Page 110 of Winning Bid

I have to lean on the steaming tile. “Fuck,” I murmur. There is no other word. Not to describe how I feel. She’s too good, too skilled. How can she do this to me? How can she make me feel this way? It’s beyond wanted or lusted for. We loved each other yesterday, but today, she told the world I belong to her.

Right now, she’s proving it.

I can’t stop from rolling myself into her mouth, and she weathers every inch of me, purring as if this is the best thing ever. She does this thing with her tongue that defies physics, and when she does it, I teeter on the brink of madness. But it’s not only that she’s giving me the blow job of a lifetime. It’s that even now, buried in her face, I cannot wrap my head around the fact that June Devlin married me. If I died at this moment, I could die happy.

But I want more. I pull out of her mouth, and her eyes go wide. “Did I bite or?—"

I grab her shoulders and help her to her feet. “You were perfect. But I need to be inside of you.”

She smiles slyly. “Oh.”

I turn her around and pull her hips back as she braces on the wall. Fuck, her ass at this angle is begging for it. But I reach under her for her wet pussy, and sure enough, she is more than ready for me. When I finger her there, she whimpers softly. I lean onto her back, kissing and biting her shoulder. “Need more, love?”

“Please,” she begs so prettily.

I slide my fingers from her and push my cock into her until I’m fully seated against her body. There is nothing like it in the world. Penetrating June is the only thing I ever want to do. Our bodies were made for each other. Wet slaps echo on hot shower tiles as we collide together over and over. But I want more pleasure for her. I murmur in her ear, “Touch yourself while I’m inside of you.”

She leans on her left forearm as her right hand vanishes in front of her. Her whimpers echo on every hard surface of the room. I bury myself deep and reach around to cover her hand with mine, stopping her hand. “What are you?…”

“Not like this.” I scoop her legs out from under her as she squeals and carry her out to the bathroom countertop.

“You’re going to drop me!”

“You think I’d let you fall?” There, I bend her over the countertop and take her hands to brace them on the mirror as I slide deep into her again. “This way, I get to watch you come while I’m behind you.”

Her lips part in a pretty gasp, and I play with her clit while I drive into her. Slower this time. More deliberate. Staring into her eyes while I do this is enough to make me come, but I need her to come first. Nothing else matters.

June rocks herself back to meet my thrusts and wriggles against my hand at the same time. She yearns for it, and her whines send me even closer to my own climax than I care to admit. One day, we might play orgasm denial games, but not today.

Today, I need to make my wife come on my cock.

I slightly twist my hips to find her spot again, and when I feel the rough texture of it and hear her gasp, I know I’m there. She slaps the mirror, looking for some way to get the tension out. But it’s her words that get me. Her voice is high-pitched when she squeaks, “So … close!”

I am determined to hold back, but the moment she comes, her body milks me, and I’m done. Every bit of pleasure shoots through me, and I come, bellowing as loud as she is. Bliss is too gentle a word for this.

Euphoria. Heaven. Something the poets haven’t imagined yet.

Panting, I press my forehead to her slick shoulder. Her hair is still wet from the shower. I kiss her there and murmur, “Think we were supposed to get cleaner. Not this.”

She giggles. “Shower, round two?”

“Yeah. We can try that.” But the three steps to the shower are perilous on weak knees. We both make it, but it’s a challenge. June’s curly hair is long and straight in the shower, and she looks so different that way. I smile at her, and she gives me a funny look. “What?”

She smiles. “Why are you staring?”

“Sorry, I—no. I’m not sorry. I love staring at you.”

Her cheeks go pink, and it’s utterly precious. “Why are you doing it?”

“I love your hair curly, but it looks good this way, too. Perfect if you ever want a disguise because I swear you look like a whole other person with it straight.”

“I used to straighten it, actually.”

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“It was right after college when we didn’t see each other. With my hair doing whatever it feels like, I thought it was more professional to have it straightened.”

The concept makes me frown. “How is that more professional?”

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