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“Say it.”
“I want my husband’s cock. I want you.”
“Fuck.” He pushes his hips forward and doesn’t stop until he’s all the way in. His eyes are squeezed closed, and his jaw is clenched tightly.
“Legend?”
“You feel like heaven. I need a minute, or this is going to be over before we’re started.”
I lock my legs around him, holding him against me. “Take me,” I whisper.
His eyes pop open. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I do. I’m asking for you. Don’t hold back. I feel it, too, Legend.” I place my hand over his heart and can feel its heavy beat. “We’ve had weeks of foreplay. We both need this. Take me.”
“Hold on to me.”
I do as he asks. I slide my hands beneath his arms and grip his back. As soon as he feels my grip, he pulls out and slams back in. I dig my nails deeper into his skin, lock my ankles together, and hold on for the ride. I can already feel my orgasm building.
“I’m close.” My words are breathy.
“I feel you, baby. Fuck, I’m not going to last with your pussy squeezing me like a fucking vise.”
He rocks into me, and like a tornado whipping through the sky, my orgasm crashes over me. Wave after wave of pure bliss like fire coursing through my veins. It’s the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt in my life.
“Fuck!” he roars, stilling as he loses himself to the very same pleasure. He’s breathing heavily, as am I.
I release my death grip on his back, certain I left a mark, but something tells me he’s not going to care.
He pulls out, tosses the condom into the trash can near the bed, and pulls me into his arms. His heart is racing, our skin is slick with sweat, and I’m the most content I’ve ever been. He holds me like I’m precious, which is how I always feel when I’m with him.
Eventually, we both catch our breath, and I can’t help but ask, “When can we do that again?”
He chuckles and holds me a little tighter.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Legend
My wife is a fucking smokeshow. Seriously, I can’t take my eyes off her. We’re all at Forrest’s place for New Year’s Eve. She and Emerson, pregnant belly and all, are dancing in the middle of the living room. They’re wearing silk pajama pants, and long-sleeved shirts. Apparently, Emerson wasn’t feeling like dressing up, and since we were staying in, my wife decided it was a pajama party.
Before you ask, yes, that means all of us. There isn’t a single thing on this earth that Roman and I would say no to when it comes to our wives. The same goes for Forrest, Maddox and Lachlan. Well, they can’t say no to them either. Basically, we’re a bunch of tatted-up, muscled pushovers when it comes to the women in our lives.
The pajamas aren’t sexy, but my wife could make a feed sack look good. Her hair is pulled up in a messy knot on the top of her head, and she looks like she’s ready for bed. Maybe that’s my turn-on. I know at bedtime, I get her in my arms, and more nights than not, we scratch our mutual itch. The same one we scratched on our honeymoon and have yet to discuss. We’re both avoiding it, but I know eventually, we’re going to have to talk about it.
“How’s married life?” Roman asks.
I’ve been standing here, propped against the wall, watching the women like some kind of creeper, but I can’t seem to help myself. I want to be where she is. “Can’t complain. You?”
“Fucking fantastic. Can you believe I’m going to be a dad?”
I clap my hand on his shoulder. “A damn good one too. When are you finally going to tell us what you’re having?”
“We told my parents and Forrest earlier today.”
I don’t take offense. Forrest is Emerson’s brother and her only family, since their parents are pieces of shit. “So, spill the details.”
