Page 11 of Dearly Departed

I slide my other hand between her and the bed and tug on her wrist until it’s freed from underneath her and she curls her fingers into the blanket. Catherine lets out a contented sigh when I find her clit and fuck her with slow, shallow thrusts, relishing the perfect wet slide of her cunt around my cock.

“Jesus, you’re sweet,” I tell her, and she makes a pleased little noise and rocks into my fingers at her clit, then back onto the pad of my thumb. “You feel so lovely here. Did you know?”

“No,” she breathes.

“You do.”

Teasing her asshole and fucking into her gently—it’s our wedding night—is an exercise in coordination, and thank God, because I need all my focus to be on her. I don’t want to think about the miles of darkness between us and the unforgiving ground. Or ocean, I suppose, though the water wouldn’t be any more forgiving than asphalt.

Catherine melts in my hands, the furl of her asshole giving up its nervous tension. Everything about her is a marvel, but the way she tiptoes into opening up is a miracle. Given her past, given her life, I wouldn’t be surprised if she refused all pleasure and all risk.

Not with me.

She does this for me.

With me.

Maybe it would be better if she didn’t trust me. Maybe it would be better if she hated me.

She wouldn’t be here if she hated me, and I find even the thought intolerable.

Catherine makes an impatient noise when I lift the pad of my thumb from her hole. I only make her wait a few seconds before I’m back with a lube-covered finger at her entrance.

“Breathe out,” I tell her. “Push against me.” She does, and my finger slides into her hole to the first knuckle. I have to dedicate part of my attention to my own breathing. It would be too easy to pass out from the heat of her pussy and her grip on my knuckle. “That’s it. That’s it, kitten. Push⁠—”

My finger slides in farther, and Catherine pants, trembling from head to toe, but she hums like she’s reassuring herself and relaxes again.

“I’m sorry I waited so long to do this. You’re so—relax, kitten. Yes. Another deep breath. You’re taking my finger so well. I’m going to give you another one. Slow, slow…there. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you. And I should have⁠—””

Catherine lifts her head from the pillow, changing the gorgeous curved line of her back, and turns her head for a kiss. She shouldn’t be the one convincing me that everything’s going to be fine, but that’s what her mouth does to me.

The low oh oh oh that escapes her when I have two fingers inside her as far as they’ll go does to me.

I fuck her even slower and drop kisses to her nape. I’d started to pull out, and nothing in the world is better than pressing in.

For a minute, I manage to lose myself in the rock of her body against mine and her heat. She’s hot as a furnace now, everywhere I’m inside her, and it’s delicious.

The sensation collides with the knowledge that the end is coming, and it’s coming fast. It’s like being dropped into cold water. Ironic, because we’re more likely to burn if we don’t bleed out first. There’s plenty of time to be aware of what’s happening while a plane plummets to earth and bursts into a fireball.

I am not thinking about the crash, or the shot, or whatever is going to end us.

I’m concentrating on Catherine. My mind keeps trying to throw itself out of the plane and into whatever’s next—the ocean, the ground, a fireball—but the rest of my body only wants my wife.

“Please, Jacob. Please.” She circles her hips, clenching on my fingers.

I don’t know what I say to her. It’s probably all nonsense. Catherine’s breath hitches when I pull my fingers out. All my muscles tighten with the effort of leaving her, even briefly, but it’s worth the sensation of laying my cock over her crease and letting her feel it.

Catherine breathes deep. It doesn’t stop her from trembling.

“I’m right here.” I put one hand on her hip and run the pad of my thumb in an arc over her lower back while I line myself up. “It’s a different angle this way, kitten, so you⁠—”

“Let me find it.” Her hair falls over her shoulders as she arches, spreading her thighs another inch and making tiny circles of her hips until the head of my cock is firmly notched against her hole. “Okay,” she whispers to herself. “Okay.”

“More than okay. You’re doing so well. You’re—fuck.”

Catherine leans into me, and the head of my cock sinks into her. I have never experienced this level of awe. Never. I’m lightheaded watching her work herself onto me until my crown pops inside her.

“Stay there. Right there. Give yourself a minute. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you’re so good. So perfect. Get used to me.”