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My joystick.
A
smile broke free when those words tumbled through my mind. I positioned him at my opening and lowered down. The fullness was a welcomed guest, stretching me to capacity and flooding me with undeniable love and security. I stilled to enjoy the connection. My muscles clenched around him. The slight grip and release drew a low groan from powerful man, now at my mercy.
I let my hands glide along his washboard abs then started to move. Slow.
Malcolm raised his hips and pushed deeper into me. My eyes closed and we found our rhythm. An up followed by a down. An in, then an out. My hands rested on his chest. The constant thump, thump, thump beneath my touch—a steady calm that reverberated through me. Its beat timed with my shallow breaths.
Our bodies moved in harmony with instinct and determination. A secret dance of knowing what came next, of what was needed to take the other to divine bliss. Tears prickled behind my eyes from the beauty of our connection. It was more than “just sex,” and in this moment, the words he spoke on his birthday slammed into me. Our every time together was special. Perfection.
I braced my hands on his stomach and rolled my hips. Malcolm’s arms tensed and I heard a soft creak of the bed under the strain from the fabric he tugged. That glorious building started. Electric currents radiated under my skin with awareness. Each pump into my body pushed me closer. I rode him harder, faster, in desperation to reach the euphoric drop. A deep grunt in time with a forceful thrust upward told me my husband had met his end. My nails dug into his flesh as I squeezed my thighs, racing to join him in the glorious moment of release. To withhold nothing, to hand over all that I was to the man beneath me. My head fell back, and a scream ripped free when my orgasm roared through me.
Breathing heavy and totally spent, I tumbled to the side. I fought back the tears burning behind my eyes. With shaking hands, I hastily released his arms, desperate to have them around me. As if he could sense my need, the moment they were free I found myself wrapped in his loving embrace. We were both quiet for a moment while we came down from our post-coital highs. My head rested against his chest, and I again let the rhythmic beating of his heart act as the soothing balm to my raw emotions.
He kissed my forehead and whispered. “I love you.”
I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled my body closer to his. My security. My oasis.
“Love you more.”
10
Belated Gift
Malcolm
The delicious scent of beef stroganoff welcomed me soon as I opened the door. It was the last thing I’d expected after talking to Ginger while I was gone and hearing that she’d been sick. The news left me anxious since I had been unable to cut the trip short. Bigwigs from our international office were in town so I’d been forced to stay the whole week.
Her assurances that it was no big deal and that her mother was helping out with Shawn did little to ease my mind. Crazy as it sounded, her being sick—or even mildly uncomfortable—sent my overprotective side into high gear. Logically, I knew it happened, and it was out of my control, but it didn’t change the fact I’d wanted to be home to take care of her. It was my job.
To find her up and cooking dinner—my favorite dinner from the smell of things—was surprising to say the least. Her face lit up when she saw me. The look alone was an amazing welcome home. Rocking a pair of leggings and one of my sweatshirts, she was a stunning sight for sore eyes. Her complexion a little paler than usual, coupled with barely there dark circles under her eyes, otherwise she looked like her normal, happy and healthy self. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of there being something more.
I strolled over and let my hand slide along her back as I leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Hey, baby. Missed you. How you feeling?”
“Better.”
I scanned the area. Plates were on the counter ready to be filled, next to a tossed salad in a wooden bowl. I blinked at the sight of the pecan pie sitting atop the cooling rack.
“Um, Ginger, what’s all this?”
I didn’t want to go to worst-case scenario, but this screamed of a “butter-up” attempt. My gaze quickly darted over to the TV, not broken. My gaming headphones were up high and out of reach of tiny hands. Speaking of—I looked around and didn’t see him anywhere.
The high ponytail she wore whipped to the side when she snapped her head and looked at me with a frown. “It’s called dinner.”
A quick chuckle and nod to the obvious as I turned to rest back against the island and folded my arms across my chest. “I can see that, I’m just wondering why you’ve pulled out all the stops. Especially if you’re not feeling well. I don’t want to sound unappreciative of your culinary endeavor, but you should be resting. And speaking of rest, where is our bundle of energy?”
I received a quick side glance while she stirred our dinner once more then turned off the burner. “I’ve done basically nothing all week. Told you on the phone it was nothing major. People get sick, Malcolm. Even me. And he’s with Mom. Because, like you, she thinks I needed rest.”
The final part of her answer came complete with an eye roll and a bump of her hip to get me out of the way.
I threw my hands up in surrender while I took a step back. “All right. What do you want me to do?”
“Fill the glasses with ice and pull the tea from the fridge.”
I maneuvered around her to wash my hands before completing my assigned task. We enjoyed a divine meal. Well, I enjoyed, she mostly picked at hers. I filled her in on my trip, time with my parents, and the reorganization of things at the company. She listened and happily shared the big news of the week: Shawn had managed to spend almost an entire day in underwear without an accident. Progress, since that kid had been resistant to potty training.
After dinner she went off to take a bath while I did clean-up duty. The worry I’d tried to push away settled back in. She’d been moody—almost sad—each month when her period started. She played it off as PMS and such, but it felt like more.
