Till Forever

by Elena Matthews

  Pins and needles erupt up my spine, my balls tingling, as my orgasm hits. I know Mia’s close, but I’m too far gone to wait for her, and I explode on a series of grunts and growls, my fingers turning white from their strong grip against her hips as I come for what seems like a century. Mia continues to ride me until I’m completely spent. I swear, I black out for a minute, but when I open my eyes and refocus my gaze on Mia, I’m surprised I don’t spring to life again at the way one of her hands caresses against her right tit while the other is cupping her pussy, a finger rubbing circles against her clit. A telltale sign that she’s ready for more. And why wouldn’t she be? I came before she was able to.

  But I’m not one to keep my wife unsatisfied.

  “Come here,” I breathlessly husk out.

  She lifts her hips and shifts forward an inch as I pull out of her. I replace her hand from her pussy with my own hand, and I feel when my cum begins to seep from her entrance. I capture it with two of my fingers and force it back inside her.

  What can I say? I love knowing every bit of me is inside her.

  I slide in easily, and she grounds her hips against my hand as I begin to move in and out of her soaked pussy.

  “Fuck my hand, baby.”

  She slams down on my hand, and I finger her hard, the tips of my fingers hitting her G-spot over and over. Her moans are loud, and each whimper from her mouth is more erotic than any porno I’ve ever watched. She rides my hand, her lustful gaze on mine, her fingers buried in her hair, as her orgasm vastly approaches.

  “Tyler, yes! Just like that. Yes, right there.”

  The walls of her pussy clench against my fingers, and her hips move harder against me. I follow suit by slamming my fingers deeper into her.

  “Come, baby. Come all over my hand,” I urge on a husky demand, my thumb brushing hard against her clit.

  A second later, she lets out a rip-roaring scream, and she stills as she comes around my fingers, wetness gushing against my stomach in a quick spurt.

  Holy shit, I just made my wife squirt.

  Hottest damn thing ever.

  She trembles on top of me, and my cock hardens again as I watch her fall into pieces above me, her hips moving again, riding out her orgasm against my hand. I barely give her a chance to recover as I grab her and force her on her back before my painfully hard dick slides into her.

  She lets out a breathless shriek, gripping hold of my arms.

  “Again?” She grins through glazed eyes, her chest still heaving along with her racing heart.

  I look down at her, loving the way she’s all flushed and out of breath. “Yes, again. You just came all over me, so you do the math, baby,” I say, still able to feel her essence damp on my skin and on the sheets below us.

  I grunt as I ease out of her, only to push back inside.

  She giggles while letting out a long moan. “I’m starting to sense a vicious cycle here.”

  I shake my head, nuzzling into the side of her neck, inhaling the salty yet sweet aroma from her skin, my cock beginning to slowly move in and out of her soaked pussy.

  God, she feels incredible.

  “Nothing vicious about it. I just can’t get enough of you.”

  I brush my lips along her jawline and make my way to her lips. I trace my tongue against her lips before pressing a full kiss there.

  “We can’t keep having sex all night,” Mia says on an exhale.

  Her hips lazily circle with mine, and my hips move a little faster.

  “Wanna bet?”

  Of course, ten minutes later, I lose. The instant we each have our release, I remember one last thing before I pass out from sex exhaustion. And that’s when I mutter the words, “Your lipstick still hasn’t budged.”

  Mia blinks with surprise when she opens the door to me and Harley on Thanksgiving morning. Harley whimpers with excitement, his tail wagging like crazy, but I have to rein him in with his leash, so he doesn’t knock her onto her ass when he tries to jump up.

  Big-ass dog.

  “Down,” I command.

  He stands to attention.

  “Sit.”

  He sits but keeps his eyes on Mia, his tail swinging rapidly from side to side, his tongue hanging out, heavily panting, as if he can barely contain himself.

  “Good boy,” I praise.

  “Hey,” she begins with full happiness to her voice. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t picking me up until tonight.” While she says this, she crouches to the dog’s level and scratches him behind his ears, making a fuss over him. “Hi, baby boy. How are you doing?”

