53. Anderson
53
ANDERSON
I pant over June, “Is it possible to fetishize your own wife?”
She laughs which makes her inner walls squeeze on me, pushing me out. Odd feeling. I roll off of her, trying to catch my breath as she says, “I don’t know. What makes you ask?”
“I’m not sure if I’ll ever get enough of you.”
“Give it time. We’ll be old marrieds, tired of the way the other one breathes or chews one day.”
“Nah. Not buying it.” I clutch onto her thigh, enjoying the way she startles when I do it. “You could be covered in liver spots and cellulite, and I’d still want to bend you over the back of the couch.”
She belly laughs. “I can’t tell if that’s the worst pillow talk or the best.”
I grin at her, happy to see her relaxed again. After running into my folks, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her like that tonight. “Shower?”
“Ooh, yes, please.”
I get the water scalding hot on her side, medium for me, then return to the bedroom. “Your fiery shower is ready, madam.”
She snickers, rolling her eyes. It’s the cutest when she does that because her nose crinkles and she looks almost innocent. Once in the shower, though, there is nothing innocent about June. She is the sexiest naked, wet woman who ever lived. “Why are you just standing there? I thought we were getting clean?”
“I’m distracted by the hotness that is my wife.” Fuck, just saying, “my wife,” is enough to give me a semi.
She giggles and turns to me. “I know what you mean, husband.”
When she puts her hands on my chest, it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. There is nothing else in existence. Just her. She traces the outlines of my muscles, and that featherlight sensation makes my balls throb for her. My cock stands at attention, still aching from what we’d just done. But I don’t care. I want her again. I reach for her, but she intercepts my hand and kisses my palm. The look in her eyes is enough to drive me crazy. “What?”
“I want to know what my husband tastes like.”
I move forward to kiss her, but she drops to her knees. She braces herself with one hand on my lower abdomen, but with her free hand, she cups my balls as if weighing them and testing them. The best kind of massage. Tension builds deep inside of me, vibrating my spine with every touch. She then runs her lips loosely over my shaft. That sensation is an odd tease, not enough to get me anywhere good, but all the more delicious for drawing this out. When she gets to the tip, though, the teasing ends.
June’s tongue cradles the head of my cock before she swallows me down. Suction is too delicate of a word to describe what that woman does to me. She’s trying to remove my soul through my dick. It’s as if her mouth has become the place my cock longs to be. Her excitement for the act enthralls me. The tip of her tongue traces every vein and curve while her hot mouth takes me deeper and deeper until I meet the resistance of her throat.
And then, deeper still.
I have to lean on the steaming tile. “Fuck,” I murmur. There is no other word. Not to describe how I feel. She’s too good, too skilled. How can she do this to me? How can she make me feel this way? It’s beyond wanted or lusted for. We loved each other yesterday, but today, she told the world I belong to her.
Right now, she’s proving it.
I can’t stop from rolling myself into her mouth, and she weathers every inch of me, purring as if this is the best thing ever. She does this thing with her tongue that defies physics, and when she does it, I teeter on the brink of madness. But it’s not only that she’s giving me the blow job of a lifetime. It’s that even now, buried in her face, I cannot wrap my head around the fact that June Devlin married me. If I died at this moment, I could die happy.
But I want more. I pull out of her mouth, and her eyes go wide. “Did I bite or?—"
I grab her shoulders and help her to her feet. “You were perfect. But I need to be inside of you.”
She smiles slyly. “Oh.”
I turn her around and pull her hips back as she braces on the wall. Fuck, her ass at this angle is begging for it. But I reach under her for her wet pussy, and sure enough, she is more than ready for me. When I finger her there, she whimpers softly. I lean onto her back, kissing and biting her shoulder. “Need more, love?”
“Please,” she begs so prettily.
I slide my fingers from her and push my cock into her until I’m fully seated against her body. There is nothing like it in the world. Penetrating June is the only thing I ever want to do. Our bodies were made for each other. Wet slaps echo on hot shower tiles as we collide together over and over. But I want more pleasure for her. I murmur in her ear, “Touch yourself while I’m inside of you.”
