21. Willow #2
I kiss him back just as desperately, pouring four months of loneliness and longing into it, every night I lay awake aching for him, every morning I pretended I didn’t care when he said good morning with that careful distance in his voice.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathes against my lips, pulling back just enough to speak. “Tell me this is another moment of weakness that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Shut up.”
“Tell me…”
“I said shut up.”
I kiss him again, harder, and feel him surrender. His hands slide down my back, pulling me closer, and I arch into him, feeling the evidence of exactly how much he’s been affected by this pressed against my belly.
“Bed,” I say against his mouth. “Now.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and searching. “Are you sure? Because if this is just, if tomorrow you’re going to tell me it was hormones again…”
“It was never hormones.” I hold his gaze, letting him see the truth in my eyes.
“It was never just hormones, and I was lying when I said it was, and I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I pushed you away when all I wanted was to pull you closer.
I’m sorry I made you sleep alone for four months when I spent every one of those nights wishing you were beside me. ”
The last of his restraint crumbles. I lock my arms around his neck, and he lifts me carefully against his chest. The movement brings my mouth level with his, so I kiss him again while he carries me out of the kitchen.
One of his hands supports my ass, the other spreads across my back, and every step upstairs rubs my body against the erection straining beneath his pants.
“You’re hard already,” I murmur.
“I’ve been hard since you said you were tired of sleeping alone.”
“That was thirty seconds ago.”
“I’ve been trying not to touch you for four fucking months, Willow. Thirty seconds was generous.”
The answer sends heat through me. I tighten my arms around him and suck his lower lip into my mouth, earning a rough sound that vibrates against my chest.
Corey reaches the master bedroom and pushes the door open with his shoulder.
Neither of us has slept in here since everything broke apart, but the room still looks like ours.
My side of the bed is untouched. His cufflinks remain in the dish on the dresser.
The framed photograph from our wedding is still turned toward the mattress.
He sets me down beside the bed without releasing me.
For a few seconds, we only look at each other.
Then I reach for his belt.
Corey catches both of my wrists in one hand. “Not yet.”
My pulse kicks harder. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve spent months telling me what I’m not allowed to do.” His voice drops while he raises my hands above my head. “Tonight you asked me into this room, so I’m going to take my time.”
“I didn’t ask for slow.”
“No, you asked me to take you to bed.” His mouth brushes mine without giving me the kiss I lean toward. “Use your words.”
“Fuck you.”
A brief smile touches his mouth. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
I try to pull my wrists free, but his grip tightens just enough to remind me how easily he can hold me. My body reacts before my pride does. Wetness gathers between my thighs, and Corey notices the change in my breathing immediately.
His gaze drops to my mouth. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to stop talking.”
“That isn’t what you want.”
“You’re very confident for a man who hasn’t been allowed to touch me in months.”
His free hand slides down my side and cups my ass through my pants. “You’re pressing against me.”
“That proves nothing.”
“It proves you’re still a terrible liar when you’re turned on.”
I bite his lip.
Corey groans, releases my wrists, and kisses me properly. His tongue pushes into my mouth while his hands move over my body, gripping my hips before climbing beneath my shirt. His palms are cool against my overheated skin, and I shiver when his thumbs brush the undersides of my breasts.
“Cold,” I complain against his lips.
“You used to warm them for me.”
“I used to do a lot of stupid things.”
His hands close around my breasts. “Do you want me to stop?”
My nipples tighten against his palms. “No.”
“Then stop pretending.”
He pulls my shirt upward, pausing only long enough to ease it over my head. The chain catches against the fabric before falling back into place, and the ring swings between my breasts.
Corey goes completely still.
His eyes fix on it.
The silence changes, but neither of us speaks. I feel every second of his attention while the ring rests against my skin, exposed and impossible to explain without saying far more than I’m ready to admit.
His thumb touches the metal once.
Then he lowers his head and presses his mouth to the ring.
The kiss continues against the skin beneath it, warm and slow, before he moves higher and closes his lips around my nipple.
My breath leaves in a rush.
Corey says nothing about the chain. Neither do I.
His hand cups my other breast while his tongue works over the first, circling before he sucks hard enough to make me grip his shoulders.
“Fuck.”
“Too much?” he asks against my skin.
“You know it isn’t.”
“I know you’re more sensitive now.”
“Then use that information.”
