Page 90 of Love Wells Kept

Jackson slowly grinds his cock into me. “We’re doing exactly that tonight, Kit. I want to wake up feeling this tight pussy squeezing me.”

He’s definitely hard again—every inch pressing against my walls—and the extra lubrication from his cum has him slipping in and out with ease. Inch by goddamn inch, he feeds his cock to me. My need for him borders on desperation, and each leisurely thrust only heightens the tension crackling between us.

My hips roll of their own volition, and I breathe out an “Okay.”

“But first, I’m fucking my wife the way she deserves.”

“How’s that?”

He grips my thighs, cinching them tight around his waist. The lust-filled gaze and blown-out pupils of his, the delicious stretch, the languid stroke of him inside me—all of it coalesces into something I recognize yet can’t form words for right now.

He presses into me, folding to nudge my hair with his nose. “Like she’s loved.”

Love. That’s what it is.

The kiss that follows isn’t a loving peck. It’s desperate, ravenous, as if he needs the oxygen from my lungs to keep him alive. When we finally break apart, it’s with a frantic, gasping breath and hearts that beat in sync. Time stretches on outside us, and with his eyes locked on mine, Jackson says so much without uttering a single word. He’s my husband again.

Every slow grind of his cock forces his cum out of me, leaking down my ass and pooling on the sheets. He ruts into me, shoving his face into my neck. His bristly beard rasps my skin, followed by hot gusts of shallow, soothing breath like a balm over the sensitive spot. Curling my fingers, I drag my short nails down his back, then up to tangle in his damp hair.

I tilt my pelvis, taking him as deep as I possibly can, and he hisses against my skin. “Shit, Kate. You feel so good.”

Jackson lifts to his knees, dragging my hips to meet him with a firm grasp, bordering on painful. He drives into me, and my vision blurs. The room’s filled with crackling fire and the sloppy, wet sounds of our bodies meeting over and over and over. He fills me to the hilt, shoving my body across the sheets, then his bruising grip pulls me back to him, forcing his cock impossibly deep inside me. I want him this way. So embedded in me, I never need to worry about losing him again.

The muscles in my butt and the backs of my thighs strain, and I feel blindly overhead for the brass rungs on the headboard to grab hold of. I moan, loudly and often. When his thumb presses to my clit, a throbbing heat blooms in my clit, pussy…all over, really. I’m not sure I know what’s what anymore. I’m a fucking goner.

“That’s it—fuck, my wife is going to look so gorgeous coming on my cock.”

The dirty talk tightens my core. He could make me come with his words alone. But it’s the gravelly, undone way he calls me his wife that sends a rush of pleasure from head to toe. His words do as much as the friction of his fervid thrusts. An uneven hum wriggles free from my clenched jaw, and I twist in his lap, hand cramped around the bars of the headboard.

Sweat glistens on his forehead, his breath fast and broken. “That’s my girl. Keep squeezing my cock like that.”

As if I have any control over my body right now. My mind’s whirling like a runaway Ferris wheel, crashing into his hips and scratching at his taut arms. A sob rattles in my chest as pleasure overwhelms me, a flush of heat up through my belly and down my trembling legs.

A solitary tear trickles down past my temple. I can feel it, but holding on to his arm and pressing the other hand to the headboard to ground myself in all the intense pressure takes priority over wiping it away. With his eyes trained on my face, Jackson notices it too. I can tell by the slight twist in his features.

“So good.” An explanation for the crying. It’s so overwhelming mentally, physically, emotionally, that this is the best my brain and mouth can agree on.

After securing my legs around his waist, he leans in close, and the pump of his hips slows. The soft warmth of his tongue skims over my skin, wiping away the brackish tears, which have become a meandering rivulet since the initial one fell. His cock pulses inside me, coiling more pleasure in the spot behind my belly button.

“Please,” I whimper.

Jackson softly cradles my cheek in his hard, callused hand. His shaken voice blowing hot against my mouth. “Again? I wish I’d known before just how fucking horny my wife is for my cock.”

He pushes forward, and I writhe under him.

Breathless and wanton, I ask, “Would you have touched me in the kitchen then?”

“In the kitchen, the day you trimmed my beard…” His thumb traces my Cupid’s bow. Voice low and rough. “Hell, I would’ve put this mouth to good use when you wouldn’t stop talking in the hospital.”

That knocks the wind from me. I glance away, cheeks growing hot. Before the accident, Jackson always knew how to make me come—hard, fast, often—and he stuck with what he knew. But now there’s a new hunger, a new desire to learn me, and this dirty talk is certainly new. In a way, it feels like I’m fucking my husband while also fucking somebody new for the first time in over sixteen years, and it’s so hot it makes my head spin.

“Look at me, Kit.” Jackson tips my chin up with a hook of his finger. He’s still grinding against my pelvis in a way that’s so slow it’s excruciating. “I want to see the look in your eyes when we come together.”

He grabs hold of my hips, pulling me into him again, again, again, until we’re a pair of whimpering, moaning messes and our bellies and thighs are slick with our combined arousal. My body takes every inch, clenching desperately on the withdrawal as if trying to keep him inside.

His breathing falters, stomach clenching, and I can feel the throb of his cock inside me. Firelight picks up the gold flecks in his dark eyes, and he pins me with a hungry stare. He’s close. Knowing how easily this man is going to come for the second time tonight catapults me into an unrelenting, tumultuous wave of pleasure. I’m tumbling through the surf, unable to catch my breath. More intense than anything I’ve experienced.

The orgasm radiates out from my core, turning my entire body into a shaking mess. Even my nails lack the bite into his skin they had earlier—turning soft and sensual as they glide down his arm.