Page 98 of Love What's Left
She laughs and uses my belt to yank me against her.
Our kiss stays teasing for all of one second, then, like a lit fuse, all the stress, relief, worry, and love explode into a sexual frenzy. I shove her against the wall, my left hand cupping the back of her skull so my knuckles take the brunt of the contact. My right forearm lands flat beside her head, and I smile down into those gorgeous brown eyes.
She watches me, her breasts heaving under her silky button-down blouse. Sydney may not recognize the do-over, but this is the energy we were always meant to have.
Under her deft touch, my belt buckle loosens, and my cock twitches in anticipation.
I straighten and bring my hands to the front of her blouse. With one quick jerk of both fists at the plackets, I tear her shirt apart, revealing those gorgeous tits cupped in ebony lace. She gasps as tiny pearl buttons scatter and ping in every direction, then she melts, her eyelids lowering, and her lips parting as her breaths grow shallow.
“Oh.” She squirms to get closer. “Do you rip my clothes off like a caveman often?”
My lips quirk. “Only when you need it . . . and the material is thin enough that I can pull it off in one go and still look manly.”
Eyes gleaming with mischief, she says, “I don’t know. I think a little grunting with exertion is extremely manly.”
She finishes what she started with my belt, then shoves both hands into my briefs and pushes them down. I groan as her hot touch lands exactly where I need it.
Speaking against her ear, I flick open the button on her pants and drag her zipper down. “Do you remember, wife? All the ways we made each other come?”
She shakes her head.
Under my guiding hands, her dark trousers and panties slide down her legs in a liquid fall to pool at her ankles.
I suck on her earlobe, then work my way down her neck and across her collarbone. “Then I get to watch you discover them all over again.”
34
Sydney
Ican’t think. Can’t speak. I’d tried to convince myself I was strong enough to leave him. Then he showed me I needed to be strong enough to stay.
My eyes and sinuses still burn from the wretched loss that wracked me for those hours we were apart, and now something furiously hot thunders through me.
His body cages me against the wall, and I could scream. I could bite. All for want of this man. I run my hands over the solid weight of him.I remember this.How he likes it.
A memory of a cute log cabin.He’d brought my hand to his mouth, first kissing the pulse at my wrist, then his tongue tickled between my fingers before he licked a stripe up my palm. He guided me back to grip his cock. He’d wrapped my fingers around him, covering my hand and teaching me the rhythm and tightness he preferred. “That’s it. Just like that. You’re killing me.”
“This doesn’t count,” I panted as he slid my panties to the side and explored. “No penetration.”
“Whatever you say.” He pressed his thumb into my mouth. “Suck.”
I did, then he found my clit with that digit, and . . . Later, his tongue, then, in the murky darkness, under an ivory wedding ring quilt, and lit only by the open bathroom door, he came down on top of me, the two of us naked. I tasted the salt of his skin, clawed at the smooth muscular planes of his back, bucked beneath his weight, tried to guide him inside, but he kept his word and did nothing more than glide against me.
“You said no penetration,” he protested in a strangled tone.
“I changed my mind. Give me a little.”
“Are you seriously asking me for just the tip?” He sounded like he was in pain.
“Yes. Dammit, yes.”
“We’re not eighteen-year-old Mormon virgins,” he choked.
“Pretend we are.”
“You hate me. You really do.”
No.I loved him. So much that I—
