Page 154 of Play Along

She whimpers at the praise, her face falling into the crook of my neck, and it’s then I remember—she’s never touched anyone the way she touches me.

I feel real possessive over that fact.

Her tits bounce and her thighs flex as she rocks against me. Back and forth. Back and forth, and every time she lifts her hips, the head of my dick nudges against her clit.

Until finally, it slips, notching at her entrance. We both still. Every muscle in her legs and abdomen are wound tight to keep her from sinking down.

I speak against her damp skin. “Do you want to fuck me, or do you want me to fuck you?”

If she wants to be in charge, I’ll happily watch her sink down on my cock, right here in the shower. But if she wants me to fuck her, I need to take her to my bed where I can do it properly for our first time.

She pauses, contemplating as the steam billows around us. Her handprints are etched on the glass walls and my dick is poised at her entrance.

“I want you to fuck me,” she finally decides.

That’s all I need to hear for me to pick her up, turn off the shower, and carry us both to bed.

We’re soaking, water running off us, but I couldn’t care less when I cup the back of her head, protecting it to lay her back against my mattress. Wet hair, flushed skin. Legs spread and glistening between them.

Fucking angel.

I stand there, watching, trying to figure out what I did to get so lucky that I ended up in this position. If you would’ve told me three years ago that Kennedy Kay would be laying naked and spread on my mattress, I probably would’ve fucked my hand to the idea, but I definitely wouldn’t have believed you.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

I shake my head, climbing on the bed to sit between her legs, heels to ass.

“What?”

I track every inch of her. “God sure did take his time on you, honey.”

Her smile turns soft and a bit shy.

I kiss a path up her stomach, my hair dripping water onto her belly, her chest, her neck until I’m draped over her, holding myself up on a single forearm.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, my lips pressing to hers.

She runs a hand up my bare spine, hooking her leg over my hip. “I’m thinking it’s about time we consummate this goddamn marriage.”

My cock jumps at the idea and I huff a laugh, this bright smile reflecting on Kennedy’s lips.

Rain pounds against the windows of my apartment and another rumble of thunder drowns out our panting breaths, but my sole focus is on this woman beneath me. I’m so consumed I could almost forget about the storm.

She pushes my hair out of my face, her thumb dusting over my birthmark by my eye before her hand follows the path of my arm, my side, my ass, until she wraps a fist around my dick.

I push into her hand. “I have condoms in the nightstand.”

She doesn’t make a move for it, continuing to stroke me, so after a beat of silence, I reach over her to grab one.

“I’m good without one,” she says to stop me.

It works. I halt right there, arm halfway to my side table.

I would never in a million years consider going without one. But as always, Kennedy is my exception. She’s my wife, for fuck’s sake. If she’s good without a condom, so am I.

I don’t have to explain that I’ve been tested, seeing as she has access to all my medical records and already knows. And as of last weekend, she’s also aware there hasn’t been anyone else for a long fucking time.

“I’m good too.”

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