apart, it’s with a frantic, gasping breath and hearts that beat in sync.
Time stretches on outside us, and with his eyes locked on mine, Jackson says so much without uttering a single word. He’s my husband again.
Every slow grind of his cock forces his cum out of me, leaking down my ass and pooling on the sheets.
He ruts into me, shoving his face into my neck.
His bristly beard rasps my skin, followed by hot gusts of shallow, soothing breath like a balm over the sensitive spot.
Curling my fingers, I drag my short nails down his back, then up to tangle in his damp hair.
I tilt my pelvis, taking him as deep as I possibly can, and he hisses against my skin. “Shit, Kate. You feel so good.”
Jackson lifts to his knees, dragging my hips to meet him with a firm grasp, bordering on painful.
He drives into me, and my vision blurs. The room’s filled with crackling fire and the sloppy, wet sounds of our bodies meeting over and over and over.
He fills me to the hilt, shoving my body across the sheets, then his bruising grip pulls me back to him, forcing his cock impossibly deep inside me.
I want him this way. So embedded in me, I never need to worry about losing him again.
The muscles in my butt and the backs of my thighs strain, and I feel blindly overhead for the brass rungs on the headboard to grab hold of.
I moan, loudly and often. When his thumb presses to my clit, a throbbing heat blooms in my clit, pussy…
all over, really. I’m not sure I know what’s what anymore. I’m a fucking goner.
“That’s it—fuck, my wife is going to look so gorgeous coming on my cock.”
The dirty talk tightens my core. He could make me come with his words alone.
But it’s the gravelly, undone way he calls me his wife that sends a rush of pleasure from head to toe.
His words do as much as the friction of his fervid thrusts.
An uneven hum wriggles free from my clenched jaw, and I twist in his lap, hand cramped around the bars of the headboard.
Sweat glistens on his forehead, his breath fast and broken. “That’s my girl. Keep squeezing my cock like that.”
As if I have any control over my body right now. My mind’s whirling like a runaway Ferris wheel, crashing into his hips and scratching at his taut arms. A sob rattles in my chest as pleasure overwhelms me, a flush of heat up through my belly and down my trembling legs.
A solitary tear trickles down past my temple.
I can feel it, but holding on to his arm and pressing the other hand to the headboard to ground myself in all the intense pressure takes priority over wiping it away.
With his eyes trained on my face, Jackson notices it too.
I can tell by the slight twist in his features.
“So good.” An explanation for the crying. It’s so overwhelming mentally, physically, emotionally, that this is the best my brain and mouth can agree on.
After securing my legs around his waist, he leans in close, and the pump of his hips slows.
The soft warmth of his tongue skims over my skin, wiping away the brackish tears, which have become a meandering rivulet since the initial one fell.
His cock pulses inside me, coiling more pleasure in the spot behind my belly button.
“Please,” I whimper.
Jackson softly cradles my cheek in his hard, callused hand. His shaken voice blowing hot against my mouth. “Again? I wish I’d known before just how fucking horny my wife is for my cock.”
He pushes forward, and I writhe under him.
Breathless and wanton, I ask, “Would you have touched me in the kitchen then?”
“In the kitchen, the day you trimmed my beard…” His thumb traces my Cupid’s bow. Voice low and rough. “Hell, I would’ve put this mouth to good use when you wouldn’t stop talking in the hospital.”
That knocks the wind from me. I glance away, cheeks growing hot.
Before the accident, Jackson always knew how to make me come—hard, fast, often—and he stuck with what he knew.
But now there’s a new hunger, a new desire to learn me, and this dirty talk is certainly new.
In a way, it feels like I’m fucking my husband while also fucking somebody new for the first time in over sixteen years, and it’s so hot it makes my head spin.
“Look at me, Kit.” Jackson tips my chin up with a hook of his finger. He’s still grinding against my pelvis in a way that’s so slow it’s excruciating. “I want to see the look in your eyes when we come together.”
He grabs hold of my hips, pulling me into him again, again, again, until we’re a pair of whimpering, moaning messes and our bellies and thighs are slick with our combined arousal. My body takes every inch, clenching desperately on the withdrawal as if trying to keep him inside.
His breathing falters, stomach clenching, and I can feel the throb of his cock inside me.
Firelight picks up the gold flecks in his dark eyes, and he pins me with a hungry stare.
He’s close. Knowing how easily this man is going to come for the second time tonight catapults me into an unrelenting, tumultuous wave of pleasure.
