I slip my hand between us and feel him, firm and thick. I slowly run up the outline of his cock over his underwear, my mouth going dry. He’s big. I’d seen that before, vaguely registered the size. But damn, this might take work.
“Is this okay?” I ask tentatively, stroking down.
“Yes,” he growls.
“Yes, as in you like it?”
Arthur inhales. Holds it. Exhales. “Yes as in, I’m trying very hard not to fuck you.”
Oh.“You… don’t have to.”
“I know. Shit, I wouldn’t—”
“No, you don’t have to try not to. You can try. You just can.”
This close, with every light in the universe turned off except for the glowing clock, I feel Arthur realizing what I’m offering him. His body goes taut, pulled into a tight, flat need, and I really, really hope he meant what he said, that he wants to do this, because a manshutting downat the idea of being inside me might be the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
Then he’s not shut down.
Then, he’s alive.
Pulling me against him, Arthur grinds against my hand, then the sensitive skin of my belly, making me pant. He’s dizzying, throbbing and hard, and our clothes are useless to disguise it. My throat ties into a knot as he shifts apart my thighs in one quick movement and positions my split-open legs around the hard press of him. Then we’re meeting where I never dreamed we would, only fabric and time separating us.
And his voice. Of course he’s talkative in bed, too. “This? You want me here?” he says, stunningly serious.
“Yes. I—yes.”
“You want me to make you come again?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Arthur stares at me, his eyes gleaming black and white in the low light. “I’ll do it every day when you’re my wife.”
He doesn’t think before he says it. I can tell because his pupils go wide, then swing down to where my mouth opens with a shocked moan I try to muffle.
Neither of us speak for a beat. Me because, wow. Hello.Wife.Arthur because he must be waiting for me to declare this is one game I won’t play. Since that’s all this is, right? A game? He doesn’t want to marryme, specifically. It’s a kink. Foreplay.
And for once, I’m not going to be the person who always takeseverything so seriously. I can do… whatever this is. At least, I want to try.
I run my hand up the back of his neck to tease his hair. “Every day? Won’t you get bored?”
Somehow, Arthur’s pupils blow wider as he registers my question. I shift, pressing myself closer to him, and his fingers twitch over where my nipple’s pebbled against the thin fabric of my shirt. Tempted, but not quite sure.
“It’s okay,” I say. “Tell me.”
He folds. He grasps me through the fabric, new determination in every touch. “Never. I willneverget bored of you. Your mind. Your body.” He nudges his cock against the damp seam of my underwear. “Everyonewill know how well I fuck you. Your feet will never touch the ground again.”
Usually, now’s when I’d put up my own defenses—turn his words back on him and yank us out of the fantasy.Never? Seems impractical.That doesn’t feel fair, though. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it.
“You’ll carry me?” I say coyly. “But then how will you fuck me?”
“Easy. Like this.” He arches me against him by his hips alone. “And I’ll keep you full of me. Whenever you want to come, you’ll just need to ask your husband. My cock, my tongue, my fingers, anytime, anywhere.”
Howis he strong enough to talk like this while using every abdominal muscle to grind against me? I can’t find the words to ask. All my focus is on where his body meets mine. “Arthur, please.” My voice is thin. “I want it now.”
“Now?” he says, faintly surprised.
I nod, and then have to throw my head back for air as he rolls his hips into mine. “Whatever my wife wants.” A jolt of arousalpierces through me at how utterly wrecked he sounds saying those two words:my wife. “Shoulders.”
