by Jodi Watters
“So fucking beautiful,” he mumbled, moving to her other breast.
The throb increased, and she reached between them, gripping a solid erection that guaranteed satisfaction.
“I wanna taste you so bad, but if I do, I’ll lose it before I can get inside you.” Sweeping two fingers through her wetness, he lifted them to his mouth. “This’ll have to get me by.”
For the second time that day, Olivia watched him feast on her juices, and she nearly came spontaneously.
Lifting her hips into his, she whimpered. “Now, Ash. Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He complied, his steely hardness poised at her entrance, but he stopped short at the last millisecond.
Cupping her face, he smoothed back strands of soft blonde hair, then swallowed hard. “I’m so lucky to have you, Liv. The luckiest man alive. I won’t screw this up again.”
Palming the globes of his fine ass, she paused her wanton attempt to push him inside her.
“I won’t either,” she whispered, returning the solemn vow.
He rewarded her with the devilish grin he’d been born with and the powerful surge of his hips, filling her to overflowing in one forceful thrust.
And the earth moved. The planets aligned. There was peace in the Middle East and Destiny’s Child reunited.
It was that amazing.
Nails digging into his flesh at the tight fit, the echo of her harsh cry reverberated off the walls.
He froze. “Okay?” The single word was laced with concern.
“Mmm,” she murmured, cradling him between her thighs. “Like a million bucks.”
Groaning, he pulled all the way out, teasing her entrance with the swollen tip of his cock. Dipping in, then out, then surging back in fully, again and again, in a steady rhythm that hit the target deep within each time. He knew her body well, her lusty moans encouraging him.
His hands never moved from her face, eyes never straying from her gaze, silently relaying that his soul was just as connected as his body—telling her the finale to an evening of heavy conversation, supercharged emotion, and joyous reconciliation wasn’t just fucking. It was lovemaking.
It was homecoming.
Sweat dotted his upper lip and his cheekbones were flush, his forehead dropping to hers with a growl. Hips pumping steadily, she matched his pace, taking all he gave. This wasn’t the time for a marathon session. They’d been apart too long.
“I’m close.” His hand slid down her body, past her adorned navel to stroke where they were joined, fingers circling the tiny bundle of nerves. “Catch up.”
Exactly three seconds later, she beat him to the finish line, her inner muscles rippling, milking him as her body exploded.
“Oh… oh, my God.” Clawing at him, she rode the intense wave, her head falling back as she groaned with each radiating pulse. “Ash,” she whimpered, his name a breathy pant. “Don’t stop. Keep moving. It’s so good.”
Not pausing to enjoy the show, he increased his speed, pounding into her with a primal voracity she’d expected the moment he tossed her onto the bed. His breathing was labored, his skin coated in perspiration, his low moans inciting fiery aftershocks in her drenched center, gripping his erection even tighter.
“Liv, I—” Tensing, he slowed his thrusts, pushing up on his arms. “Fuck, I didn’t think this through.”
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, squeezing him internally, his words not registering. “Don’t you dare stop.”
A strategic flick of his finger—or hers—and she’d head into multiple orgasm land. The thought had her locking her ankles around his waist, changing the angle. Smooth, high strokes would do it, too.
“No condom.” He stilled completely, reaching to untangle her legs. “I can’t pull out like this.”
“No. Don’t.” Her strength was no match against his, but he let her win the battle.
“Liv…” Her name was both a question and a warning.
“It’s okay.” With her arms and legs wrapped around him, he began to move again as she whispered what her heart knew was true all along. “It’s okay. I love you.”
His harsh breathing intensified, and the hesitation she’d sensed faded. Stroking deep, he buried his face in her neck, his thrusts driving him closer to the edge.
On a guttural groan, his big body tensed, hips grinding into her as if he could possibly go deeper.
“It’s okay,” she repeated, holding him, soothing him as he rode out his own orgasm, shuddering and pouring into her without a barrier. “We’re okay.”
