Page 36 of The Frock Up
One year later
I opened one eye, grinning as Millie's fingers brushed across my cheekbones, trailing down my neck, across my chest, and down, down, down in slow, deliberate strokes.
My cock hardened, aching as she dragged her nails across my nipples, her rings flashing in the early morning light. On our bedroom wall behind her hung the picture I'd drawn of her after that first meeting—the same picture I'd given her on our first date.
"Good morning, wife."
She grinned, pressing a kiss to my nipple. "Good morning, husband."
I rolled, moving onto my side to watch her. "Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Hawthorn?"
She giggled, leaning in to press a kiss to my neck. "Maybe…."
"Only maybe?" I asked, stroking a hand lazily down her side.
She shivered under my palm, my cock responding in kind.
"Are you seducing me, Ms. Hawthorn?"
Her breath caught, her eyes flashing with desire. "Oh, yes."
I rolled to my back, spreading my arms out wide. "Then have at it, sweetness."
She climbed over me, her generous curves molding into me as our lips met, my tongue pressing forward until I tasted her sweetness.
Millie reached up, cupping my face, the scent of her perfuming her fingers.
"Did you touch yourself?" I asked, turning my face to nip at her fingers.
She nodded; her eyes dark with desire.
"Fuck." I sat up, heaving her across my lap, positioning her until her beautiful breasts were at mouth level.
"What were you thinking of?" I asked, watching as her nipples peaked, my mouth watering for a taste. "What were you imagining, sweetness?"
"You. And that time in Lake Como with the boat, when we—"
I swore, leaning forward to capture one nipple in my mouth.
"Ash!"
I raised a hand, one thumb gently teasing her other breast. She arched under me, a low moan escaping her. I made a sound in the back of my throat, delighted at her responsiveness.
It took all my willpower to pull away, turning my head to lave her right breast, mentally apologizing for my neglect.
I'm sorry, baby. I'll make it up to you.
"Ash," Millie groaned, arching against my mouth. "I want your cock."
Yeah, you do.
I dropped one hand to press my fingers against her core. With gentle touches, I began to build her up, circling her clit then dancing away, pressing and soothing, building and easing until my hand was coated in the heat of her want.
Millie arched backward, her hips undulating at my touch.
One little orgasm then you can ride me.
I built her up—touching her until she shattered, coming hard and yet sweetly, her every reaction perfect.