  Harley responds by licking the hell out of her face. She giggles.

  “Well, I have something for you, and I wanted to give it to you before tonight.”

  She stands tall, smiling coyly with an eyebrow raised. “What? Like a gift?”

  “Sort of.” I grin, and intrigue deepens her features. “You gonna let me in?” I eye the door behind her.

  She steps aside and lets me inside. Once over the threshold, I unclip Harley from his leash, and he bounds through the apartment, nose to the ground, no doubt investigating all the things he can cause havoc with. Especially socks.

  He’s such a sock thief.

  “First of all, can I say how sexy you look this morning?” I pull her into my arms and brush my lips to hers.

  She rolls her eyes when I pull back. “Hardly. I’m still in my pajamas.”

  What she doesn’t mention is that her pajamas are a white see-through—and I mean, see-through—tee hanging from her right shoulder and a pair of red lace shorts. Her hair is also in a messy bun, and the wavy strands of hair that hang loose down her neck and the side of her face is the definition of sexy.

  “Yes, you are,” I say, planting another kiss to her lips. “Second, I didn’t just come here to grope my wife. I really do have something for you.” I pull away and reach into my pocket for the surprise I have for her.

  I hand her a white envelope, and she just stares at it.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s what we’re doing for our second third date. Open it.”

  We had our second second date last week. I wanted to follow with tradition and take her bowling, like we had on our second date, but I already had our second third date in the bag, and I didn’t want her to become suspicious, so I took her to dinner and a movie instead to steer her off course.

  Adrenaline courses through me as she rips open the envelope, a smile on her face.

  She pulls the tickets out, and her eyes scan over them for a second before she gasps. “Oh my God, you didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “Maroon 5! You got me tickets for Maroon 5!” she exclaims with excitement. She looks back to the tickets, and her eyes widen. “Wait, the concert’s in Punta Cana? As in the Dominican Republic?”

  I grin even wider. “The very place.”

  “Holy shit, Tyler.” She smacks me with the very tickets, and I laugh again. “Are you serious?” she squeaks.

  Harley eagerly bounds over, circling Mia, as he no doubt wonders what all the commotion is about.

  “As my dad always says, as serious as a heart attack.”

  “We’re going to the Dominican Republic?” she hesitantly asks, almost as if she expects it to be a setup.

  I take hold of her hand that’s not gripping hold of the tickets and level with her. “Mia, baby, listen to me carefully. We’re leaving for the Dominican Republic tomorrow and staying for six nights in the Hard Rock Hotel where Maroon 5 will be playing on Saturday night. And, before you ask again, yes, I’m serious.”

  She blinks and then blinks again. A cute little smile appears on her face. “When you say Saturday, do you mean, this Saturday? As in two days from now?”

  “Yes, and yes.”

  I see when it finally sinks in, as creases form on her forehead, and she frowns.

  “Tyler, a concert is one thing, but a vacation? I…this…this is too much. We can’t just go to the Dominic
an Republic. I mean, I’m supposed to be at work on Monday. I can’t accept this.”

  She begins to rhyme off all the reasons she can’t go, but I tell her one reason she can, “You can, and you will. It’s been a tough year for both of us, and if anyone deserves a vacation, it’s you. Please let me do this for you.”

  “Tyler, I have work. I—” she protests, but I press my finger to her lips, shutting her up.

  “I called your boss; he’s already authorized a week’s vacation leave for next week. All that’s left to do is for you to pack your suitcase and grab your passport. You don’t even need any cash, as it’s an all-inclusive resort.”

  No more arguments leave her mouth. Instead, she steps closer to me and wraps her arms around me, engulfing me in a hug. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you or how you pulled off grabbing tickets to a sold-out world tour, but thank you.”

  She stretches on her toes to press a deep kiss on my lips, one I expect to lead to other things.

  Instead, she rears back and says, “I love you, but you’ve got to go.”

  “What? Right this second?” I ask, bemused.