This was a fresh start.
Ash and Liv, new and improved.
“Holy shit,” he grumbled, long minutes later. “I felt that in my teeth.”
Laughing softly, she stroked his hair and fought sleep. The emotional overload of the day closed in, but she whimpered when he slid from her body, feeling a void already.
“Don’t worry, darlin’. I can be back inside you in twenty minutes. Ten if you touch yourself for me.” The bed jostled as he pulled the sheet over them, rolling to his back and cradling her against his chest.
How he had the energy to lift a pinkie was beyond her.
“You’re not getting that lucky tonight.” Voice drowsy, she placed a kiss over his heart, throwing him a bone. “Maybe tomorrow.”
A perfect swirl of chest hair padded her cheek as she rested her head, wondering how body hair could grow in such an appealing manner. She knew manscaping wasn’t on his to-do list, and yet, he looked like a fertile female had built him from scratch. The definition of raw masculinity.
“Can’t wait for tomorrow then.” He kissed her temple. “I have a lot to look forward to.”
“We both do.”
“Oh, you wanna watch, too? Fine with me.” He chuckled when she clucked her tongue.
Looking up at him, she rested her chin on her hand. “And in other good news, maybe we’re not gonna drink poisoned Kool-Aid after all. Maybe we’ll just keep doing what we’ve been doing since the start of summer and see where it takes us.”
“Already know where it takes us. Straight to forever town.”
Stroking the warm skin low on his navel, she drew tiny figure eights with the pad of her finger and imagined his dream house in the suburbs. “Is there a pool in the backyard of forever town? And a silver SUV?”
“Whatever you want. It’s yours.”
The bubble gum pink bedroom flashed in her mind, and it didn’t hurt as bad. One to ten on the pain scale, it was a three. A dull, but present ache. A stunning reversal, considering she’d shown up to the condo with her feather pillows and a raging eight on her shoulder.
Life was cruel. It was unkind. But it also marched forward, handing out second-chance cards along the way. And Marie, a quirky shrink who’d taken one look at Olivia four years ago and penciled her in for a decade of therapy, was right.
“Why are you here?” Marie had asked, minutes into their first session.
“Because I’m going through Hell,” was Olivia’s honest reply.
Ever the straight shooter, Marie’s counter question was direct. “Do you want to get out?” At the time, the answer wasn’t so forthcoming. When Olivia reluctantly nodded, Marie’s response was stupid simple. “Then keep walking.”
It felt as if she’d walked a thousand miles—crawled kicking and screaming a good few hundred of them.
But she’d made it out.
“What I want is you.” Fingers stalling, she looked up at his handsome face. “In a two-story Colonial in suburbia. In a pop-up camper outside of Yosemite. In a double-wide along the coast. I don’t care. I just want you.”
“Right answer, Livvy.” In a flash, she was flat on her back, Ash looming over her. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some ground to make up.”
She yelped when he flipped her to her stomach, kneeing her legs apart and lifting her ass, erection poised at her weeping entrance.
“Don’t be shy, now.” Her joke was muffled by the pillow and a tangle of blonde
hair. “I’m hoping I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
“Consider it done.” Slipping through her wet folds, he teased but didn’t dive in. “We played with fire tonight. Tell me what to do. Now, before it’s too late.”
“Don’t pull out.” Her breath caught, shocked at her instinctual response.
Neither analyzed the terrifying idea, the possible repercussions fading as he groaned and pushed home, reducing their world to only them, in their marriage bed, in a condo made for two—or three—overlooking a marina.
Playing their second-chance card.
Liv managed to walk the next day, and the others after that, but not for his lack of trying. He was making up for lost time at a staggering, sexually gratifying pace. With the stamina of a frat boy coursing through him, the woman was lucky she wasn’t chained to the bed, naked and on all fours.
