Page 44 of Trust Me With Forever

Aunt Lori:Nah, it’ll probably make him all hot and bothered and want to try the scenes out with you. You can thank me later.

Me: Remember when I said no meddling?

Aunt Lori:It’s not meddling, it’s an education. I’ve given some books to Zach and Zane already. Maybe it’ll help them find women of their own.

Me:I’m surprised they didn’t throw it back in your face.

Aunt Lori:Zach looked happy and interested, but Zane was tempted to throw it, I could see it in his eyes. Still, I highlighted passages and quotes to help.

Me: Oh, I wish I could’ve seen their faces!

Aunt Lori:I swear Zane blushed after reading the first one.

Me:I love you, Aunt Lori. But let me try handling Rafe first, okay?

Aunt Lori:Fine. But I’ll put together some books for him just in case. Now, go enjoy that sexy man of yours.

I’d come up with a half-dozen plans on how to seduce my husband. Not a single one of them had included a spider.

And even though I’d screamed and kneed him in the groin, Rafe had still wanted me. As soon as he kissed me, my reservations and hesitations and insecurities faded away. The more confident version of myself before the disaster in San Jose came rushing back, and I teased his hard cock over his jeans, driving him wild, and even managing to toss aside my towel without hesitation.

The hungry look in Rafe’s eyes had only made me wetter, and before I knew it, I was on my back on his bed, Rafe kneeling between my legs, telling me he wanted to taste me first.

I’d barely blinked—no man had ever wanted to go down on me without some sort of coaxing—before Rafe was licking and lapping and nibbling. Every stroke made me crazy, and I arched my hips as he lightly fucked me with his tongue.

I wanted to move, to have his tongue on my clit, but he kept me in place, stoking my desire higher.

While close, my orgasm was just out of reach. I didn’t know if I wanted to scream at him or ask for more. Then he lifted his head, and I cried out in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, wife. I’m not done yet.”

It was the second time he’d called me his wife while I was naked, and it sent a rush of wetness between my legs. As a teen, I’d dreamed of marrying him for years. And now? The more time I spent with him, the more I wanted it to be real.

Before I could tell myself to stop being stupid, he traced a finger around my clit without touching it, and again before lifting my hood and blowing across my aching bud.

“Rafe…please. I’m so close.”

“Keep your eyes on me, Abigail. I want to watch you fall apart.”

I struggled to obey, but managed to. And with a growl, he took my clit between his lips and teased me with his tongue. Slowly at first, then faster, and I tried to arch toward him but couldn’t move.

Then he lightly suckled and pleasure coursed through me, wave after wave, my pussy clenching and releasing. To the point I forgot about everything but my orgasm and Rafe’s tongue as he drew it out.

I whimpered, torn between asking him to stop and riding it out longer. Eventually, he gentled his strokes, and I sighed, melting into the mattress.

He wasn’t done, though, and thrust his tongue inside me and groaned. For a few seconds, he lapped like a man starved before he finally raised his head. “So fucking perfect and sweet. I’ll never get enough of your taste, Abigail.”

For a split second, my heart skipped a beat, wondering if maybe—just maybe—this marriage would become real at some point.

But then I quickly pushed that thought aside. I still didn’t know the grown-up version of Rafe, and for all I knew, he’d eventually hurt and abandon me like so many others had in my life.

He frowned. “What’s wrong? You just tensed up.”

I tried to laugh, and it came out strained to my own ears. “Nothing, just coming back down from my orgasm.” I put out a hand and brushed the hair from his forehead, reminding myself I could have the physical side and nothing more. “Tell me you have a condom in here so we can finish this.”

Okay, that hadn’t been the sexiest way to put it.

Rafe noticed, too, and backed away from me. My skin turned cool, instantly missing his furnace-like heat.

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