Without waiting for me to finish, he’s already whipped off all his clothes down to his boxer briefs.
“Whew. Cause I would have probably died from overheating.” He hops back into the bed, all signs of the earlier moroseness having vanished. “Now, get over here.”
His large arms yank me over to him and tuck me into his body and immediately his warmth encases me.
“That’s better.” He says into my hair while I try not to obviously inhale his musky scent.
To me, he’s home. And I can’t absorb enough of him.
Lifting my head, I breathe against his chest. “Thanks Wendell.”
“This is what friends do.” His chest shakes with a low laugh.
“Totally.” I nod against him. “Friends. Yup.”
“We’re just a couple of friends who are married.”
“And have agreed to benefits.” I meant it as a joke, to add another puffy cloud of lightness to the air, but his body tenses beside me and I don’t want him to overthink what I just said, so I add more puffy cloud imagery. “But you know, we have nothing to worry about considering how you kiss. So it’s all good.” I pat his chest for good measure and go to roll away from him.
“Oh no, you don’t.” His arms lace more tightly around me. “You think you can get away that easily?”
Wendell can put a smile on my face like no one else can. “Ican, and I will.”
“Not if you think that’s how I kiss my wife.” His fingers find the hem of my shirt and dip underneath, an imminent tickle on its way.
“Thatishow you kiss your wife.” I taunt him with a giggle.
And then he’s hovering over me while I can do nothing but take shallow breaths.
“You want to see how I’d really kiss my wife?” His bright blue eyes dance with playfulness.
My throat clogs with anticipation, so I nod.
“Let me hear you say it, Peyton.” Our mouths nearly touch as we breathe each other in.
It’s a moment in time to decide. Everything stills around us. It’s just me and Wendell. His heavy body lingering over mine, a preview of what could happen. My eyes move from his handsome face to the chest muscles flexed as he holds up his weight. Over to his biceps that I ache to touch. Down his abs that I would love to lick. I’d especially like to follow his happy trail.
“Kiss your wife, Wendell.”
And then all heaven breaks loose because Wendell’s mouth slants over mine. An immediate hunger overpowers me. He slicks his tongue into me, desperate. Me. Him. Without warning, there’s an impatience enveloping us. His hands eager to feel every part of me. Seeking more and more contact. Exploring. Massaging. Grasping. Claiming. His sounds while he possesses me have me arching off the bed.
When my pussy makes contact with his hard length, I whimper. I need this man more than I need my next breath.
His lips trail down my neck, sucking. Nipping at my jaw. Mumbling to me, “Finally.” I want to give him more and scramble to drag my shirt up. It bunches up by my neck, cutting him off and forcing him to pay attention to my breasts. The nipples standing up shouting at him to shower them. Which he does.
And fuck, he does it so well.
I’m the one pushing us. Driving us. I’m the one sliding my panties off and dragging his boxers down his thick, muscular thighs. I’m the one yanking him back to meet my mouth so I can moan into him. I’m the one rolling my hips into his long, hard, dick.
“You want this, Peyton?” His gravelly voice shoots arousal like a drug straight to my clit.
“Yes, Wendell.”
My own pulse pounds so loudly in my ears that I can hardly hear him answer me. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this so bad.”
I trust him implicitly. I know him. He would never do anything to hurt me.
“I want it,” I say hoarsely into his ear.
