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Whatever skill it took, I did not have it.
For all of Neri’s nudges and knowings, she didn’t have the necessary sight.
We were both as blind as the other as I woke her up on her twentieth birthday with my mouth on hers and my hand slipping between her silky thighs.
I had an itinerary planned for today.
Three things I wanted to do to celebrate the twenty incredible years my wife had been alive. I’d been lucky enough to share eight of those years and planned on sharing a thousand more.
Starting with today.
What a shame I didn’t have a fucking clue that those three things were the only things standing between me and death. Three little events that were over so fast and fleetingly, passed by in a single day and gone.
If I’d known they would be my last with Neri, I would’ve paid more attention. I would’ve hoarded every second. Clung to every moment. I would’ve imprinted every one of her breaths, recorded every sound of her laughter, and engraved her every touch upon my out-of-time heart.
I supposed it was good that I didn’t know what was coming for me.
If I had, I wouldn’t have been able to move.
Unable to breathe.
Unable to accept that our life together was over.
Dreams clung to my thoughts as I rolled closer to Neri and kissed her. My blood hummed with the crackling connection flowing between us. She moaned in her sleep as I licked her lips then parted them gently with my tongue. She shifted a little under the blankets as I inserted the tip of my finger inside her, claiming her sleep-shrouded body for my own.
She sighed as I kissed her harder all while my finger sank deeper.
Her eyes flew open and locked with mine.
Her lips quirked into a sexy smile as I kissed her softly.
Her legs fell open, unashamedly welcoming me to take whatever I wanted.
A gruff groan rumbled in my chest as I pressed a second finger inside her, stretching her, preparing her, waking her up with lust and love.
Her hands landed in my hair, tangling and tugging, bringing my mouth harder against hers. Her tongue touched mine, and I shuddered as she licked me back. Licked me slow. Licked me like she owned me.
My cock reacted.
My morning erection grew impossibly harder as I rolled on top of her, pushing her legs wider to make enough room to settle between them. Her back arched as I removed my fingers and reached between us, angling my cock at her entrance.
Our eyes locked as I found her heat and hovered on that delicious, piercingly sharp moment of mounting her.
Sex with Neri never failed to wrench open my heart and chain me to her, body and spirit. It didn’t matter if we were rough or violent, soft and silent, or barely moving in each other’s arms as we came—each time we joined, it felt as if we tangled our souls even more, knotting us together never to be undone, binding us in every way that mattered.
We didn’t speak as I pushed.
Her eyes snapped closed as I claimed her, sinking slowly, parting her wetness, notching deep. Only once I’d fed every inch of my length did I take a breath and allow the shiver of pure fucking bliss to crackle down my spine.
Moaning under her breath, she raked her fingernails down my back and grabbed my ass, pulling me into her as I rocked. We lost ourselves to the primal motion, fighting against each other to get closer, getting harder and quicker the more we lost ourselves.
The urge to come shot between my legs, but I smothered it.
I wasn’t nearly done with her.
I wanted her wet and willing, ready to writhe all over my cock as I gave my filthy wife one of her fantasies...not that I would, just yet.
She still wasn’t one hundred percent from that venomous sea slug.
The toys I bought were still in their box in the wardrobe. The night Neri got stung and I’d rushed to the hospital to find her had ensured a month of healing. The rash faded and returned multiple times over six weeks. She’d returned to the doctor to ensure her recovery was normal and had to take antihistamines daily to keep it in check. She claimed she suffered light-headedness for weeks afterward, so any thought of being rough with her flew out the fucking window.
Not that that’d stopped us from having sex. She’d pounced on me the very next day, making me pump into her while she lay resting on the couch. She’d come, flushed with fever, then snoozed the rest of the afternoon.
I’d been utterly useless, staring at her, making sure she continued breathing as day became dusk and time slowly healed her.
I’d hoped for her birthday, I could’ve let loose. That she could’ve handled what I wanted to give her. To prove to both of us that I wasn’t afraid of who I truly was. To use the toys I’d bought and the cuffs ready to bind her.
