REprisal - Kathy Coopmans Page 0,34

of me, twirling it, probing and fucking me wildly with his mouth.

Sturdy hands hold me steadily by my ass, making it next to impossible to move. My head falls back, my long hair cascading down my back. I let out the loudest cry of pure pleasure when he centers his mouth over my clit, flicking it with his tongue, moving side to side and up and down. After a few minutes of this, he moves in and sucks on it like a vacuum. That is all it takes for me to have an intense, explosive orgasm, chanting his name over and over again.

Giving me no time at all to come down from my high, he lets go of my ass and unclasps my bra, the straps falling down my arms on their own, exposing my breasts.

“Jesus. You are so beautiful, and I am so damn lucky. Ride me. Right here where I asked you to be my wife, ride me and let me watch you.”

He doesn’t even have to ask. I fling my bra off into the grass and move seductively down his body, dragging my bare, soaking pussy down his bare chest, leaving a trail of wet juices as I go.

Facing him, I grasp his cock and slide my hand up and down, giving him one long pump. My eyebrows go up; he lifts one corner of his mouth in response.

I clench as I line him up then slam myself down onto his thick, hard shaft. I piston myself up and down, feeling him deep inside as he pumps his hips up into me.

“God, look at you. The vision of you riding me in the morning light, watching my cock go in and out of you with those stunning breasts of yours bouncing, takes my breath away. You’re gorgeous, Mrs. Calloway.” I cannot speak. I am caught up in his spell. My hips continuously circle, grinding in quick, controlled movements.

The closer I get to orgasm, the more my momentum picks up. Turner knows my body so well. He thrusts harder into me, groping both of my breasts in his hands, tweaking my hard nipples as he slams up into me.

“Come for me. I’m so close.”

When he speaks to me with his voice so low, his eyes so dark, his love for me building with every touch, every drive, I come and I shout his name at the same time he bellows mine and empties himself inside of me.

I wake, disoriented and unbelievably hotter than when I fell asleep. It was a dream; a dream that was once real. That morning is one of my fondest memories of my husband and me, one of the only days we have ever skipped work.

Turner planned it all out weeks ahead of time. He shut the office down completely just to spend the entire day lying with me in the tall grass and skinny-dipping in the lake. He made love to me two more times, once on the water’s edge, and another time with me on my hands and knees on the small beach.

I don’t know if Trent saying that Turner was alive brought this sudden memory front and center, or if it’s the fact I am alone and scared for the first time since I gave birth to my daughter. All I know is, I miss my husband, the man I loved unequivocally.

My mother has robbed my daughter and me of a future with Turner. It’s been over a year since he has been gone and I have never grieved for him. I don’t want to be here alone anymore, in this small space where I can hear his laughter, see his handsome face. No one will ever fill the void I have been left with.

“I’m so sorry, Turner. God, I am so sorry.”

I cry, bang on the lid of the trunk, kick, and scream until my voice is hoarse and my fists hurt from the constant beating I am giving them.

“Why?”

I have been curled up on my side for what I know has been hours. My bladder is about ready to fucking burst. My breasts hurt so damn bad from the buildup of milk inside of them.

My tears have all dried. I lie there for several minutes and when we start to slow, my eyes go wide, all the pain forgotten. I stay quiet as we come to a stop, waiting for any sign or sound of someone approaching. After an eternity, I hear a car door slam, then another one