A good portion of the summer had flown by since their soul-baring reconciliation, Ash doing his best to lavish her with attention and spoil her with multiple orgasms. She wasn’t complaining. The telltale glow of a woman well-loved radiated from her, a nice side effect to Ash and Liv Rebooted. He was feeling damn good himself, having usurped Sam as numero uno at the office, thanks to a repeat-customer discount at the red velvet cupcake bakery.
And the good didn’t stop at the physical.
Independence Day had come and gone while they’d settled back into married life with the zeal of newlyweds, minus the learning curve.
He didn’t leave the toilet seat up, and she didn’t make a meal without meat.
She didn’t complain about how he loaded the dishwasher, and he didn’t gripe about her expanding shampoo and conditioner collection.
She didn’t bring up Marshall when he asked about her work day, delicately avoiding any mention of his father. He didn’t leave town for Scorpio, but readied her—reassuring her—for the impending time when he would.
All was right in their world, and they were ridiculously happy.
But years of military training had taught him many things, and lesson number one, drilled into him by every CO he’d ever had, was to never get complacent. That’s when missions went FUBAR. Which meant he was on standby for the other shoe to drop.
Actually, right this second, he was all about getting Liv’s panties to drop.
Hazy golden rays of sun slanted across the disheveled bed, sweeping over her fluttering eyelids, her long lashes like gossamer wings. His very own angel of the morning.
Topless angel of the morning.
Face to face and sharing a pillow, he slid his hand over the arch of her hip, hooking a finger under the band of those offending panties.
“Mmm, good morning,” she mumbled, eyes opening drowsily. “If I’m dreaming, don’t wake me up.”
“You can go back to sleep if you want, but it’s gonna make what I’m about to do a little creepy.” His fingers strayed inward, her womanly heat a beacon. “And a felony. Don’t press charges.”
Face turning into the pillow, she laughed. “Say please first, or I’m calling the cops.”
A debate raged within him. Fight the string panties and her relaxed body to get them off in a dignified manner? Or rip the white cotton into pieces and beg forgiveness after he gained access?
The sound of fabric ripping at the seams was followed by the ring of her cell phone, vibrating from the nightstand on his side of the bed.
“Hey!” She propped herself up, pushing away blonde hair Barbie would envy to look at her torn underwear. “What the hell?”
“Sorry?” That shit apology wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“Maybe try saying that without a grin on your face. It’ll be more believable.”
“Can’t help it,” he muttered, lowering his mouth to hers. “I’m a terrible liar.”
A warning bell sounded in his head as he sipped from her lips, the mental SOS increasing by the day. He’d let this woman become important to him again, become his lifeblood, vital nourishment needed to survive. There’d been no talk of a future, beyond her statement to see where things took them, and yes, love was freely mentioned, but trust took time to rebuild.
In the back of his mind, that corner where he allowed vulnerability, it felt like she’d signed a temporary marriage contract with an option to opt-out anytime.
Opening himself up again, letting emotion dictate action, was a high-stakes gamble.
“Okay, I forgive you,” she whispered between kisses, her hand snaking down his naked body, “but only because you’re commando.”
She stilled just south of his belly button, her annoying phone ringing again.
“There’ll be severe punishment if you answer that.” His lips grazed her temple. “In the form of a light spanking on that luscious ass of yours.”
“Yeah, right.” Her tone wry, the sudden blush told him she was more intrigued than she let on.
“Okay, you win. I’ll spank you as hard as you want. Our safe word will be pancakes. But then, I need food.” He lifted his head off the pillow, checking the time. “I’m starving. Let’s hit that farmer’s market in Encinitas later. I’ll make coconut shrimp and mango salsa for dinner.”
It was a lazy Sunday, and they’d slept in. According to his gorgeous wife however, it was against the law to consider seven-thirty late. Apparently, it was a known fact to everyone but him that those who valued sleep defined in as anything after ten.
“Hand me that.” She gestured for the phone when it rang a third time. He raised a brow, and she giggled. “I’ll accept my punishment, but only if you promise to kiss and make it better afterwards.”
