Page 179 of Shades of Loyalty
And I plan on starting right now.
My lips gently trace her jawline before her lips meet mine, both of us lost in a world where it’s only us, everyone else neither existing, nor interfering.
The kiss is feverish, her fingers trembling beneath mine. And for once, I don’t hold back. I let her feel it—everything. The ache, the hunger, the pain, the love I’ve never been good at saying out loud.
She sighs into my mouth like she’s letting go of every piece of doubt that ever lived in her bones. Like she finally believes she’s safe. Loved. Owned in every way that matters.
She fucking is. I’m making sure of that. I always will. My pretty wife.
My mouth trails lower again, this time slower, more deliberate, brushing against the hollow of her throat, her collarbone, the soft skin just above the lace covering herchest. She gasps when my teeth catch the delicate strap of her lingerie, tugging it down with a kind of reverence that borders on worship.
“You don’t fucking know what you do to me,” I whisper against her skin. “I look at you and forget everything else. My past. My pain. All I see isyou. The future I want to build with you…”
She arches beneath me, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in that perfect kind of surrender.
And when I finally pull the rest of the fabric away, I do it like I’m unwrapping the most precious gift. Because she is. She's myeverything.
I don’t need anything else in the world, if it just means that she’s all mine.
The night stretches ahead of us, quiet and still and sacred. And I swear, with every breath she takes and every sound she makes—I make a silent promise.
That this love between us? It’s never going to fade. Not in this life. Not in the next. Not ever.
A few goosebumps cover her body as I go down on her, licking her pussy like it’s the first time I’m tasting a delicious meal like that.
Because holy fuck, she tastes like heaven.
Made for me,justfor me. The pure thought of her fucking ex going down on her just to leave her—God, I want to kill this bastard.
He never deserved her. In fact, some days I wonder if I even deserve her—after all, she saved my life.
She moans, her back arching as my tongue works her slowly, then deeper and slightly rougher. Her hands twist in the sheets, clutching, shaking, trying to find something to hold on to. But I don't let up. Not even for a second, even if she’s begging for me to stop.
Every flick of my tongue, every hungry stroke is a vow. Wedding vows are beautiful, but this? Fuck. This is a reminder that this night ishers. That she’smine. That no matter what the world throws at us—I’ll always come back to her.
And I’m sure she will always come back to me as well.
She’s panting heavily, trying to be quiet, but she doesn’t need to be. Not tonight. Not when we’re alone in this house.
In our house. Our home.
Jesus Christ. I’m in my new house—new home, with my wife, tongue-fucking her on our new bed right now.
It’s fucking fantastic.
“Let go for me,” I murmur between kisses against her soaked pussy, savoring every drop of her like it’s my last taste.
Fuck, it’s my personal heaven, indeed. “Let me hear your pretty moans, pretty.”
Her fingers find my hair, tugging, grounding herself. I don’t mind it—in fact, I love it whenever we’re fucking, her hands are tugging on my hair. Something about it turns me on.
Although I’m the dominant one of us, Jesus, this woman drives me crazy with her desperate pleas to make her cum.
“More, please,” in one second, “I think I’m about to cum” in the next—I’m fucking enjoying this.
Let me phrase it perfectly.
I’m enjoying tongue fucking my wife on our bed.
