Page 89 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

“Oh dear God!” I moan.

A sweet burn has ignited and Tom’s focus grows intense, then as if he might stop he teases me. Hovers away. Flicking me when I least expect it. Hovers again. Long kisses. A little bit of tongue. Another series of flicks that drive me absolutely out of my mind. I start whimpering, “Please!” My husband grabs me, holds me down, and licks me until I fly over the edge.

He kisses his way up, and I throw my arms around him. “Can I do that to you?”

“Later. Now it’s all about you. I think you’re as wet as you can get, so I’m hoping I don’t hurt you.” His knee moves my legs open again and he shifts his hips, ever-so-slowly entering me. “Are you ready for me?” I gasp at the initial shock. The bite of pain. My inner walls releasing years of tension and loneliness. Tom’s gaze locks with mine, filled with love, patience. Hunger. “Breathe, Zoe, I’m right here.”

“Sorry!”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.”

We begin to move. Each thrust slow thrust as I give way to him, feel more connected to him, more in love, more alive.

“Does it hurt?”

I breathe, “It did at first. Not anymore,” pressing my breasts into his hard pecs with the arching of my back. “You feel so good, Tom!”

“I can’t even explain how amazing you feel,” he tells me. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

I whisper, cupping his face as our hips move in time together, “I’m here.”

“I want to remember so I will never take you for granted. I will never allow myself to forget that you almost slipped away and made my life empty for the rest of my days.”

I gasp, “Oh Tom!”

He crashes a kiss into me and grinds me senseless.

As I reach the peak, he kisses me, “You’re there aren’t you?”

I cry out, “I think so!” and he buries his face into my neck, groaning as our bodies move, made for each other. Made for this. My husband’s arms wrap around and hold me tight as we surrender to the feelings that wash over us.

I’m exactly perfect.

So this is what sex is.

What love with a good man feels like.

This is where I’m meant to be.

“Sweetheart, wake up,” I hear him say.

My eyelashes flutter open and I peek at him. “Did I fall asleep?”

“It gave me a chance to warm this wash cloth.” He spreads my legs and gently washes me. “Might have to clean up again after you walk around a bit.” He winks and I laugh, feeling safe in his care.

I jog my chin, “What’s that?” to the leather-bound journal lying on the tiny bed with us.

Tom’s muscles flow as he walks the wadded wash cloth to the bathroom, his backside tight and gorgeous under broad shoulders I’ve never seen bare before. “Don’t touch that book.”

“I want to touch you.”

He tosses the cloth in the sink and returns to me, one hand giving himself a long stroke as he cocks an eyebrow at me. “And I want you touch me. Just not yet. We’ll get back to that in a second.”

I sit up, cross my legs, and he sits in front of me with one leg off the bed, foot firmly on the floor. Ralphie leaps onto the small square of mattress we’re not filling, and stretches like,You guys done with that weird stuff you were doing?

I lift him for a pet while Tom opens up the book, and removes a ribbon from where it was tucked, letting it dangle long. “I have something to read to you.”

“Oh? Is it a poem?”

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