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"You were saying?" I smirk.
She tries to look angry but spoils it with another gasp when I slide my fingers between her butt cheeks and finger the puckered bud there.
"That is so filthy. It shouldn’t feel good—"
"But it does," I say with satisfaction.
"It does. And when you fill me up from both the front and the back, the sensation is too much."
I slide my finger past the ring of her sphincter, and her entire body jolts.
"Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod."
I laugh, then shove another finger inside her back channel.
"Liam!" she yells, then gasps loudly. I let her adjust to the intrusion as quivers tremble down her spine.
"What were you saying before I interrupted you earlier?" I chuckle.
"That you’re an asshole."
"Whose fingers are in your arsehole."
She laughs, and that makes her clamp down on both my dick and my fingers. I gasp, and so does she. "You’re filling me, Liam. You’re stretching me. You’re so deep inside me, it feels like you’re consuming me."
"Good. I’m going to make it my life’s ambition to fuck you every opportunity I get. That way, you’ll be so high on endorphins, you won’t have the chance to get stressed again." I piston my hips up and into her with such force that water spills over the side of the tub.
She moans loudly, and the sound goes straight to my head.
"Baby?"
"Hmm?"
"Hold onto me."
Her eyelids flicker, but she digs her fingertips deeper into my skin. The sensations ricochet down my spine, straight to my cock, and my shaft thickens even more.
"Eyes on me," I order.
She fixes those blue eyes, heavy with lust, on me, and I thrust up and into her again and again. I curl my fingers inside her as I power up into her. I feel the moisture bathe my cock, see her open her mouth, sense the climax sweeping up her spine, and then she shatters. I hold her gaze and follow her over the edge. I empty myself inside her with such power, it feels like my life force is melding with hers. I stay still as the aftershocks ripple through both of us. Then she slumps against me. I fold her in my arms, the beating of her heart as frantic as mine, in tandem with mine. My woman. My LadyBird. My wife. Mine.
Later, after we’ve dried off and made love again, this time on our bed, I slip on a bathrobe, slide her arms through another, then carry her down to the kitchen, where I heat the spicy veggie pie Malory has left to warm in the oven.
Seated across from her at one of the stools at the island, I feed her a mouthful, then hold up a glass of wine so she can take a sip from it.
"I can eat and drink on my own," she laughs.
"Indulge me." I feed her another mouthful.
"Only if I can feed you." She holds up a forkful, and I draw it into my mouth.
When we’ve both eaten, I carry her into the study. I build the fire and make sure she’s comfortable and settled with another glass of wine. I leave, returning shortly with her Kindle and phone. I hand them both to her, sit down on the sofa, and pull her against me before settling a blanket over her legs.
"Are you warm enough?"
She nods and snuggles in. "Thanks for bringing me my Kindle."
"Now, you can read more of your smutty books." I smirk.
