Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“We’ll figure it out after my trip with Eliza. Just know that we’re in this together, and we’ll work it out like we’ve worked out everything. Let’s just have fun tonight. Let’s enjoy our date,” I say, then nod to the restaurant entrance.
She smiles. “You’re recreating our first date.”
“I am.”
We go inside and after we order, she asks with some concern, “You really didn’t get the place? And you’re not upset?”
I shake my head, take her hands in mine, and say, “I have everything I want right here.”
A smile. A pause. A moment I want to cherish.
Then her words: “Me too.”
When dinner ends, we head to the hotel where I booked the same room we had the night our first date was cut short. Once I open the door, Elodie acts coy and playful, tapping her chin. “Where did we ever leave off? If memory serves, I was unzipping your jeans,” she says, then her hands play with the ridge of my erection.
I shake my head. “If memory serves, you were sitting on my face.”
“No, you finished me.”
“I’ll finish you again.” I toss her over my shoulder and take her to the bed.
This time I undress my wife all the way.
This time when I lay her down on the white duvet, naked and resplendent, I place my hand on her neck, curling it over the creamy skin of her delicate throat, feeling her pulse beat beneath my palm.
For me. With me.
Her eyes are wide, flickering with excitement, passion.
Her gaze follows my hand. Then me as I stare at the metal of my ring, glinting against her skin. This is where the gold band belongs.
I run my hand down her flushed chest.
Every breath she takes is shaky, excited. “Are you staring at your ring as you touch me?” She sounds enchanted.
I nod, enthralled by her, owning every second of this new kink of mine. “I am…wife.”
A tremble runs through her entire body as she watches my palm coasting over her breasts, then down her belly. She shivers under me, her smile burning off. “Keep going…husband.”
I move lower, settle between her thighs, spread those beautiful legs apart, and gaze once more at the ring on my hand as I touch her soft flesh. “This ring means you’re mine,” I say.
“All yours.” Then her head falls back against the pillow, her hips arch up against my face, and I kiss her. It’s a recreation of our first date, but really, it’s a whole new first date as I savor the taste of my wife on my tongue, my lips, my face. She gives herself over to me, gasping, clawing at the sheets then coming apart on my mouth with a needy cry, my name a filthy prayer.
I’m undressing as she shakes off the fog of her orgasm, sitting up, reaching for my pants to undo them. “My turn,” she says like she did that night.
I shake my head.
She pouts. “Why not?”
“Baby, I need to be inside you. I need to feel you.”
I step away from the bed, shed my pants and boxer briefs. My cock springs free, eager, hungry for her.
I climb over her and she pulls me close. For several mind-numbing seconds we kiss like that, naked, skin hot, mouths finding each other. Saying nothing out loud but saying everything with our bodies and our lips. Until I can’t take another minute. I break the kiss. “Need you,” I say.
“Have me.”
It’s a wonder I’ve waited this long to tell her how I feel. And as I sink inside, I know. I just know. She is the rest of my life and it starts tonight.
42
ALL OUR ANYTIMES
Gage
The annual trip that Eliza and I take to Darling Springs is one of my favorite things. We’ve been doing it for ten years—since it was just her and me. Since before she could remember.
I look forward to it every year.
I’m in the garage on Wednesday morning, tossing an overnight bag in the trunk for our one-night stay at The Ladybug Inn there when Eliza trudges out after me, sighing heavily. I’m still on cloud nine after last night and probably will be for the rest of my life, but it’s dad time now.
My kid looks less than excited. As she drops a backpack in the back seat, she shoots me a slightly accusatory look—in the way that only an eleven-year-old can—and says, “Why aren’t we taking them?”
I squeeze her little biceps. “Amanda has school. Then she has ceramics class. You know how important that is to her. Especially now.”
She heaves the deepest sigh in the world.
“Buck up, buttercup. You’ll survive.”
“What if we wait?”
I lift an eyebrow in question. “But we always take the trip this day,” I say, confused. I thought she looked forward to our daddy-daughter trip too.
“Yeah we always did,” she says, emphasis on the past tense. “We always took the trip the day after I got out of school.”