“You drive a hard bargain. Really hard.” He pointed to his rapidly rising cock, and her smile made his head spin. “But you have yourself a deal.”
Seeing the vineyard’s house number on her caller ID, he hissed a vile curse, handing it over with a scowl.
“Mrs. Coleson speaking,” she drawled into the phone. Sinking her teeth into his shoulder, she licked the bite mark and added, “I’m in a very important meeting with the younger Mr. Coleson at the moment, so I hope this is worth the distraction. Y’all know he’s so dreamy, right?”
Mrs. Coleson. God, he’d never get tired of that.
A garbled, panicked voice crackled in the background, speaking without pause, and Liv shot straight up in bed. Her smile fell as the caller rambled. “I’ll be right there,” was her only response, the phone dropping to her lap.
“What is it?” He sat up, rubbing her arm when she didn’t respond. “Liv?”
Shaking her head, she came out of her trance. “It’s Marshall. I have to go.”
“Oh, fuck him,” he said with disgust. “That guy’s gotta cut the cord. You’re his employee and his daughter-in-law, nothing more, nothing less. It’s Sunday, and you’re not going to work today. You’re spending it with your husband.”
“No,” she whispered, “you don’t understand. That was Rosa.” Slow motion to frenzied rush in a heartbeat, she jumped out of bed, holding her hand out to him. “Ash, get up. This is important.”
“What?” He eyed her wagging hand like a snake.
Grabbing his forearm and tugging, she laid a trembling hand on his chest when he rolled to his feet. “Your dad is on his way to UC San Diego Medical Center in the back of an ambulance. He collapsed in the rose garden this morning. Benny found him unresponsive, and the paramedics are trying to revive him.” She bit her bottom lip, hesitating. “I’m so sorry. They don’t think he’ll make the ride in.”
Banding her arms around him, she laid her cheek against his pec muscle and held tight.
Squeezing briefly, she let go and ran into the closet, flinging clothes at the bed and darting into the bathroom.
Coming out a minute later, she saw him stuck to the same spot and shooed him with her hand. “Go! Get dressed! We can be there by the time the ambulance arrives.”
He stood there, staring at her as she hooked a lacy black bra and hopped on one foot to pull on a pair of tight jeans, slices
cut across the knees and frayed spots dotting the denim.
“Did those jeans come ripped like that when you bought them? What genius figured out people would pay good money for worn-out clothes?”
The questions were ridiculous, given the circumstances, but it was a logical inquiry. Since his mind had shut down at the words “he won’t make the ride in,” it was the best his brain could do at the moment.
“What?” Liv’s high-pitched voice brought him out of it. “Get dressed, Ash! We gotta go.”
“No.”
“What?” Her hands threaded through her hair, tugging the blonde mane into a messy ponytail. “What do you mean, no?”
“I’m not going. And I don’t want you to, either. He doesn’t deserve it.”
Stunned, she stared at him. If she was searching for signs of life, of panicked compassion or resigned duty, she’d be looking all day.
Pointing a Ferrari-red fingernail at him, he realized he’d never told her how much he liked that nail polish color. It made him think of cherries. Of her. Juicy and tart on his tongue.
“You’re getting dressed and coming with me to that hospital, Asher Coleson. If I have to call Sam and have him pick up your smoking-hot body and carry it there forcibly, so help me God, I will do it.”
“Gonna take more than him.”
“I’m sure I can find four more happy to help. Now move your ass!”
He stood his ground.
“Four fucking years, we were apart.” His sinister tone matched his change in mood. “He interfered in our marriage, time after time, for years. He played me and ruined my life, all because he held a grudge over easy access pussy. I have no loyalty to him, alive or dead, and neither should you. Your loyalty is to me. And only me.”
Her head snapped back. “Wow. What a macho, elitist attitude. It’s good to be king, huh?”
“I’m king of nothing, Liv. I’m jack shit. My wife is running off to play nurse to my enemy, to the man who was a third wheel in our relationship from day one.”