He drops a kiss on my shoulder. “I did it for us,” he corrects. “I want this to be perfect.”
Just this once. I agree with his definition of perfection. “It already is. Today was the most magical day of my life. I couldn’t picture anything differently. I’m so happy you’re my husband.” The last word is new, so I smile like an idiot when I say it.
He walks in and shuts the door. The resounding lock follows. “Yes, wife. I agree. What should we do first?” He uses his cell phone to play music through a wireless speaker. He turns it up. “Need some background noise, I think.”
My heart races. “Yes. Of course. What should we do first?”
He works the buttons on his uniform and I watch in awe. “I’ll make the plan then. It’s not the most comfortable uniform. I’ll probably get comfortable. If you don’t mind.Wife?”
I nod. Like a meek child. Him naked is my favorite sight, better than a million sunrises or sunsets from the air. Better than a cloudy sky in mid-July.
He hangs up his shirt, a careful maneuver, and unzips his pants. Tahoe meets my eyes. “Then you should probably get out of that dress. It can’t be comfortable either.” His pants fall to the floor. He’s controlling this atmosphere completely and I’m eating it up in the wildest way possible.
“It’s not. It’s absolutely horrid,” I deadpan.
He holds his dominance, but I see a hint of smile in his eyes. He grabs the collar of his white undershirt and pulls it over his head in a brusque maneuver. Running his hands through his hair he rakes my body with his gaze. “Shame. I don’t think you’ve ever worn anything that makes me want to fuck you more.”
I gulp, losing my breath. “Not even my white sundress,” I counter.
He shakes his head. “Nope. Not even close.”
“Why?” I raise my chin, and step toward him.
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Because this dress means your mine.”
“Remember that time in the diner? You sat in Shirley’s section and barely noticed me?”
That memory takes him out of character—a slight grin pulling up his lips. “That wasn’t the first time I noticed you. That was the first time I let you see me noticing you.”
“I wanted you even then. When I thought I had no right to like a man as faultless as you. Even when you hassled me the month we worked on my house. I never admitted it to myself but I was yours even then, Tahoe. A dress doesn’t make me yours,” I say, crossing to where he stands in a pair of dark boxer briefs. Slowly, I raise my left hand to his chest, right above his heart. “This makes me yours.”
His hand encircles my wrist and it’s warm, a soothing touch.
“What comes next in the plan?” I ask softly. The moonlight makes his eyes glow even bluer than they are in natural light. Every muscle is shadowed and lit in perfect harmony. “I want to touch every single part of my husband,” I admit. “Can that be part of the plan?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Turn around.”
I do, showing him my bare back and the hidden zipper the seamstress worked so tirelessly on. It’s a work of art and it honors my parents’ marriage in the best possible way. I was grateful to be able to have this from my mama on our wedding day. Tahoe kisses the middle of my back and then pauses to blow a cool breath on my spine.
My skin prickles, and I close my eyes to the sensation sliding over my whole body. He blows again on the back of my neck, and while I’m distracted by the brush of his exhale, he slides the zipper downover my backside, until the dress is released. It falls off my shoulders and turns into a billowy puddle around my feet. I inhale sharply as his fingers slice down the sides of my body, brushing the sides of my exposed breasts, and against the nip of my waist. “I like the dress on the floor even more than on your body,” he says, mouthing the words on my arm as he drags his lips from one shoulder blade to the other. “Any last words?” his voice is strained, and the sound travels down as he kneels behind me to drag my white panties down my legs.
I sigh, and look up to the ceiling to catch my breath.
He kisses, and then licks the back of my thigh right where my ass meets my leg. “I might not live through your seduction,” I say, breathing out violently. My hands are in tight fists by my sides, unable to touch him.
“You’ll live,” he whispers. He brushes the insides of my thighs with one hand, until he finally gives a gentle caress at my core—wet and waiting. At the first touch, my knees buckle and I lean forward, palms on the edge of the bed. “And you’ll be better for it. Stay still, Caroline,” Tahoe urges.
We’ve never played games like this, he’s never been this person when we mess around. “You’ve been holding out on me,” I say.
He doesn’t respond. All I hear are his sharp intakes and exhales as he rubs between my legs. When I’m about to come, because he’s a master at playing me, I feel both hands on my ass cheeks. He spreads them wide.
I gasp, but he quiets me with a hum of a noise. Intuitively, I know what’s coming next. His tongue is lapping at me and while the rest of my body is as cool as the night air, everything below my waist is fire, lighting up with each stroke of his tongue, or suck of his lips.
I call out in a muffled scream and can’t stay upright another second, my stomach collapsing on the bed.
Tahoe wipes his mouth on my right ass cheek, and then growls, “Not yet. I’ve waited too long for this.”
“Why don’t you just stick it in and then we can reset?” I say, flipping on the bed keeping my knees open to give him a view of which I speak. “Let me come at least a few times first. You’re so good at it,” I plead. “Husband,” I add. “I won’t suck your cock or anything. Only sex for Monty tonight. Okay?”
