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She laughs and punches my arm playfully.
“It’s just that I like better when you wear nothing at all to bed…”
She grinds her lower half against my groin and giggles when my cock immediately responds by jerking against her. “For the easy access?” she guesses.
I cup her chin in my palm. “No… or rather, not just for that. Although that’s certainly another valid reason. But I was thinking more of the fact that I really like to be the one that warms you up when you’re cold…”
She moves upward against me until her lips reach my bearded chin and kiss me there. “Well, that makes two of us…”
I smile down at her. “What about you? Did you find me sexy going around looking like a big furry Cheeto?”
She bursts out laughing.
I pretend to be offended. “Uh, on second thought, you’d better not answer that.”
She throws her arms around my neck, still laughing. “You did look a bit…extremewith your giant self, strapped into that orange fashion nightmare, butunsexy? Never… you could wear a glittery pink tutu, and I’d still climb you like a tree, big guy. Wanna know why?” she asks in a breathy voice that I feel down into my hardening balls.
I gulp down air, nodding; my hands lowering to her bountiful ass as I help her rock against my erection.
“Because… there’s nothing on earth that I find sexier in this world than seeing my man being a perfect daddy to our babies,” she continues, her lips hovering a breath away from mine, her eyes staring into my own.
I can no longer feel a trace of fatigue or sleepiness. I’m wide awake and totally aroused, fuzzy ridiculous sparkly onesie notwithstanding.
My mouth falls on Carina’s like we’ve been apart for months and haven’t kissed in years instead of a mere couple of hours.
I shiver at the feel of her fingers running in an upward caress from my shoulders to my nape and then winding into my hair as her tongue starts to spar with mine, and my hands run frantically up and down her body.
As fast as a match dropping in gasoline, we ignite for each other, and I feel my cock go from interested to rock-hard in moments.
How can she drives me this crazy this fast is a mystery I haven’t been able to solve in ten years.
I’m pretty sure fifty more won’t be enough to understand the depths of what I feel for her.
My wife moans into our kiss, and my erection jolts in need pressing against her soft middle. I push between her thighs, my fingers kneading her bottom.
That’s when my conscience starts to tug at my brain, pulling my thoughts from the fog of arousal misting around them. Carina is so very tired. She’s been up since five a.m. to make sure that every aspect of the party when without an hitch, and yesterday Piper had a tummy ache and was understandably very fussy, so we ended up staying up for the better part of the night with her until she finally started to feel better and dropped off to sleep.
I should cool things down and let her get some much-needed sleep.
I force my lips away from hers, ignoring my body’s protests. “Angel, maybe we shouldn’t tonight. You’re tired…”
Carina shakes her head, her legs still clenching around my waist. “Don’t even think about leaving me all hot and bothered like this, Derek. I want you… I don’t care about sleeping right now…”
She pulls my head down and recaptures my lips with her own.
“You sure?” I ask, breaking our kiss again.
“Very,” She murmurs and bites my lower lip making my cock throb fiercely and punch against the front of my boxers.
I groan into her mouth, my brain shutting down as my hands run up and down my wife’s luscious body as I try to find the buttons on the stupid onesie. She helps me along, her hands stroking my lower stomach until it caves in, fingers working the waistband of my boxers to roll them down.
We struggle with the buttons running from her neck to her midriff for far too long then I hear a series ofpopsand the noise of fabric tearing under my eager hands.
Finally, the PJs from fuzzy hell are off and pushed to the foot of the bed along with the bunched-up covers.
We laugh into our kiss and then go back to focus on our make-out session, hands working our underthings off of us.
That’s when my wife’s tongue stops circling mine, and her fervent kiss turns languid, her fingers no longer curling against my lower back, her legs becoming lax around my hips.
