“You were trying so hard to hold back your excitement, and let me lead.” I stroke my length and milk pre-cum from the tip, modeling what I did then.
He licks his lips, probably subconsciously, and I gather my pre-cum on my fingers and serve it to him. Wordlessly, he sucks my fingers into his mouth, and hums. My mouth salivates at the eroticism of it.
“I stroked you twice, Mr. Morrissey.” I lift two fingers. “Twice. And you came so explosively I think I actually jumped.”
He grins, wide and easy. “I don’t remember that.”
“No, I’m serious. Why do you think it took me a week to work up the nerve to ask if I could blow you? I was afraid cum would shoot out of my nose. But you made me feel like a king, like you really wanted me as much as I wanted you.”
“I did.”
I smile. “Remember the first time you topped me? I was so nervous, but you made me feel safe. You did all that research on how to prep, and somehow—I don’t know how—you made what could have been really uncomfortable, so intimate. I felt no shame, because I knew if we made a mess, you wouldn’t judge me.”
“Never.” His lust-drunk eyes turn tender. “It meant so much to me that you trusted me. I wanted to take care of you, to make it good for you.”
“You made it so good, ate my ass for what felt like an eternity, took your time stretching me, adding more and more lube, holding me in place even as I begged you to fuck me.”
“I was in awe of you, how well you took me, how tightly you wrapped around me.” Flaring his hands back toward my crack, he traces the place where we’re connected, voice low and smoldering. He takes my cock in hand and strokes me root to tip in one long, decadent pull. “How you clenched around me even tighter when I touched your cock.”
His hold on me loosens, and I take full advantage of his momentary distraction to greedily rise up his length and sink down again, moaning with ecstasy. I’m only human, and I’ve deprived us both for too long.
Morgan’s head falls back, baring his Adam’s apple. He releases a long, broken moan. There’s something so sexy about my tall, strong, masculine husband coming apart for me, melting into a puddle of depravity. He grabs a palmful of my ass, then slaps it. “I told you to stay.”
“Life’s too short out here,” I say, riding him shamelessly. “We can always go again.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Morgan
“Come here, then.”I hook my arm around the back of his neck and pull him down.
He falls forward and plants his hands beside my head, then kisses me, leading with his tongue. “I love you,” he says between kisses as he rides me slowly, savoring me, edging us both.
“I love you too,” I say, and frame his face with my hands to kiss him again.
Pleasure builds with each sway of his hips as he rides me with the fluidity of the ocean, drowning me in his sweet heat and sharp gasps.
“Thank you for coming back to me,” I whisper, my view of him blurring with tears. “I thought I lost you.” I fight to regain composure, inhaling a shaking breath futilely because the next breath I take turns into a sob. “I thought I’d never hold you, that you’d never kiss me, that you’d never tell me you loved me again, that you wouldn’t be able to.”
He brushes my hair back from my brow and looks down with blue eyes, aggrieved and guilty. “I’m so sorry.”
“No more apologies.” I haul him closer and kiss him, then flip him onto his back beneath me without breaking our connection.
Scars shimmer on his skin, reminding me of how close I cameto losing him. The only thing that soothes me is the rise and fall of his chest. I curl over him and press my cheek against his like I did when we danced on our wedding day.
“I’m here,” he whispers against the shell of my ear, stroking the back of my head. “You saved me.”
“You saved me too.” I cradle his face, watching him closely for any sign of pain, as I draw my hips back, and slide all the way forward, striking a match of pleasure between us that draws a long, guttural moan from his lungs.
I lose myself in him, tracking the flush that creeps up his chest to his cheeks the longer I bury myself in his tight heat. I race to the edge too quickly and pull out, stroking his cock lightly.
“Morgan,” he whines and reaches for me.
“I know, sweetheart. Sorry. Just a sec.” I rise onto my knees, snatch the bottle of lube, and drizzle it onto my cock, then feed more into his hole. I want to fuck him rough and deep until we both get off, and I don’t want to worry about hurting him.
Anticipating my next move, Cole hugs his knees to his chest. After more than a decade together, we’ve memorized each other’s bodies as much as the choreography. I steer my cock toward his hole, holding my breath as I push my tip past his rim, transfixed by the erotic vision of his hole swallowing my cock as I slowly sink all the way in. Cole practically levitates off the bed, back arching, tightening his lats and the muscles in his abs.
“So sexy.” I roam my palms over him as I pull back, then snap my hips forward, slamming into him.