His teeth graze my nipple. “Still demanding.”
“You like me demanding.”
“I fucking love it.”
He switches breasts, taking his time while I work the buttons of his shirt open. My fingers shake with impatience, and Corey notices that too.
“Four months,” he murmurs.
“Don’t count.”
“I counted every day.”
The admission hits too close, so I push the shirt from his shoulders and flatten my hands against his chest. “Take off the rest.”
“Ask properly.”
I stare at him. “You’re serious?”
“Very.”
My fingers trace the waistband of his pants. “Please take off your clothes before I rip them off you.”
“Good girl.”
The praise sends a direct pulse between my legs.
“Don’t get used to that working.”
“It already worked.”
Corey strips quickly, and my gaze follows every inch he exposes. His body is leaner than it was four months ago, but he’s still broad, still strong, and still the man my body recognizes without permission.
His cock is thick and fully hard, the tip wet.
My fingers close around him before he can stop me.
“Willow.”
“What?” I stroke him once, watching his stomach tighten. “You said you wanted me to use my words. I’m also using my hand.”
His forehead drops to mine. “You’re going to make me come before I get you naked.”
“Then take my clothes off.”
Corey hooks his fingers into the waistband of my pants, but the urgency in his hands disappears when he reaches the curve of my belly. His eyes lift to mine, checking silently.
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Just help me.”
He eases the fabric over my hips and supports me while I step free. My underwear follows, and the moment I’m bare, his gaze moves over every part of me.
The attention should make me self-conscious. Instead, it makes me hotter.
Pregnancy has changed my body. My breasts are fuller, my stomach is round and heavy, and my thighs have softened. Corey looks at all of it without hesitation.
“You’re memorizing me,” I say.
“I haven’t been allowed to look.”
“You looked plenty.”
“Not like this.”
His hands settle on my hips. “Turn around.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Another order?”
“A request.”
“Those usually have a please attached.”
Corey kisses the corner of my mouth. “Please turn around and let me see my wife.”
The word catches in my chest, but I turn.
He stands behind me, close enough that his cock presses against my lower back. One palm spreads over the side of my belly while the other cups my breast, and his mouth moves along my shoulder.
“I thought about touching you every night,” he says.
My eyes close. “I heard you outside my door.”
“I know.”
“You never knocked.”
“You never asked me to.”
He catches my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and my hips push back against him. “I’m asking now.”
Corey’s hand leaves my breast and slips between my thighs. He parts me with his fingers, collecting the wetness before pressing firmly over my clit.
“Jesus,” I gasp.
“You’re soaked.”
“Four months, remember?”
“I remember every fucking day.”
His fingers move with precise pressure, rubbing me while his cock stays trapped between our bodies. I reach behind and close my hand around him, stroking him as he touches me.
Corey bites my shoulder. “Keep doing that and I won’t make it to the bed.”
“Maybe I don’t care.”
“You will.”
He pulls his hand away, and I turn to protest.
Corey drops to his knees.
The sight shuts me up.
His hands move carefully over my hips before he guides me to sit at the edge of the mattress. He arranges pillows behind my back, helps me lean into them, then pushes my knees apart.
“You comfortable?”
“I’ll be more comfortable when your mouth is on me.”
His eyes darken. “You know what I want to hear.”
I thread my fingers into his hair. “Please put your mouth on my pussy.”
“That’s better.”
His lips close around my clit.
My head falls back against the pillows. Corey sucks slowly at first, testing my sensitivity, then works his tongue over the swollen point with enough pressure to draw my thighs tight beside his head.
“Harder,” I demand.
He pulls back. “What was that?”
“Don’t start.”
“Say please.”
My fingers tighten in his hair. “Please lick me harder.”
“Good girl.”
His tongue returns with more force. One finger pushes inside me, followed by another after my body relaxes around the first. He curls them deep while his mouth works over my clit, and pleasure gathers so quickly that I can’t control the sounds leaving me.
Corey watches my face from between my thighs.
“You’re close already.”
“Pregnancy.”
“Still blaming hormones?”
“No.” I tighten the fist I have in his hair. “I’m blaming you.”
He sucks my clit and presses his fingers exactly where I need them.
My orgasm hits before I can warn him. I cry out his name, my thighs shaking while he keeps his mouth on me and strokes me through every pulse.
“Corey, fuck.”