More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

Where the hell should I take her? The bedroom, across the unit, seems miles too far away.

Sofa it is.

Lifting Sloan against my body, I meld our mouths together. Automatically, she wraps her legs around me, wriggling dangerously as I walk the ten agonizing feet to her couch.

Once I’m there, I settle in the middle of the beige sectional. My wife braces her knees on either side of my hips. I’m thrilled as fuck the gesture spreads her legs because I’m dying to touch her.

Sucking her other nipple into my mouth, I drag my thumb across her clit a few times in swipes that demand her response. She doesn’t disappoint, both gasping and stiffening at the sensation.

“Are you wet, baby?” I can already tell the answer. But I’m dying to hear her admit that she’s soaking for me.

“Yes,” she pants out. “Damn you.”

I laugh. Sloan doesn’t cede anything easily, but knowing I get her hot makes me both fucking euphoric and frenzied.

She cuts me off with a kiss, rubbing herself against me and making me lose what little is left of my mind. With the two brain cells I can still rub together, I circle my thumb over her hard nub once more and insert a pair of fingers. She sucks in a startled breath, her pussy clamping around my digits. When I scrape that sensitive spot high inside her with my fingertips, she lets loose a low, ragged moan.

“Hurry up and get inside me.”

“I want you to come for me first.” I need her surrender. “Fuck my fingers, baby.”

“Don’t do this,” she all but cries like she’s trying to resist the pleasure…and can’t. Because she might be protesting, but that’s not stopping her from gyrating on my hand.

“Do what? Make you feel good?” I kiss my way up her neck and whisper in her ear. “It turns me on to get you off.”

“You just like wielding power over me.”

She’s right; I do. Not because I’m looking to squash her but because I know she’d never respond to me if she didn’t truly want me, too. The fact she hadn’t had sex with anyone in a decade tells me she’s a woman who doesn’t climb into just anyone’s bed to scratch an itch. Her heart has to be invested. So for the sway of her hips to be picking up speed as her cheeks get rosier while the spice of her arousal hangs more pungent in the air…yeah. I know that, as much as my wife wants to hate me, she can’t.

Yee-fucking-haw.

“Bas…” she breathes my name as her hips pick up speed. “Bas!”

“Here, baby. Always here for you,” I murmur against her neck. “You going to come?”

I ask the question, but I know the answer. I feel it in the way she struggles for each breath, her pulse pounds at her neck, and her pussy swelters as she grips my fingers.

Then her nails are in my shoulders, and she tosses her head back with a throaty groan, her pussy spasming as if trying to milk maximum pleasure from my touch.

Watching her come… Fuck, she’s the hottest, most amazing woman I’ve ever had. Sloan doesn’t merely flip my switch; she lights up everything inside me.

Because she’s the only one I’ve ever actually loved?

That’s my guess, but I’m not unpacking that while my wife is letting out a long, sated exhalation, her eyes a heavy-lidded, stunningly sexual blue.

“It’s your turn.”

Her husky voice zips straight to my weeping cock. She’s alluring. Tempting. Determined to see me lose myself to her.

Somehow, she hasn’t realized I already have.

It’s no surprise Sloan doesn’t wait for my reply, just shoves my clothing aside, takes me in hand, and raises herself over my cock, aligning my crest with her slick opening. Then she slams down my length, taking me completely inside her in one savage thrust.

Electricity lights up my body. My spine melts.

I’m in deep trouble.

Automatically, my hands find her hips, but I don’t need to guide her or urge her on. Sloan sets a blistering pace. The friction of each thrust and withdrawal has my eyes crossing. Her grip on me has my balls broiling.