by Emma Chase
as the pulse in her neck throbs quickly with anticipation. I cover it with my mouth, sucking gently. Kate lifts her head and leans back.
“I’ve thought about this all day,” I whisper against her skin. “Getting you here, getting you bare.”
“So have I.”
With one tug, the lace and satin pools around her feet, revealing my favorite playground. Kate steps over the dress and turns to me. Though I’m not a lingerie man, her undergarments are nothing short of beautiful. Blue silk with a white lace overlay—the bra strapless, the panties bikini, leading to sexy garters that keep opaque stockings in place.
There’s wonder in Kate’s voice as she says, “You’re my husband.” Then she smiles giddily. “How great is that?”
I chuckle. “It’s pretty fucking awesome.” I step purposefully to her. “And right now, your husband wants to sixty-nine his wife.” I lick my lips. “A lot.”
I loosen my tie and pull it off. But when I start with the buttons of my shirt, Kate’s hand stops me. “Let me do it.”
She watches her fingers as they reveal inch after inch of my heated skin. She opens my shirt, pushing it and my jacket down and off my arms. Then her hands run over my shoulders slowly, across my chest, down my abs.
In a husky voice she says, “I love your body, Drew. So strong, so hard . . . I could spend all night just touching you like this.”
My heart pounds in my chest.
She opens my belt, the clasp of my pants. She crouches and kisses the happy trail. “And this right here”—her tongue traces the V of my upper pelvis, sculpted lines that show when sweats sit low on my hips—“this is my favorite part.”
My breathing speeds up, and when her tongue goes back to teasing, I can’t help but thrust forward, wanting it so frigging badly to be her I’m thrusting into.
Her mouth, her cunt . . . not choosy at the moment.
She drags my pants down my legs, and because of its proximity to Kate’s mouth, my cock aches. Finally naked, I sit on the bed and crook my finger at Kate. “Come here.”
She stands, and, keeping her bridal heels on, she struts to me. I grasp her hips; she braces one knee on the bed, straddling my waist. My hands move to her face, holding it still, and I kiss her roughly, sucking on her tongue, making her moan.
While I worship her mouth, Kate’s hips gyrate, seeking friction. When she finds it against my dick, I grunt. Moving to her jaw and neck, I scour her skin with my lips and teeth—sucking and nibbling—while my deft fingers unclasp her bra from behind.
When her bra falls down, I lean back for the best view. “Jesus, your tits are beautiful.” I take one in my palm, massaging and kneading, before bringing it to my mouth and suckling greedily.
Kate shouts nonsensical words and clasps my head to her breast. I lave at her nipple, then fall back on the bed, taking her with me. From this position, both of her tits are accessible—I take advantage and alternate between them—kissing and flicking each hard nipple with my tongue.
Full-out panting, Kate rears back and her eyes meet mine. I’m burning up, needing more—I can’t remember ever being this desperate for her.
“Climb up here,” I say. It’s meant to be an order, but it comes out as a plea. “Right fucking here.”
She rises to her knees and slides her panties and garters down and off. The heels follow. Then she crawls up the bed next to me, swings her knee around, and hovers over my insatiable mouth. Taking her hips in my hands, I guide her pussy down to my face.
She’s so worked up, so hot, I feel the warmth against my lips even before I taste her. But when my tongue sinks inside, my eyes roll to the back of my head.
Her taste—fuck—it gets better every time. I revel in the sensation of being surrounded by her. I think she calls my name, but my heartbeat pulses so loud in my ears, I can’t be sure. While I feast on her, Kate lowers her upper body so it’s flush with my torso.
I feel her warm breath on my cock first. Then the sublime wetness of her mouth encases me—and I swear my heart stops in its tracks.
People who think this is wrong or depraved are out of their mind. If that were true, we wouldn’t fit like this so fucking perfectly. We were made to do this.
My fingers dig into the flesh of her perfect ass. Holding her against me, moving her left and right in an unforgiving rhythm guaranteed to make her come. I want that so much—to feel her, my wife, pulsing around my tongue, writhing against my face.
She’s not slow or teasing with her mouth now. She takes me all the way in, until I feel the back of her throat—then she sucks hard as she slides upward. Over and over, until my legs quake.
We work in tandem, giving and receiving the most salacious pleasure. She hums around me, and the vibrations push me closer to the edge. I feel the tingles in my spine, the tightening of my balls.
But I don’t want to come like this—not yet. I’ll certainly revisit that opportunity later, but this first time, I want to be buried deep inside her when I let go.
