Page 151 of Bridesmaid By Chance
That’s all it takes—my orgasm tips over the edge, and I’m coming around him, contracting my walls, prolonging his orgasm as well.
“Oh fuuuuuck,” he groans as we both start to fade back down to reality. I fall on top of his chest, and he wraps his arms around me, keeping me close to him.
He holds me tightly, kissing my shoulder, kissing my neck, and when I lift up just a little, his lips find mine, and once again, we make out, letting our tongues dance and our mouths meld together.
When we pull away, I remove the vibrator and wash it in the bathroom, trying to regain my bearings. I turn around to find him standing in the doorway, leaning against it.
I turn back around and lean against the bathroom counter and watch his eyes in the mirror as they travel up and down my body before they fix back on my face.
“Where the fuck did you learn that?” he asks.
I shrug. “You know…places.”
He walks up to me and lifts me up on the counter. He wraps his hand around the nape of my neck and holds me still. “I fucking blacked out.”
“Good.” I lean forward and kiss the marks I left on his chest from my fingers. “I’m glad.”
“You can’t do that to me, Sloane. I’m too old.”
That makes me laugh as I look up at him. “I thought you said you were not that old.”
“Blacking out during sex means I’m too goddamn old.”
“Or it means you might finally be with someone compatible.”
“That could not be more right.” His hand travels down my back before he brings my leg up on the counter, exposing me. “I feel like I owe you more.” He squats down in front of me and I chuckle.
“I’m not going to say no to that.” And then he starts playing with me with his tongue, and I lean against the mirror, staring up at the ceiling, so grateful that I married this man.
Chapter Twenty-Two
HUDSON
“I should have worn a skirt today,” Sloane says as she stands in front of Westminster Abbey. “The breeze could have blown it up, and I could have had a Marilyn Monroe moment.” She does the classic pose, and I lower her phone from where I’m taking a picture.
“I would not have enjoyed that.”
She playfully pouts. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want any more strangers seeing my wife’s perfect ass.”
She clutches her chest. “Aww, you called my ass perfect.”
“Because it is,” I grumble as I lift the camera again and take a picture of her posing in front of the majestically beautiful building.
We decided to ride on the big red buses for an on-and-off tour. Basically, you hop on and off at any stop for the whole day. Sloane was all about it, wanting to sit on the top level. I’ve never done it to be honest, too touristy for me, but experiencing it with Sloane, it’s probably one of the most amusing things I’ve done in a long time. Because when she’s not oohing and ahhing and pointing at things she wants me to look at, she’s snuggled into my side, stroking my leg, whispering in my ear…
Fuck, this…this is very addicting.
My wife is addicting.
Her contagious smile.
Her flirty attitude.
Her need to touch me as her love language.
I like it. I like it too much.
