Page 62 of The Sweet Spot

“You are fucking perfect, wife.” He thrust into me in one powerful stroke, seating himself deeper than he’s ever been before, stealing my last breath from my lungs.

He doesn’t give my aching pussy time to adjust to his size.

One strong hand grips my face, holding my mouth to his, swallowing every moan and whimper as our tongues duel for control while his fingers work my clit as he fucks me in a beautiful, brutal rhythm.

I claw at his skin with every delicious snap of his hips.

My body feels like an exposed nerve. Raw and hypersensitive. Overwhelmed.

The way his dick drags against my walls, hitting that spot inside me I never truly believed existed, over and over... I just can’t?.?.?. can’t think?.?.?. can’t breathe... can’t focus on anything but the way I feel right now as he fucks me harder. Faster. Then just when I feel my orgasm barreling down again, he growls against my face, “Don’t even think about coming yet, Brynn. We’re not done yet.”

“Deacon, oh God... I can’t?.?.?. Please,” I plead.

“Not yet, baby.” His lips are everywhere, greedy for the taste of my skin as pleasure wars with pain, bringing me to new heights I never knew existed.

Rough fingers dig into both hips in a bruising hold, and I’m pulled down onto his hard cock. And when I’m sure I can’t take any more, his hand slips between my legs, running through my soaked sex, and drags my juices along the crack of my ass, circling without pushing inside.

“Oh, God. Deacon. I can’t...” I plead as my legs threaten to give out, and without warning, he plunges one finger inside me, stealing my last shred of sanity.

It burns and stings and somehow feels so fucking good as he slams into my pussy over and over while he fucks my virgin ass. First with one finger, then two, until I shatter in a pulsing, throbbing orgasm, unable to see anything but a kaleidoscope of colors in front of my eyes.

Deacon seals his lips over mine, swallowing my hoarse screams while I shake under him until he explodes inside me, filling me completely.

“My fucking wife,” he whispers against my mouth as he fucks me through another orgasm, any semblance of control from either of us completely eviscerated.

The world around us ceases to exist as I’m lifted in strong arms and carried to the bed.

Deacon pulls me against him, and I drift off, knowing nothing will ever be the same.

Have you ever heard a rumor so juicy you can’t wait to sink your teeth into it?

Well, this reporter has been given a tip that I’m still working to confirm.

Until then, let me wet your palate with this:

another Kroydon Hills hottie may be off the market.

Details coming soon!

#KroydonKronicles

DEACON

Iwake up the next morning, expecting to find Brynlee next to me. But when I reach for her, the bed is empty—again. One of these goddamn days, this woman is going to still be in bed in the morning. After a quick shower—that’s more than necessary since I smell like sex... really fucking good sex... and I have a nine-year-old, who’s also somewhere in this house—I go on a hunt for the ladies in my life.

They’re easy enough to find. I just have to follow the sound of giggling and the smell of coffee and bacon. Brynlee’s plating up scrambled eggs and bacon, while Kennedy sits on the floor with Winnie between her legs, playing tug of war with a squeaky, purple polka-dotted dinosaur.

“Morning girls.” I walk up behind Brynn and press a kiss to her head.

“Good morning, Coach.” She runs her thumb over my lips and smiles a sweet kind of smile, and I’m reminded of what she said last night about peace. “There’s bacon and eggs on the counter, and coffee is in the pot. Kit Kat, make sure you wash your hands before you eat.”

Kennedy pops right up and goes over to the sink. “Okay, Brynnie. Do you want orange juice, Dad?”

I clear my throat and look between the two of them and wonder what kind of alternate universe I woke up in. “Kit Kat?”

Brynn and Kennedy give each other some kind of an inside look, and swear to God, I may pinpoint that as the moment I fell in love with my wife. Although it’s probably more like the moment I realized it. Pretty sure I fell weeks ago.

“So,” Brynn starts. “Your daughter asked what she should call me.”

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