With renewed vigor, I find her clit with my tongue. I press against it, suck on it, then thrust inside her—stimulating all her pleasure points. When Kate starts to buck against me, when she loses her focus on my cock and has to take her mouth off it to get in enough air—I know my actions are about to pay off.
“Drew,” she whimpers against my thigh, holding on to my legs, trying to ground herself because she’s about to take flight. I grasp her ass tighter. . . .
She’s there. Falling. Flying. A thousand blissful eruptions coursing through her as she comes on my face and calls my name. Over and over.
Afterward, Kate stills and her harsh breaths tickle my thighs. Taking one last lick, I maneuver her boneless limbs until she’s lying on the bed and I’m above her.
She smiles into my face, looking happy and orgasm-weak. “That was so good . . . the best ever.”
I can only smirk as pure masculine pride wells in my chest. “The best . . . so far.”
She lifts her arms around my neck, her knees bent and resting against my ribs. “Love me, Drew. Make love to me. Please.”
I drag the tip of my cock up and down over her opening, savoring the feel of her hot wetness. “Look at me, Kate.”
She gazes up at me—and I swear it feels like she’s seeing into my soul. I push into her slowly, drawing the action out until our lower stomachs press together.
We’re joined deeply—in every conceivable way.
My head tilts back and I shift my hips, moving in tight, close rotations. “You’re so wet, Kate . . . you feel . . . Christ, it’s unbelievable.”
It really is.
In the last five years, I’ve wondered if sex between Kate and me would ever get stale. Ever not feel as if my blood vessels were exploding from pleasure overload.
Hasn’t happened yet.
As far as I’m concerned, this cinches it. It’s just going to keep getting better.
Her inner muscles contract and squeeze. At last I start to move, dragging my dick out from her heavenly pussy, then thrusting back in. Groaning louder each time.
I lift up so I can watch. Nothing is more of a turn-on than watching my cock disappear into Kate. If I was going to go blind, that would be the last image I’d want to take into the darkness with me.
“Kiss me, Drew,” she begs.
I lower my head and Kate’s tongue runs across my lips, then plunges into my mouth—tangling with my own. Our hips move together, gaining speed and force. Our moans and whispered words mingle in our mouths and along the skin of our necks and shoulders.
This is more than magnificent screwing.
More than the physical expression of love.
It’s spiritual.
I don’t know if there’s a heaven. I sure as shit don’t know if I’ll ever get there. But if there is . . . it’s got to feel like this. Perfect harmony with another soul, surrounded by warmth and acceptance and rapture without end.
Amen.
Kate’s hips rise to meet mine as I
thrust into her again and again. Searing pleasure courses up my legs, threatening to burst, but I hold it off—because there’s no way I’m going alone.
All I can pant out is “With me . . .”
Kate gasps, “Yes . . .”
I push in deep one last time and burst inside her in a forceful pulse. Spots dance behind my closed eyes, and exhilaration floods the motherfucking marrow of my bones. Kate constricts and throbs around me as her nails bite into my back.
After, neither of us moves for a few minutes. Not sure either of us can.
I finally manage to roll to the side, with my arms still around her—both of us breathing hard and slick with the best kind of sweat.
She brushes the damp hair off my forehead with a smile.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “That was incredible. We should’ve gotten married years ago.”
“You said it. I think I had a stroke.”
We laugh.
There are a few specific moments in my life that I consider as the greatest. That first night with Kate. The day she believed I loved her and told me she felt the same. The day James was born.
And this . . . this moment right here just made the list.
I pull her close and touch her face. My voice is rough, heavy with emotion, as the words are torn from my lungs. “I love you, Kate. I’m going to love you forever. And whatever comes after forever—I’m going to love you then too.”
My words bring tears to her eyes, She kisses me gently, softly. Then she traces my lips with her finger. “You can bet your ass that I’m going to hold you to that, Drew Evans.”
So that’s it. The epic conclusion.
I think we’ve come a long away, don’t you? From that guy you first met with the “flu,” camped out on his living-room couch?
Boy, was he a fucking mess.
Thanks for sticking around, for not giving up on me. I know that at times you wanted to. But . . . it was great having you along for the ride.
If this were a fairy tale, now would be the time you’d read, “And they lived happily ever after . . .”
But that’s just too boring for us.
So instead, I’ll tell you this:
We lived . . . the same way we loved: with passion, tenderness, and laughter. And every day—every fucking day—to the very fullest.