slowly lifts. “Are you sure? Remember what happened the last time you asked me to do that.”
I wrapped my hand around his cock and that was only the beginning of what my dreams had planned. “I remember.” My voice comes out husky, ragged.
His pupils dilate and his focus sharpens. He drops his head closer to mine. Our lips are inches away. “I liked what happened.”
“Me, too,” I whisper.
That’s the last of either of our restraint. He wipes out all my insecurities at being completely and utterly resistible. His lips smash against mine and I throw my arms around his neck. Need rages inside me, and I ignore the alarm at the back of my mind that’s trying to tell me this is crossing all boundaries and there’s no going back.
My ability to be responsible around Simon is fatigued. I’m not strong enough to resist him.
Cool metal presses against my ass as he shoves my shorts down, but I don’t think twice about it. My hands are busy yanking his bottoms past his sudden erection. He’s hard for me this quickly and the satisfaction I feel is another balm for my hurt pride.
My shorts and underwear are tugged down and drop down my thighs to pool around my ankles. I don’t have to step out of them. I’m being lifted. I cling tighter to Simon, my tongue clashing with his. We can’t get enough of each other.
I automatically spread my legs for him and his thick length prods my entrance. He wedges a hand between us to steady himself and check that I’m ready, but it’s a waste of time. I clench my legs to encourage him to just fucking thrust already.
He pushes in. One smooth jerk of his hips.
I moan against his mouth and he flattens a big hand on my thigh.
His unsteady breath wafts over my mouth. “God, Natalie. It’s been too fucking long.”
“I haven’t been—” I gasp as he moves inside me. Nothing I could do on my own fills me like him. “I haven’t done this since—” The ecstasy leaves me incoherent.
He pulls almost all the way out and shoves back in. I tighten my legs around him.
He kisses down my chin to my neck. “There’s only been you. Just you.”
The confirmation that he hasn’t been with anyone else is gasoline poured directly on the burning fire of my desire. He plants open mouth kisses along my neck and works my shirt up between us.
I have to prop my hands on the washer. My chest is bared, and he lavishes attention on my breasts over the material of my bra, all the while steadily thrusting.
“I’m not going to last long.” He switches to the other nipple. They’re straining against the fabric, sensitive to the point of exquisite pain and the only remedy is his touch. “You feel too fucking good.”
I arch into him. He’s always been able to get me off with little effort. It’s one reason why I haven’t touched myself since we divorced. The work of getting myself to orgasm when he can do it with a tilt of his head and a few flicks of his tongue just increases my tension instead of relieving it.
He changes the angle, knowing exactly how I like it when we do it standing up. His blunt tip hits the right spot over and over and over until I’m shaking.
I throw my arms around him and he straightens so I can bury my face in his neck to muffle my cries. Despite my effort, noise escapes in a series of squeaks, panting, and low moans as I come all over him.
“God, Natalie. You kill me.” He jacks his hips to impale me once more and stiffens. I look up to see the rigid clench of his jaw and how he’s throwing his head back to ride out his climax. I hold him as he releases inside of me.
I’m still on the pill. It was on a list of decisions I didn’t want to make when our marriage imploded. I knew full well I wouldn’t be needing it because moving on with someone else was the last thing on my mind. Yet hoping for Simon to show up at the door begging for a reconciliation was a dream I wasn’t prepared to give up at the time.
Today, I’m grateful for the decision. Adding a baby to this uncertain time would only complicate matters and put more pressure on Simon when he’s only just committed to making a change.
We cling to