Dear Future Ex-wife

Threading my fingers through her hair, I slip my tongue into her mouth, desperate for more of her. She grips the back of my neck, crushing me into a deep kiss that I wish would last forever. Each flick of our tongues is more intense, more impatient. We claw at each other’s clothing, all hands and tongues doing the talking for once. I slide my hand up her stomach and over her breasts, feeling her hard nipples over the fabric of her dress.

“Nate,” she whispers against my lips. “Please. Touch me. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Calm down, my Queen. I am touching you.” I shove down the front of her dress, exposing her bare breasts to roll my thumb over her nipple. “Pretty soon, you’ll know how it feels for me to touch you everywhere. Every surface of your beautiful body.”

“Jesus, Nate,” she groans.

I massage her breast, pinching her nipple between my fingers as I leave a trail of kisses along her jaw. My slow exploration of her body rewards me with an impatient Harley, who looks even more possessed than before. She whimpers as if she’s in physical pain when I suck her nipple into my mouth, taking her flesh between my teeth. Taking my time, I give equal love to each of her tits. She bucks her hips every time I flick, suck, or bite her nipples.

“Please, Nate,” she cries.

Her moans eventually turn into screams, and before I know it, she’s riding out an orgasm. Chasing a high as I make her come with the tiny bud shoved between my lips. I smile up at her, satisfied with the dreamy look on her face.

“That was a first,” she breathes.

Harley stares up at the ceiling like I just fucked her against the door. She’s panting, with her hand covering her heart, sucking in deep breaths. Caging her body with mine, I press my palm to the wood above her head and taste her. Sucking her bottom lip into my mouth, I tug on it. Hard. And she moans in response.

Harley must be sick of waiting, tired of my control. I could go on all night like this. After waiting years to touch her, years to feel her lose control at my hands, I want to savor every second with her. Harley grips my wrist, dragging my hand from her hip to the front of her dress. She does the work for me, sliding my hand beneath the fabric as she bunches it up around her hips.

“Here, I thought you were a good girl, Queen.” I cup her sex over her lacy panties, and a flush of heat spreads from her cheeks to her chest. “Looks like I was wrong about you. Because I think my good girl wants to do very bad things.”

Our eyes meet, and she pleads without words for me to peel the thin fabric to the side. Adrenaline courses through my body, my heart beating so fast I can hardly catch my breath. A light patch of hair covers her smooth skin, and I like that she’s not waxed. Everything about Harley is natural.

“Please, Nate,” she begs once more. “I might be a good girl, but right now, I want to be bad. So fucking bad.”

“Fuck, Harley.” I rest my forehead against hers and push a finger inside her.

Her eyes slam shut as I slide my finger in and out of her wetness, so painfully slow her body trembles.

“You’re so wet. So fucking tight. Fuck,” I groan, adding another finger. “You feel so much better than I imagined, Harley.”

“Did you think of me often?”

“Yes,” I say against her lips before slipping my tongue into her mouth.

“How often,” she whispers.

“Every time I’ve come for the last twelve years.”

Her eyes widen, and not because of the third finger that’s now stretching her out. “Twelve years?” She can barely get out the words, her pussy milking my fingers. “You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t joke about pussy,” I say with laughter in my tone. “And I would never joke about your pussy.”

Harley chuckles, her eyes closed and sweat dotting her forehead. She leans forward and buries her face against my neck, gripping my arms for support.

Moving faster, I slam my fingers into her, my thumb rolling over her clit. “Why do you think all of the girls before you were blonde?”

Harley moans, her eyes now wide open and staring at me in shock. How could she not know? Everyone else guessed that the women were just replacements for the real thing. And now that I have her, I could never go back.

Her entire body tightens and shakes, and I mold her chest to mine, kissing her again as she comes on my fingers. Out of breath, Harley lifts her head. Our eyes meet, and when I know I have her undivided attention, I slide my fingers out of her pussy and bring them to my mouth to suck on them. Dammit. She tastes just as good as she smells. Much like the burnt scent of her charcoal, I want to brand this scent along with the memory into my brain.