Page 111 of Married to Lies

A merciless smile lit his face. “What about foreplay?”

I reached up and hit his chest, but he caught my hand, lowering it to his waist where his cock strained against his pants. “I’ve wanted to be inside you every goddamn second since I left.”

I shuddered at the need that washed over me and the force of his desire. “Me too,” I whispered.

“I’m going to make sure you’re ready for me,” he promised, lowering his head and lifting my dress until my pussy was as exposed as my breasts. He lowered his mouth to me. “Fuck, you taste good,” he groaned before continuing to tease me with his tongue like he was a starving man and I was his last meal. My eyes rolled back in my head, and it was all I could do to hold on to the back of his head while he made me see stars.

Any thought except for him quickly left my mind, and just when I thought he couldn’t possibly go any longer, make me feel any better, he sucked hard on my clit. I cried out, an orgasm exploding through me with so much force I thought I might pass out.

I shuddered with wave after wave until my entire body was spent and limp for him.

He wiped his face and then brought his lips back to mine, the taste of me still on his tongue. Holding my face in his hands, he said, “I don’t want to be away from you again. I want this, us, you for the rest of my life, Rei.”

My heart felt like it might explode with the love I felt. Not just from him, but for him. This man, my strong, silent husband, put so much effort into making me feel seen and loved.

But fear gripped my heart again too, because I didn’t know if he would still feel the same after I told him all I had to say. Before I could succumb to tears, I pulled his face closer until we were kissing again.

Slowly, softly, lovingly.

At my silent urging, he unbuttoned his pants and freed his cock. After sliding it through my folds to slick himself, he pressed the tip in. I whimpered at his size, at how good he felt as he stretched me. And then cried out against his lips as he buried himself fully inside. I adjusted to his size, rolling my hips against him.

“I love you,” he murmured against my lips.

Tears dripped from the corners of my eyes into my hair. “I love you too,” I breathed.

We stilled for a moment while I adjusted, and then he rocked slowly into me. The friction, the sense of fullness, was so amazing, I clung to him tighter with my legs. My ankles pressed into the back of his thighs, urging him on until we were a breathless, panting mess.

Each part of my body felt like a nerve on fire, a feather on the edge of a cliff just one gust from going over.

And then he said, “My wife.”

I came apart then, at the preciousness of those words and the fear that he might never say them again. My orgasm rolled through me, pushing Quentin to his own release.

He grunted out, pulsing into me like it was his life’s purpose. And then, release gave way to the rise and fall of our breaths. The room faded to silence. This time felt different, and we both knew it.

Suddenly, I had so much more to lose than ever before. I felt tears coming to my eyes, and when he noticed them, he kissed them away. “I know, baby,” he said, being so damn tender with me it nearly broke my heart. “I felt it too.”

When I finally stopped crying, he said, “It’s been a long day. Why don’t you take a shower, and I’ll order us some food.”

“But we need to talk,” I managed.

He kissed my forehead. “Shower first, then we’ll talk.”

I nodded, adjusting my dress as I rose on shaky legs.

“You know where the bathroom is?” he asked.

“I do,” I said. I hadn’t spent too much time here because it felt wrong before we had the kind of talk we needed to. I’d only been inside long enough to set my overnight bag in the closet on the off chance I got to stay.

I went upstairs and bathed under the rain shower long enough for all the glass to steam up, wondering how Quentin would respond to the news. Wondering what life could be like if he forgave me. Would we wake up beside each other each morning? Shower together after making love? Play in the pool outside and share meals at the table downstairs?

A million little possibilities fluttered through my mind despite the torrential rainstorm of my worries trying to pelt them down.

A loud knock sounded on the door, and I jumped. “Quentin? After all we just did, I think knocking is unnecessary,” I called out.

I expected his chuckle, the one he saved just for me, but his voice was somber as he spoke through the door. “Bryce and Jada are here, and our phones are ringing off the hook. We need to talk. Now.”

53 Quentin