  “Yes, right this second. You’ve just announced we’re going to the Dominican Republic tomorrow, and I’ve only got two hours to pack before I head to my parents’ for Thanksgiving,” she says with an urgency in her voice that I find amusing.

  She begins to force me into the direction of the front door.

  “Okay, okay, I can take the hint. I’ll leave.” I call Harley, and I clip his leash back on his collar. “Oh, you should know one more thing.”

  “What?” she demands with an exasperated laugh.

  “Our flight’s at two a.m.”

  She purses her lips together, the way she does when she’s trying to hide a smirk. “Out now.”

  She opens the door, and I step outside with Harley hot on my heels.

  I turn to face her. “I’ll pick you up from your parents’ at seven?”

  She nods, but I see she’s distracted. That faraway look in her eyes tells me she’s probably already virtually listing all the things she’ll need for our trip. She’s meticulous like that.

  I give her the Christian Grey signature good-bye before turning to leave. I make my way down the stairs, and I suddenly hear laughter from behind me.

  I halt when Mia shouts from above, “Did you just quote Fifty Shades?”

  I look up to see Mia leaning against the railing of the balcony that overlooks the parking spots. I shrug, grinning smugly.

  “You’ve seen Fifty Shades?” she asks incredulously.

  “Yeah, Matt and I wanted to see what the fuss was about. She’s got one heck of a rack, but she has nothing on you.”

  I wink, and she shakes her head with a laugh.

  “Of course you noticed her tatas first.”

  “What can I say? I love my tatas.” I waggle my eyebrows with a mischievous grin.

  She throws her head back on another laugh. “You do realize I now have one hour and fifty-eight minutes to pack, thanks to this pointless conversation about a movie.”

  “Hey, that’s on you. I said my good-bye. You’re the one who’s wasted a whole minute discussing a movie.”

  “Just go.” She smiles before blowing me a kiss.

  I resume descending the stairs when I stop in my tracks and turn around. She hasn’t moved an inch, her eyes still watching me.

  “Are you sure about tonight?” I ask, all previous joking aside.

  After I asked her about joining me for Thanksgiving at my parents’, she discussed it with her therapist, and she pointed out to Mia that she can’t spend the rest of her life avoiding being around children just because she can’t deal. She went to explain that part of recovery is learning how to cope. When it comes to a loss of a child, the rest of the world doesn’t simply stop turning, and occasional interaction with children is an inevitability you can’t avoid.

  It definitely put things into perspective for me, as the reason I’ve been avoiding my brother is because I couldn’t deal with his happiness, the kind of happiness that was so quickly snatched away from us. I’m confident enough to say I’m less resentful of him now, but it’s taken me a long time to reach that point. I just hope, tonight, he can forgive me for being a complete and utter douche bag.

  Mia thought long and hard about what her therapist had said, and she decided she’d dip her toes in the water and join us after dinner at her parents’.

  She’s thoughtful for a moment before she gives a small nod. “Yes. Your family is my family. I can’t hide from them forever. It’s also about time we meet our niece.” Her voice trembles, and even though there was a little joy in her words, she’s also terrified at that prospect.

  I am, too.

  However, she manages to keep it together by smiling through the pain.

  Pride explodes in my heart at her words, “Your family is my family,” and her saying that is everything to me. It means, she’s not going anywhere. It’s the start of the beginning again for us.

  I ascend the stairs two at a time with Harley until I’m standing in front of her, tilting her head back with one hand while my lips crash onto hers. She gives a breathless inhale but quickly eases into the kiss.

  I pull away a few seconds later, a whisper on my lips. “God, I fucking love you.”

  She smiles, brushing her nose against mine, her eyes staring into mine in an almost daze. “Damn you. I’ve only got one hour and fifty-five minutes to pack now.”

  “Talking of packing, do you still have that sexy red bikini? The one you wore on our honeymoon?” I ask, remembering how hot she looked in it. It’s a miracle we even left the room at all in the duration of our honeymoon.

  “Yes.” She smiles a sexy little smile.

