Page 42 of The Sweetest Thing


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I find Annie on the couch. She looks up at me and gives me a tired smile. “Thank fuck you found it,” she says as her hand flutters over her belly.

“Yeah.” I fall into the couch, exhaustion dragging itself across my body. I shut my eyes.

“Where was she?”

I don’t open my eyes. “She was hiding in a bush a few streets down, kept running off every time I got near her. Damn thing!” I put enough anger in my voice to convince myself, as Amy’s feline eyes flash behind my eyes.

“Well, you did good.” Her hand brushes over my stubbled chin, and my eyes fly open to find her close to me. “You did real good,” she coos, and her mouth latches onto mine in a sweet little kiss.

I smile at her, and she leans further into me, her mouth finding mine in soft slow kisses. My arms wind around her body, tracing her long back and gentle curves. Sliding under her shirt, my hands find hot supple skin, tracing along her body in gentle practised lines. She feels good, familiar.

My hands explore, cupping her larger, firmer breasts and tickling her skin, taking my time rediscovering my wife.

When she pulls away, my lips find the nape of her neck, and I pepper kisses along the long column of her neck while she arches for me, granting me access. Her gentle breaths become heavier with each one.

Slowly, with an exaggerated tenderness, I peel the shirt from Annie, my mouth taking

a slow journey down her body, planting kisses on her skin as I work my way up and down.

I release her from her bra and underwear and take in her body, the large plump breasts, the darkening nipples, her slightly protruding belly that carries our child.

She doesn’t protest as I push her onto the couch, laying her flat, pushing her legs open and admiring her pink glistening pussy. I kiss the inside of her thighs, fighting the urge to taste her. Tonight, I will be meticulous, considerate. Tonight, is the beginning all over again.

I hover over her pussy with my mouth and kiss the other thigh. She moans a little and I smile against her heated skin.

“Joe,” she whispers, and I know what she wants. I know everything she needs.

I slide two fingers inside her, and her gasp is sweet and expected. Just as it always is.

I dip my fingers in and out of her soaking pussy, while my mouth still teases her skin. I crawl back above her and my mouth finds her hard nipples. I suck them in, dragging them between my teeth, eliciting a lovely moan from her.

“Please, Joe,” she begs as my fingers tease and my mouth sucks. I used to love making her beg.

“Shhhhh, Annie,” I whisper against her and continue my slow ministrations. Her legs begin shaking, and her back bows. She grinds against my fingers, wanting more.

I move away and stand over her, looking down at this woman I promised to share a lifetime with.

“You look beautiful, Annie.” And she does, with her hair splayed across the couch and her cheeks tinted pink, her hard nipples and spread legs.

Her eyes follow the advance of my hands as I rip the shirt from my body and pull down my pants and boxers. Her eyes lock on my hard cock as it slaps against my stomach. She licks her lips and pushes up, and I stand there staring at her as she sits on the edge of the couch and her eyes find mine, begging to have me in her mouth.

I take a small step forward, uncertain. She’s never been one to offer without me having to beg, but there she is, reaching for my cock and wrapping her mouth around me. I groan at the warmth of her mouth as Annie sucks the tip, working the shaft with her hands. Then slowly, with each bob of her head, taking me a little deeper. I fight the urge to lace my hands through her hair, to force myself deeper into her, relinquishing my control, allowing her to take only what she can handle. She doesn’t take me deep, she never could, but her hands work me just as hard, and the sensation builds inside me. I could come in her mouth, I could coat her throat with my cum and walk away leaving her wanting, but tonight feels different.

“Stop.” I pull away from Annie. “Not like this, not tonight.” My voice feels tight and forced.

She falls back against the couch, and I find her mouth. I want to show her how grateful I am. I pull away and my mouth is by her ear. “Turn around, Annie.” It’s a strangled whisper, and I’m not sure if I’m pushing it too far, but without hesitation, she turns for me, her hands on the couch, her ass up in the air, her legs spread apart in invitation, and fuck me it is sexy as hell.

I don’t wait, she’s already given me permission. I slide inside her easily, slowly. Feeling her expand around me, she moans as I do, and my cock hardens inside her. Pulling out to the tip, I slide in again, feeling her shudder around me.

I keep pulling in and out, keeping an excruciatingly slow decadent pace, teasing us both, pushing us to the edge. Her body trembles beneath me.

“Please,” she begs again, and she’s no longer whispering. Not containing her worries.

I speed up, no longer concerned about fighting the urge. She moans for me, her face buried in the couch her ass coming up to meet each one of my strokes as skin slaps against skin. The pleasure builds inside me, and I feel her clench, her pussy sucking me in, closing around me as she lets out a broken sound. I cum hard and fast inside my wife and I am left reeling.

I collapse on top of her for a few seconds, my hands and legs growing limp around Annie who slowly sinks to her knees.

When I find my breath, I cup Annie’s face in my hands and kiss her, tenderly, passionately, like I haven’t in years. She looks at me, and there is something in her face that hasn’t been there before. I think it might be hope.

I lead her upstairs to bed and collapse into a dreamless stupor.

* * *

The sky is black when I leave for work. Annie is tucked into the bed, her naked body draped in our duvet and she pulls it over her shoulders, her body missing the heat of mine. She looks content, and I feel good. Last night I felt connected to her in a way that I haven’t for years. The underlying resentment I’d brewed for her dissipated. Somewhere in our kisses and touches was the girl I first fancied, the girl I thought I could love forever, the girl who didn’t trap me into her life with a pregnancy, but Annie, the girl from the neighbouring street with the tight ass and sweet smile and deep Yorkshire accent.

I peek in at my girls; they are sleeping safe and sound. The stupid cat lifts its head and glares at me from the end of Libby’s bed, keeping my secret. I sneak out of my home and go to work.

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