His tongue slid against mine. Tasted like lime from dinner and something deeper, something only him. My hands went to his shirt, tugging it up. He helped, yanking it over his head. Skin warm under my palms. Tattoos I knew by heart now, black lines across his ribs, the small one behind his ear.
I traced it. “You’re tense.”
“Always am around them,” he murmured. “But not right now.”
He walked me backward until my legs hit the mattress. Eased me down. Knelt between my thighs.
Fingers hooked the straps of my sundress. Slid them off my shoulders. Fabric pooled at my waist. Bra next, simple cotton, nothing sexy, but his eyes darkened anyway. He cupped my breasts, thumbs brushing nipples already tight from the AC and anticipation.
“These are heavier,” he said, voice rough.
“Yeah.” I laughed softly. “Blame the kid.”
He leaned down. Took one in his mouth. Sucked slow. Tongue circling. I arched. Gasped.
“Cal…”
He switched sides. Hand sliding down my stomach, pausing to feel the bump. Palm flat. Waiting. A small kick answered. He smiled against my skin.
“Still kicking like he owns the place.”
I threaded fingers through his hair. “Your son.”
He looked up. Eyes soft in the dim light. “Maybe.”
Then lower. Dress pushed up. Underwear slid down my legs. He kissed the inside of one thigh. Then the other. Spread me open with gentle thumbs.
Tongue first, flat, slow drag from entrance to clit. I moaned. Hips lifting.
He licked circles. Steady rhythm. Then sucked gently. Two fingers slid inside, curved up. Found that spot. Rubbed while his tongue flicked faster.
My breath hitched. “Right there, don’t stop...”
He didn’t. Kept the pace perfect. Fingers pumping. Tongue relentless.
I came hard, thighs shaking, walls pulsing around his fingers, cry muffled into my own arm.
He climbed up. Kissed me deep. I tasted myself on his tongue. Salty. Sweet.
I reached for his shorts. Pushed them down. He kicked them off. Cock hard against my thigh.
I wrapped my hand around him. Stroked slow. Thumb over the tip. He groaned into my mouth.
“Inside,” I whispered.
He settled between my legs. Rubbed the head through my wetness. Teased my entrance. Pushed in slow, inch by inch, stretching me. Filling me.
We both groaned when he bottomed out.
He stayed still a moment. Forehead against mine. Breathing ragged.
“You feel so good,” he said. Voice low. Raw.
“Move.”
He did. Long, deep thrusts. Controlled at first. Then faster. Harder. Bed creaking under us. Headboard tapping the wall softly.
I wrapped my legs around his waist. Pulled him deeper.
