Page 130 of Some Like It Hot

He sweeps my hair forward and does grip the zipper but at the same time trails kisses over my shoulder, and flicks his tongue across my earlobe. I’m a quivering mass of emotion and sexual need, my pussy aching, my heart breaking.

“The zipper is stuck,” he murmurs, tugging it lightly. “It’s caught in the fabric.”

“Just rip it.” I don’t care.

“Elise, no. You must have spent a lot of time making this dress.”

I never want to see this dress again. I’m going to either toss it in the trash after today or deconstruct it and dye the fabric black. I can’t hang it in my closet and not feel a world of regret every time my eyes land on it.

“I don’t care,” I tell him. “Just get me out of this thing.” I sound anxious and frustrated.

He manages to finesse the zipper down and he slips his hands inside, forcing the dress off of my shoulders. It drops to my hips and he shoves it down past my curves. When it thumps softly on the floor, I’m ready to walk straight to the bed, or even better, bend over the couch, but he holds me there, massaging my breasts from behind, teasing my nipples, palming my pussy.

I shudder as heat floods me.

Rocking my ass back against him, I finally have the satisfaction of hearing him moan a little under his breath. He does love my ass. He also has just realized that my panties have a slit in them, so his finger just sinks deep into me.

“You got the panties with the slit for me,” he murmurs into my ear. “That’s really sexy, Sugar.”

“That’s right. No shapewear.”

“Thank you.” He strokes over me so lightly I want to scream.

“You’re welcome. See how wet I am for you?” I rock my ass back against him and my pussy forward onto his finger. “Fuck me, Blake.”

But again, my husband has different ideas.

He scoops me up again and carries me to the bedroom, laying me down on the mattress so carefully and gently that for a minute, it really feels like this is our wedding day and we’re married.

That he loves me.

Then as I watch him slowly strip out of his suit and tie, undoing the buttons on his suit while I prop myself up on my elbows, it occurs to me that this is it.

This is our goodbye.

I know Blake damn well by now.

After today, he’s moving on. Literally and figuratively.

He will focus on securing the house for himself and finishing the rest of the Racketeers season, intent on winning the championship. There will be no space in his life for me, physically or emotionally.

So he’s saying goodbye.

This is it. Our last time together.

He wants it to be more than just a quick wall bang, because he appreciates what I have done for him.

And because he does care about me.

For a second, I feel the words on my lips, threatening to burst forth.

I love you.

But I press them tightly together. If I tell him how I feel, right now, he might just panic and walk out and I’ll never have this sweet, sensual memory he’s clearly intent on making with me.

So I reach my hand out for him.

We’ll do this his way.

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