briefs on. He’d already learned how much I enjoyed removing them myself.
I started with the skin at the top of his foot. “Pholisora catullus,” I murmured, dropping a light kiss. “A black one with white specks.” I moved over to the delicate skin covering his ankle. “Lerodea eufala. They’re nondescript but chill. I like them because they have a kind of shrug.”
As I dropped kisses up the inside of his lower leg, I continued. “And right here, I’m imagining a Thorybes diversus or maybe Vanessa annabella.” When I got to the meaty round shape of his calf, I met his eye. “For sure an Ornithoptera alexandrae right here. In a gorgeous bright blue.”
He put his palm over his mouth, and that’s when I noticed his eyes were bright with tears. I quickly moved up to find out what was wrong. After swiping my thumb under one eye to catch a rogue tear that had escaped, I asked if he was okay.
“You learned about butterflies.”
I smiled down at him. “A little.”
“For me,” he added.
“They’re important to you.” I caressed the side of his face. “Which means they’re important to me.”
Never in my life had I felt such an intense need to make someone feel special, to make sure—without a shadow of a doubt—he knew he deserved respect and kindness. I wanted him to feel heard and desired, valued and adored. I didn’t want him to experience one single moment of wondering whether or not he was cherished.
Parrish turned his face into my chest and muffled a sniff. “Sorry,” he squeaked.
I ran a hand through his hair and lay back, pulling him onto my chest. “I didn’t finish,” I said lightly. “I was kind of looking forward to inking the inside of your thighs with my tongue.”
Parrish shucked off his briefs and scrambled back until he was sprawled in the center of the quilt like a snow angel. “Continue.”
I went back to kissing and nibbling my way up the inside of his legs until spending so much time on the upper part of his inner thigh, he started whimpering and begging. I nosed past his sac and licked the crease between his leg and his balls before moving to his hip and sucking up a pink bruise.
Parrish couldn’t keep his legs still, and he’d finally let go of his manners and grabbed handfuls of my hair to yank my head up.
“Inside me. Want you inside me. Please.”
I lunged up to kiss him on the mouth, to steal my way inside of his sweet kiss and taste him before seeking out some lube and a condom. Once I’d kissed both of us breathless, I raced across the small house like a naked intruder to grab what I needed from the bathroom.
When I got back, one hand was stroking his dick slowly and the other was reaching further down to brush fingertips against his hole. Part of me wanted to watch him play with himself, but a much stronger part of me wanted to be the one doing the playing.
I kissed him again before moving down and nudging his hands out of the way. After giving his dick a few good sucks, I moved down to kiss his hole, gently at first and then much more aggressively. Parrish made a little meep sound of surprise that quickly turned into a groan of pleasure. I sucked and licked and plunged my tongue into him until his body practically melted into the ground.
When I finally grabbed the lube, I glanced up at his face and almost laughed. He looked drunk. His face was flushed, and his eyes were unfocused. His lips made a little o shape, and there was a patch of beard burn on the tip of his nose.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart,” I said reverently. “I can’t believe I get to be here with you like this.”
I thought about our new reality. For better or worse, we were married. Even if it was just on paper, it was a fact. Parrish Partridge was my husband.
Our eyes met and a million unspoken words passed between us. When I finally couldn’t wait any longer, I slid lubed fingers into him for a moment, rolled on the condom, and pressed inside him.
I couldn’t hold back the groan of relief at being back inside of him, being back as close as possible to him both in body and spirit. I finally felt like I could be honest with him about my fears and my hopes. I finally felt