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After three years together, Quinn still looks at me like I’m royalty, and still showers me with praise. Writes me sweet notes, stories, poems and songs. I keep trying to get him to publish his stories and poems he writes for me, but he insists they’re just for me.
And I still get the butterflies in my tummy when I look at him.
I’m tempted to reach for my phone and check on Shelby, who is a thousand miles away at field hockey camp this week. No, she’s fine, I tell myself. My little bird is spreading her wings and making friends. And when she starts her senior year at Greenbridge this fall, she’ll be team captain and the smartest little chick in the school.
Then I have a passing thought to check on my staff. Over the last three years I’ve been able to hire 14 employees and buy four lunch trucks. I’ve worked really hard, and with Quinn’s support, we’ve amassed quite a comfortable life. We’re not Rushmores and never will be, but enough that I can take a month off to achieve this dream of exploring Route 66 with the man of my dreams.
“They’re all fine,” Quinn says in his sexy, creaky morning voice. “I know what you’re thinking and they’re all fine.”
I roll to my side and look at my husband, now head of the Language Arts Department at Greenbridge Academy. He’s applying to be an adjunct professor at the community college soon. “Someday I’m going to roll over in the morning and be married to a tenured professor with a distinguished gray beard and suede elbow patches on his tweedy jacket.”
Quinn snorts. “Fuck that old fuddy duddy.”
I raise my eyebrows and sit up. “Sure will, any time, any place.”
My husband laughs and cups one of my breasts, fully waking up the lustful beast inside me that’s never fully asleep whenever he’s around. We’re both still naked from last night, and I can feel his length against my leg, growing hard once again. I slide up on top of him so I’m straddling his hips, looking down at him.
He runs his fingers along the underside of my breasts, and it sends warmth all through me, readying my body to take him. To lose myself in him. While I’m enjoying his caresses all over my bare skin, I reach up and pinch my own nipples. He hisses at the sight of it.
“I was wrong, this view is even better than a sunrise.”
All of the sensations cause heat to pool at my core.
I feel his cock twitch under me.
“Get down here and kiss me,” he growls. “Right fucking now.”
His growling and his intense, tight face tell me he’s ready for me. He’s aching for my warmth but he still wants to kiss me first. It’s sweet and so…Quinn.
I bend over and he grabs my face, pulling me in tight to devour me in wet kisses. His lips on mine alone are sometimes enough to bring me to climax.
But not this morning. I need more than kisses after marathon lovemaking last night.
The release might be the nice cherry on top, but the long, slow journey of getting lost in each other is always the best part.
Getting lost in passion, in all-night conversation, good food, wine, music and books, and enjoying life with Quinn will always be my favorite journey.
