Sweet Curves – Sweet Enough to Eat

My stomach clenched when I felt his wide palms looping at my thighs, holding me against the pole before his tongue caught the beads of sweat trailing down my spine. His hands gripped my waist, holding me firmly before he stepped around the pole and I saw he’d stripped out of his clothes, his body naked and erect and so beautiful, hard and ready for me.

“I couldn’t stand to not touch you a second longer,” he husked, one of his rough palms trailing down my torso before he pinched my breast with gentle pressure, forcing a ragged sigh out of my lips.

“Suck me.” He ordered and desire trembled through me. His hands wrapped at my waist, holding me securely before his mouth covered my damp seam and he licked, and through the fabric of my underwear, I felt every warm stroke of his tongue.

Shudders of pleasure roared through me, my body betraying me as lust flooded me. I would do anything for this man, and I had no doubt he would for me, he’d told me as much over and over.

“Open your lips, sweet cheeks.” The tip of him was bobbing at my lips, his tip leaking and making me desperate to feel him at the back of my throat. I loved tasting him, the feeling of him filling me, the moment when I brought him so much pleasure his body tensed and contorted so deliciously.

“I took the day off to spend with you,” he mumbled against my core, “it’s been eight hours since I’ve tasted you. I’m a hungry man, Mrs. Dixon.”

My core leaked with waves of desire, the tip of him breaching my lips and making me groan with pleasure around his thick length. I edged him in deeper, feeling him fill me fully before his fingers hooked in my panties and pulled them from my body, his tongue darting in and out of me before I was trembling and he was holding me against his face as I came in soft shudders.

“Coat me in your sweetness, baby, I can’t get enough.” His voice rumbled through me, one of my hands settling at the base of his shaft as I worked him with new rhythm up and down the length.

He groaned and whispered against my clit, his words already sending new sparks flying through my already sated form.

“Baby, I can’t hold on anymore.” He grinned and I groaned around his length, eager to taste him at the back of my throat.

“Baby…”

“I want you, all of you.” I begged, licking around the mushroomed tip and watching him shudder softly when my fingertips dusted across his heavy sac. His hips jerked and my lips caught the tip of him, I hollowed my cheeks and sucked him in again, this time deep-throating him as close to the base as I could.

His thighs tensed and tightened, his muscles quaking, then before long, streams of his seed coating my throat. I swallowed it greedily, willing to take more of him, all of his pleasure would never be enough. The way his raw form rippled with thinly held control turned me on so much, some days I thought I’d lose my mind if I didn’t have him inside of me.

The six weeks postpartum had been torture, but since the doctor had cleared us for sex, we’d been making the most of it. Multiple times a day. We even had a naughty little habit of meeting at home on lunch breaks if the house was empty.

Business was booming, so was our family, and so were we.

“Love you so much, baby,” Sawyer husked, French kissing me slowly with his tongue, dragging it up my dripping seam and covering his face in my juices. I loosened my muscles and allowed myself to fall against him, and he righted me a moment later, walking me back to our bed and laying me tenderly back on the pillows. He was still hard, his thick erection bobbing between us and glistening with my arousal.

“Love you so damn much, beautiful, it hurts my heart sometimes.” He kissed up the curve of my stomach, paying special attention to drag the tip of his tongue along each of the silvery soft stretch marks that’d covered my belly since Ada was born, worse now that Jack had joined us.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, inside and out. Our kids are lucky to have you as their mother,” he eased between my thighs, nudging past my lips and sinking himself inside of me in slow measured strokes.

I groaned, slipping my fingernails down the contours of his back and causing him to speed up his thrusts.

I cried out with pleasure, desperate for more of him, always.

“I’m so lucky to call you my wife,” he kissed up my throat, landing at my lips before melding them with his. I tasted myself on him, his tongue and mine dancing together in an erotic tango that stole my breath and made my body sing with every stroke.