Page 27 of Silver Foxed

A breeding kink.

My cock hardens in my shorts, and I let my eyes drift to the space between her legs as she wraps the sandwiches she’s made in parchment paper as if she stepped out of a homemaker magazine.

The idea of my cum still inside her as she works, the fantasy that she could be pregnant with my child is…sexy, to say the least. During my search, I also did a deep dive into a couple of online forums to see how I could make this little role play of ours even more exciting for her. I hope I have the balls to do it when we’re intimate again. And boy, do I plan on being very intimate with her, as many times as she’ll allow me to before the end of tomorrow.

My gut twists at the thought of leaving, but I quickly shake it away. I have limited time with Alex, so I’m going to make the most of it.

“What kind of chips do you like?” she asks as she makes her way to the pantry.

My eyes drift to her ass, and I picture how it looks under her dress. The string bikini I know she has on underneath leaves little to the imagination, just like her thong did yesterday.

She turns her head over her shoulder when I don’t answer and shoots me a knowing look. Busted. I smile lopsidedly. “Any kind. You pick.”

She grabs a bag and holds it up. “Can’t go wrong with plain kettle chips.” Then she walks back over and places them in the basket. When she’s satisfied we have everything we need, she closes the wicker top. “Ready to go get our beach on?”

I chuckle. “If we must.”

Her lip curls, and she moves to stand behind me, looping her arms around my waist. When her lips kiss my shoulder, I lean back into her, absorbing her warmth and soaking in her presence.

“If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. Or I can go myself and meet you back here later. I don’t mind.”

I grab her arm and shift us so we’re facing each other, our bodies pressed together with her arms locked behind my neck. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t go with my wife to the beach?”

A lovely pink flush appears between the valley of her breasts then crawls up her neck till her freckled cheeks are pink.

“I’m going with you, Alex. Plus, if I don’t go, who will rub you down with sunscreen?” I waggle my eyebrows. Her sexy laugh floats around us, and I pull her close, our noses bumping. “I’ll be fine at the beach for a couple of hours. Especially since I’ll be with you.”

Alex’s eyes soften, and she pecks me on the lips. When she goes to pull away, I tug her back, kissing her longer. When my hand starts to find its way up her dress, she darts out of my arms before I can catch her.

“If we don’t leave now, we’ll miss the warmest part of the day.”

I want to say that I’ll keep her warm. Instead, I stand, grabbing my messenger bag at my feet along with the beach bag she filled with towels and sunscreen—plus a little something special I slipped in.

Alex looks at my messenger bag and lifts an eyebrow in question. “I said bring a book or something, not your work bag.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. She sounded so much like Oliver for a second. “It’s not work.” She crosses her arms over her ample chest, and I chuckle at how serious she looks. “It’s not, I promise. It is my computer, but I’m bringing it in case I’m inspired to write.”

The hard line of her lips softens, and then her green eyes shine. “You’re a writer?”

I shake my head. “I wouldn’t say that. I write copy for work, but I’ve always wanted to write a book. Another thing I thought I’d try in this new phase of my life.”

“What kind of books do you want to write?”

“Thrillers.”

She pulls the picnic basket off the counter, her smile as bright as the sun. “You know, I can see that.”

Alex starts to walk toward the back door, and I follow dutifully. “Really?”

She studies my face as I pull the beach bag up on my shoulder so I can open the sliding door for her. “You’re an intellectual, seeking adventure in your life, and you’re curious. I can totally see it.”

Her analysis of my personality stuns me for a second. “I suppose you’ve hit the nail on the head.”

She smiles, and I place a hand on the small of her back as we walk into the nice, sunny day. “I won’t lie, I’m not really a thriller person, but I would read the shit out of your book.”

“Because you’re my wife?” I tease.

Her smile shines brighter as she grabs my free hand and kisses my cheek. “Even if I wasn’t”—she gives me a playful wink—“I would because I want to. Because you wrote it.”

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