Her Reluctant Wife: A Lesbian Age Gap Romance

You might not, but we’ll always know that it happened.

We’ll always feel what we felt. I’ll always want to feel that

again. I want you, Coralyn Anderson. I want to know you. I

want to take you apart.

That was the truth, even if it was fucked. Coralyn embodied

something that called out to the instinctual part of Giana.

Instead of mulling over her rage, turning it around to use it as

vengeance, she’d been ruminating on a pair of summer blue

eyes, a body made for sin, and a mouth that begged to be

kissed.

I want to break you down and find out what’s at your center.

I want to figure you out. I want to figure out why I can’t stop

thinking about you. Why I dream about you. Why that time

with you was the only time in the past twenty years that I’ve

felt anything worth feeling at all.

She wanted, more than anything, what she’d felt after she’d

brought Coralyn to orgasm. She wanted her to look at her that

way again, where, for just that moment, she’d been given

everything. It had been brought on by the height of passion,

but it was real. Giana had brought lots of women to orgasm

before.

None of them had ever looked at her like that.

You were nice. You were vulnerable. Coralyn had said that.

What she’d really meant was that Giana had been free. And

now she was locked in chains again, and the worst part was

that she was no longer content to be that way. She hadn’t quite

returned to her former state.

She wasn’t done with Coralyn Anderson, and Coralyn had

come because she wasn’t done with her. Things were the most

fractured they’d ever been, but still, Coralyn had come here,