“So does your pussy,” he agrees. Then he chuckles lightly. “Never thought I’d ever utterthosewords.”
I giggle, resting my hands on his pecs. Riding himdefinitelyfeels foreign. Sitting on my husband’s dick is something Ineverwould have envisioned. I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, however. I milk this experience for all it’s worth, bobbing mercilessly up-and-down.
Without any prompting, one of Marcus’ hands slips between us, and he nails finding my clit on the first try. He presses in, swirling the pad of his thumb on it in the most sinfully divine manner. I have no words, no warning I can give him, because my orgasm hits so abruptly, I’m left just crying out jumbled nonsense.
I can feel my inner walls needily clenching around his girth as I ride out wave after wave of my release, shuddering on top of him. He grunts just once, thrusting up into me, and suddenly, I feel his cock thicken and start pulsing inside my core. Warmth blooms hot from within, and I’m left spellbound by this entirely new sensation of fullness.
Ecstasy.
Nirvana.
Empowerment.
“I’m coming,” he pants. “Fuck, babe, I’m coming inside you. Sweet jeezus, Lo, you feel so fuckin’ good.”
Without even thinking, I grasp the fabric of his dress, clasping the silky fabric in my sweaty palms, and pull myself down to kiss him. Hard and hungry. One of his hands comes around to cup the back of my head, the other rests firmly on my hip. He pulls me in closer and kisses me back with just as much fervor.
Marcus gives and gives, without being aware of just how much he’sactuallygiven me tonight. I’ve been handed an opportunity to see myself as someone who isn’t too broken to be fixed. I didn’t panic. I wasn’t triggered. I was, and still am, cherished, I realize, as he continues to hold me and kiss me as if I’m someone precious. As if his last breath is contingent on providing me this post-orgasmic continuation of intimacy.
When we finally break apart to catch our breaths, his eyes search mine—wild and wondering. His pupils nearly blot out any traces of his hazel irises. “Are you going to let me take care of you this time? Canyou just lay here and bask in this while I go get something to clean us up with?” he asks.
I nod, grateful that he doesn't appear to want to emotionally dissect the shit out of what just happened right now. I simply don't have the energy to tackle it all tonight. Right now, I'll more than happily allow him this big gift of aftercare he so desperately craves giving me.
He playfully taps the tip of my nose. "That’s my good girl.”
I chuckle. “Shut up, asshole. You know you like being called a good boy.”
He smirks. “You’re delusional."
“I am not!” I quarrel, rolling over so I can lay on my back. When I do, I pluck a scrap of lacy fabric out from underneath me. “Is this one of your new thongs?” I ask, holding it up to inspect it.
“Yeah.”
“S’cute,” I tell him.
“You didn’t even let me show it off to you before you ripped it off me. Heathen,” he teases before padding out to our bathroom.
“You took your own underwear off!” I call out to him.
“Again… delulu!”
After cleaning up, Marcus slides back into bed next to me, hauling me back into his side and letting me nuzzle back into him. “Alright, ma’am,” he says with a yawn. “No more funny business. I need to getsomesleep, at least. These early mornings are going to take some getting used to.”
I snort. “Thank you, Marco.”
I feel his lips graze the top of my head. “I love you, Polo.”
Chapter Eleven
I’m ready and waiting—sort of like an expectant puppy on the promise of a treat—for Caleb when he pulls in the drive to pick me up. I don’t want to wake Lauren or Brody by making a bunch of noise, so I slip out as quietly as I can. For a big dude like me, it’s hard to go extremely stealth-mode, but I’d like to think that I wore Lauren out enough last night that she slept through my banging around in our closet.
Caleb and I have been at this job for a couple of weeks now, and I can honestly say… I truly enjoy this one. The hours, while shitty trying to get the hang of, actually have me back in time to go pick Brody up from his day camp without having to try to coordinate places for him to hang out until either Lauren or I get out of work. Bucco points for paying better as well, though the pay largely fluctuates based on the size of the load we bring back.
Right now, things are going really well—for both the lobsteringandfor Lo and I.
I fold myself into Caleb’s cramped car and pass him his promised coffee. “Thanks,” he signs to me after plopping it into his cupholder.
“You’re welcome.”
