Darling, Dove Preview #6
His hand found the dip in her waist to squeeze hard enough to ache when she pushed onto the toes of her heels to kiss him.
His mouth felt bruised against the force of hers seeking his, but he lived for it.
He barely brushed her cheek with a kiss in greeting earlier—their kids and her job putting their public displays of intimacy under scrutiny.
They were careful about what their children saw between them when it came to sex, but also, they served as an example in a professional, grown-up world.
They learned that unfortunate lesson after a passionate public kiss in her early Olympic days became the question of the hour every time someone from Team USA stood in front of a camera.
It never failed to amaze him how much ten to fifteen years could change about a person, and in their life. Sometimes, he missed the old them. Usually, he just loved how it still was.
Her tongue stroked along his just before his hand found her throat.
He had his wife turned with her back against his bare chest while his hands did wonderful work to a body she had chosen to love instead of hate with every child she gave him.
The silk shirt fell from her hand to the bed when his fingers tightened around her throat, and his other darted up her dress.
Hers found his cock, already painfully stiff and biting into his zipper, to squeeze far too hard.
He lost his breath.
Nico’s thumb had just slipped under her thong and inside her pussy at the same time the pain jolted through him from the way she grabbed him. “Shit,” he hissed.
“You called her beautiful,” Frankie breathed out.
The two fingers tangled into the gusset of her thong curled tighter against the fabric as he massaged the inside of her pussy with his thumb.
He pulled gently against her neck, giving him access to kiss, suck, and taste her skin from beneath her ear right down to the neckline of her dress.
Her grip on his dick didn’t loosen in the slightest.
“My mistake,” he murmured against her cheek, his gaze tracking her own that side-eyed him furiously. “It won’t happen again.”
Even if the compliment had softened the blow for Maria LaRocca, and his wife did ask.
When he slid his thumb out of her, having gotten her wet enough to do so and feeling her hips seeking more against him, he replaced it with two fingers.
Her hold on his cock fell away so she could dig into his arm and steady herself against him with the other when that fucking of his fingers accompanied a thumb into her clit and two fingers rubbing back and forth along her ass with every thrust.
“Jesus, Nico!”
That fast orgasm ripped through her shaking body and made the news he delivered next slightly easier to digest.
“Tony LaRocca’s son invited us to spend a couple of weeks with them next summer, and I couldn’t say no, just so you’re aware. Get used to the idea now, babe,” he informed in her ear while he used his whole hand to rub her soft, wet center back and forth through the remnants of her fading pleasure.
“No,” Frankie whined, then. “Why?”
Nico chuckled. “Sorry. It’s the respect of it all. I just—”
“I hate her already.”
That time, her whine had so much more jealousy behind it. He kissed her cheek again, and then she tilted her head into his after he pulled back. Their movements had shimmied her skirt higher on her hips, exposing the black garter holding up the stockings he’d enjoyed perusing so much earlier.
“You know I love these,” he mumbled against the curve of her throat while his hand between her thighs drifted, coated in her, skipping over the stockings. “Especially when you’re bent over the bottom of our bed.”
Which meant, she planned ahead and knew exactly what she wanted. So, he gave it to her.
Nico forgot about the teenagers outside, even though their music had become loud enough to reach their bedroom windows.
He forgot about the food he told Nicole to order, and the younger kids that would get dropped off within the next hour or so.
He forgot about the two sons he needed to wrangle in from far too similar circumstances for his liking.
No, none of those things mattered when he finally got his wife bent over the back of their bed with her dress hiked around her hips.
Ass up, thong pulled aside, and his aching dick pounding into her when her next orgasm tore through her with enough intensity to make her cry while he held her down against the bed... no, he didn’t care about anything.
Just her, them, and this.
He chased his own orgasm, knowing five minutes together until darkness fell would be all they could afford. Frankie’s pleased whine into the bed as her fingers curled into the sheets had a shiver clawing down his spine and dropping straight to his balls.
He waited for her to say it—pull out.
They’d stopped using condoms after Dami came along. Entirely. He let her make the call. It was between her and God when she’d had enough of his kids. Between him and the man upstairs, though? He loved each one. He’d love more.
He knew what it meant when she didn’t say the words that had become an integral part of their fucking over the years.
It made his orgasm better.