She leans on her left forearm as her right hand vanishes in front of her. Her whimpers echo on every hard surface of the room. I bury myself deep and reach around to cover her hand with mine, stopping her hand. “What are you?…”
“Not like this.” I scoop her legs out from under her as she squeals and carry her out to the bathroom countertop.
“You’re going to drop me!”
“You think I’d let you fall?” There, I bend her over the countertop and take her hands to brace them on the mirror as I slide deep into her again. “This way, I get to watch you come while I’m behind you.”
Her lips part in a pretty gasp, and I play with her clit while I drive into her. Slower this time. More deliberate. Staring into her eyes while I do this is enough to make me come, but I need her to come first. Nothing else matters.
June rocks herself back to meet my thrusts and wriggles against my hand at the same time. She yearns for it, and her whines send me even closer to my own climax than I care to admit. One day, we might play orgasm denial games, but not today.
Today, I need to make my wife come on my cock.
I slightly twist my hips to find her spot again, and when I feel the rough texture of it and hear her gasp, I know I’m there. She slaps the mirror, looking for some way to get the tension out. But it’s her words that get me. Her voice is high-pitched when she squeaks, “So … close!”
I am determined to hold back, but the moment she comes, her body milks me, and I’m done. Every bit of pleasure shoots through me, and I come, bellowing as loud as she is. Bliss is too gentle a word for this.
Euphoria. Heaven. Something the poets haven’t imagined yet.
Panting, I press my forehead to her slick shoulder. Her hair is still wet from the shower. I kiss her there and murmur, “Think we were supposed to get cleaner. Not this.”
She giggles. “Shower, round two?”
“Yeah. We can try that.” But the three steps to the shower are perilous on weak knees. We both make it, but it’s a challenge. June’s curly hair is long and straight in the shower, and she looks so different that way. I smile at her, and she gives me a funny look. “What?”
She smiles. “Why are you staring?”
“Sorry, I—no. I’m not sorry. I love staring at you.”
Her cheeks go pink, and it’s utterly precious. “Why are you doing it?”
“I love your hair curly, but it looks good this way, too. Perfect if you ever want a disguise because I swear you look like a whole other person with it straight.”
“I used to straighten it, actually.”
“Really? I don’t remember that.”
“It was right after college when we didn’t see each other. With my hair doing whatever it feels like, I thought it was more professional to have it straightened.”
The concept makes me frown. “How is that more professional?”
“Because when I straighten it, it’s neat and polished looking instead of curly and wild.”
“Ah.”
She nods. “But after a year at my old firm, I got tired of my hair breaking from the blowouts and gave up.”
I kiss her forehead and pull her close. “I know it’s not up to me. I want you to look however you want to look. But if my input counts for anything, in your quest for beauty, please don’t do things that damage you.”
She snickers. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I wash her hair, taking my time with it. June is half asleep by the time I finish, and afterward, I dry her off before myself. When I am almost done, she yawns and asks, “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of my wife.”
“Why does hearing my wife turn me on?”
“Probably because it turns me on to say it.” I finish drying myself off and take her hand to lead her back to the bed. Once there, I wrap my arm over my little spoon and bury my face in her damp hair.
“I should dry my hair or?—"
“No. I want you just like this.”
Her sleepy voice makes me swoon. “But the pillows?—"
“They’ll be fine, baby. It’s time to sleep.”
She smacks her lips after another yawn. “Okay.” When her breathing evens out, and her body goes limp, I can finally relax. Just as I doze off, she whispers, “I love you more than anything, Anderson West.”
“I love you, too, June Devlin-West.”
She quietly giggles. “I’m not changing my name.”
“We’ll see.”
“So bossy.”
I chuckle. “You like me bossy.”
“We’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“You started it.”
June laughs and rolls onto her back. “Well, it seems as though my husband’s body isn’t ready for sleeping.”
“Hmm?”
She grabs my half-hard cock in the dark. I hadn’t even realized it, but being sandwiched against her ass is enough to wake the dead. She sweetly says, “Guess I’ll have to do something about that.”
“If you must.”
She giggles as she slides underneath the blankets.