I’m tumbling through the surf, unable to catch my breath.
More intense than anything I’ve experienced.
The orgasm radiates out from my core, turning my entire body into a shaking mess. Even my nails lack the bite into his skin they had earlier—turning soft and sensual as they glide down his arm.
I wilt like the petals of a flower, coming down from the euphoria as the last few jagged pumps of his cock in my pussy send him hurtling forward with a choked gasp. And I swear to God, I hear him whisper that he loves me.
—
Flicking off the bathroom light, I saunter across the tiny luxury cabin, relishing the way he’s staring at me with heated interest.
Stark naked, save for a thin white sheet covering him from his navel down, he could be a male model. It’s incredibly rude of whatever higher power exists to make men finer as they age, while I’m slathering myself in toners, serums, essences, snail mucin, to prevent me from looking old for my age.
Jackson shakes his head with a lopsided, arrogant smile. “Your face looks like it’s still wet.”
“That’s the point. It’s hydrated and youthful.”
“Come get into bed, my glazed-donut wife,” he murmurs sleepily. “Can confirm you taste sweet like one, too.”
“No complaints?” I tease.
“Oh, God. Never.” He reaches behind his head to fluff up the pillows, then slings his arm across my empty side of the bed, waiting patiently for me to crawl in next to him. I tuck into the crook of his arm, slinging my leg across his, and breathe a sigh of relief.
“We should take more vacations.” Jackson’s chin rests on top of my head. “Did we take them before?”
With a yawny laugh, I answer, “We went to Calgary to see my parents a few times…took Odessa to the zoo there when she was a toddler. But you and I haven’t had too many opportunities to get away like this.”
“Well, we should. Maybe go to a beach, a big road trip, take the kids to Disneyland…all of it.” He’s so matter-of-fact. As if this decision isn’t affected by the difficulties of traveling with kids, or finances, or life in general.
I lift a brow, calling him out in silence because, as much as I doubt any of that will happen, I have to admit it’s nice to dream of it. My fingertips skitter across his bare chest. The hair there’s light brown, a gradual ombré into dark, coarse hair over his pubic bone.
“Denny reminded me a while back that I get a second shot at creating memories with you,” he says. “Trying to make it worthwhile.”
“It’s all worthwhile, Jackson. Most of my favorite memories were simple moments. Every year we go out on horseback to find a Christmas tree—even when the kids were babies, you’d put them in the wearable carrier and away we went.” I draw loopy interconnected hearts across his solid pec.
How different memories feel now that I’m not obsessed with needing him to remember.
What I truly needed was this—our bodies and hearts reconnecting.
There’s a softness to him now, a slowness, like he’s choosing me deliberately, one moment at a time.
I’ll remember the beginning of our story enough for the both of us, and we can focus on writing the rest together.
Between the comfort of the cozy fire and Jackson’s strong arms around me, my eyelids struggle to stay open. I yawn, eyes watering, and snuggle in closer to feel Jackson’s heavy heartbeat on the side of my face. It’s a low, lulling echo that has put our kids—and me—to sleep many times.
“Roll over, Kit.” His husky voice drags me from my half-asleep state.
“Huh?” I mumble.
“You wanted to sleep with me inside you, right? Roll onto your side.”
I blink up at him, eyes burning. I must’ve been more than half-asleep, because I missed him reaching to turn off his bedside lamp, and the room’s shrouded in darkness, save for the amber glow from the fireplace.
With a groan, I roll to my side and back my ass into his lap. His arm falls across my torso like a weighted blanket, and a few seconds later his hand’s sliding between my legs. Delicate, gentle touches tease until I feel myself becoming wet, prepped to take him.
His fingertips pressed into the meaty flesh of my thigh, I part my legs, sleepily humming at the feel of his smooth head pressed to my entrance. I faintly hear him spit in his hand, and a few seconds later he’s rocking into me.
The pillow captures my drowsy whimpering.
It’s been so long since we’ve slept this way, and for a moment, I wonder how I’ll ever fall asleep with the tempting intrusion rooted in me.
But Jackson cuddles up to my back, scoops my hair in his hand to pull it away from my neck, and lovingly kisses me there.
With his hand holding one of my breasts like a comfort item, he breathes heavy and slow over my skin. The dull thud of his heartbeat on my back soothes the lust zipping under my skin. And I fall asleep thinking about how madly in love with my husband I am.