I cover her mouth with mine. “That’s all I ever want,” I tell her, working my way down her body, kissing her collarbone, her breasts, and her belly as I make my way to the valley between her thighs. I take a second to glance up and that’s when I see the rosy color bloom in her cheeks. “You good?” I ask.
“So good,” she answers.
Needing more contact, I suck two fingers into my mouth before dipping them between her folds. I trace the sweet seam of her, my fingers working her open as my eyes stay trained on her. I pump and thrust, loving the way her tits bounce with every movement. She’s tight and hot and wet and everything I’ve ever wanted but never thought was possible.
When her thighs begin to tremble, I know she’s close and I don’t let up. The steady rhythm sends her over the edge, and I kiss the column of her throat as she writhes on the bed, calling out my name.
I’ve never gotten a hockey nickname, and that used to bother me. I am the king of nicknames, after all. But when I hear Fallon’s voice break as she finds her release and cries out my name, there's no sweeter sound.
When her orgasm ebbs, I withdraw my fingers. They're coated and though I want to lick my damn hand clean, I paint each perfect, rosy nipple with the evidence of her desire. Her body coils tightly in response, her mouth hanging open on a gasp.
“Please,” is the only word she utters, but I know exactly what it means as I wrap my lips around the tight pink bud and suck hard. My fingers, still wet from being inside her, massage her other breast and holy fucking god, the sounds she’s making for me are otherworldly. I lap at her othernipple greedily. My cock is hard and thick and dripping with pre-cum, and I just got the best damn idea I’ve ever had.
I move up to untie her hands from the headboard, massaging her wrists and pressing kisses to her pulse points before I bend down to fuse our lips together, loving the way she looks when she tastes herself on my skin. “I want to fuck these gorgeous tits of yours. I want to come all over them.”
“Yes!” she cries, and that’s all it takes for me to straddle her, cup her beautiful breasts, and plunge my dick in between them. Between the sweat on her skin and the fact that I’m so hard I’m leaking, my dick glides between her perfect globes and it’s fucking ecstasy. We can see each other’s faces perfectly from this position and nothing is better than watching Fallon as she takes her pleasure. With her hands free, she toys with the short strands of my hair before skimming her fingers over my shoulder and back until they bracket my sides. Her nails dig into my skin, but the pain barely registers. Or it just adds to the heady sensation.
When Fallon licks her lips like she wants a taste of my cock, it’s all over. I thrust into her breasts once more before crying out and letting go. My orgasm goes on forever until we’re both so exhausted that we’re lying in a tangled heap on our mattress.
It takes another few minutes until we muster the energy to step into the shower and clean each other up. Before long, we’re tangled up in each other, the room dimly lit as we drift off to sleep.
I may be known around campus as the guy who’s always up for anything. The guy who lives life to the fullest. The guy who’s unpredictable.
And I’m still all of those things.
But I’m also the guy who loves his wife more than anything.
Epilogue
OLLIE
One week later
“Get the hell out of here,” Wagner grumbles, shooing away our teammates. Begrudgingly, they leave the kitchen, but not until after Deano has swiped a whole freaking plate of cheese and crackers. I don’t rat him out, though, because that tray of snacks will keep the guys busy for ten minutes. Well, maybe five.
And I hope to hell they appreciate all those salami roses I made.
I pour myself a glass of water before glancing back at Wagner, only to find that he’s glaring at me, too.
“What?” I ask, setting my drink down and picking up a cutting board.
“You don’t have to stay,” he answers, but then he opens the fridge and tosses me a couple of bell peppers before setting up his own cutting station and slicinga jalapeño.
“Of course I do,” I respond. I’m your sous chef. How could you pull this delicious meal off without my help?”
Wagner pins me with a glower. “It’s chili. It’s not that fucking difficult.”
“And salad, and cornbread,” I finish for him. “Face it, Sparky, you need me.”
“Call me that again and I’ll chop off your dick,” he threatens, his voice low as the knife slashes through the vegetable.
“Point taken,” I assure him, holding my hands up in surrender.
“Are Fallon and Liza eating here tonight? Or should I set plates aside in the fridge?” he asks.
“Yeah, that’s a good call. Liza picked up a shift at the restaurant, and Fallon’s mom and sister flew into town for a couple days, so she's spending time with them.” Kim and Emersyn’s trip was spur-of-the-moment, but I think it’s fair to say they all need some bonding time to heal from some serious family trauma, and I’m glad they’re getting the opportunity.
My situation isn’t nearly as complicated, but Fallon and I will get to visit with my parents when they come to stay at the cabin for Thanksgiving. My dad’s still loving the idea of the two of us working together, doing a West Coast/East Coast thing, but I haven’t fully committed. I’m waiting to see what the rest of the year brings before I decide. I have to admit, it’s kind of nice to have Louis Jablonski looking for my attention these days, instead of the other way around.