  “Make sure to bring it,” is all I say before turning on my feet and walking away with Harley in tow.

  Tyler

  “There’s my baby boy,” my mom greets with joy as I walk into the kitchen at my parents’ house.

  She sets something steaming hot on the counter, her hands covered in the oven mitts my dad got her last Christmas that say, My husband is so hot that I wear this to hug him. Forty years of marriage, and he’s still a hopeless romantic.

  The instant the aromas of stuffing and pumpkin pie hit my nostrils, my stomach immediately grumbles.

  “Uncle Tyler!” Junior yells.

  I grunt as he flies into me, squeezing me hard. I ruffle his hair as he pulls away.

  “Hey, bud.” I grin down at him. “You know, you won’t get any food privileges by being in here.”

  His smile doubles as he reaches down to stroke Harley at my side. “Well, I’ve already had three sugar cookies.”

  I glance at my mom with a shake of my head, mock horror on my face. “You never gave me sugar cookies when I was younger, especially not before dinner.”

  She gives a warm smile, shrugging her shoulders. “What can I say? I’m going soft in my old age.”

  I step over to her and press a kiss to her cheek. “Nah, you’re still a hard-ass.”

  She glares at me, a warning in her eyes. “Do I need to grab the soap? Thirty-one or not, you’re not too old for the soap treatment.”

  I glance to Junior with repulsion, and he giggles.

  “Sorry,” I say, grinning. “I meant, you’re still a tough cookie. That G-rated enough for you?”

  “Perfect.”

  If I know one thing about my mom, it’s that she hates vulgar language. I mean, raising three boys, you’d think she’d have found a tolerance for swearing, but that isn’t the case. I think she wanted to turn us into Prince Charmings, but when we learned how to fart with our armpits and burped the alphabet from the oldest brother, she quickly came to the realization that it was never going to happen.

  God, and don’t talk about drugs either. If she knew I tried Molly back in college or still enjoyed the occasional joint, she’d disown me. That, or outright kill me.

  I open the door to the backyard a
nd let Harley out. I go to swipe a sugar cookie off the counter, and as anticipated, my mom slaps my wrist, forcing the cookie to fall back down on the cooling rack.

  “No cookies before dinner,” she reprimands.

  I glance at Junior as he takes a seat at the breakfast bar, stirring what looks to be a bowl of cranberry juice, grinning like he’s won the lottery.

  Little shit.

  “Why can Junior have three, and I can’t have even one?” I whine like I’m all of ten years old.

  “Because I know he’ll eat his greens with dinner.”

  As much as I would like to argue that, she has a point. Brussels sprouts are the worst, yet she still insists on serving them every year.

  “Can’t argue with that. Do you need any help?” I offer while grabbing a soda from the refrigerator. I pop the top.

  “I’ve got everything covered. I have my little sous chef right here.” She beams at Junior. She then looks back at me with a pointed look. “Plus, there’s someone you need to meet.”

  I simply nod as I take a sip of Sprite.

  She then pivots her head in the direction of the living room. “No time like the present.” Her words start off slow but get caught in her chest with a rattling cough, powerful enough that she almost loses her footing.

  I set the soda down on the countertop and instinctively reach for her, looking down at her with concern. “Mom, are you okay?” I ask with worry. “Are you getting sick?”

  She honestly sounds like she’s hacking up a lung, and it’s far from the healthy woman I’ve always known her to be. I mean, what sixty-one-year-old woman do you know who does yoga? She’s never sick though. She has the immune system of a shark, so to see her so much as cough is definitely worrisome.

  Junior voices my concern a second later. “Grandma, are you okay?”

  “Yes…I’m…fine.” She tries to brush us off through a splutter of choking coughs.

  As I watch her almost dry-heave, I notice she’s paler than usual and how her clothes are a lot less fitted. In fact, when I take a closer look, she looks as if she’s lost about fifteen pounds since I last saw her just over a week ago. Her coughs ease a few seconds later, and much to my disbelief, she continues flurrying around in the kitchen.