Page 53 of Icing the Enemy

I gasp, trying to catch my breath while he plays me like a violin with slow, languid strokes, ratcheting up the tension already building back up inside me, making me clench. He lets my legs relax and fall back onto the rug, then sucks on my inner thighs. I can hear the suctioning pop before he moves to the next spot, then he turns me on my side. “I can go again, can you?”

“You didn’t… come,” I say in an airy, almost silent voice.

“Baby, I’m looking over the edge, hoping when I fall, I don’t …” He runs his finger along my shoulder.

Glancing at him, he seems to be saddened. Before I realize I’m speaking, the words are already out. “Regret it?”

With a miniscule nod, he claims, “I could never regret having sex with my wife.”

“If we fall together, then we’re safe. Let me take the fall with you. Take my body however you need.”

In an instant, he flips me over. I reach grabbing his butt, and kneading his hard as a rock muscles.

He runs his erection through my juices, and I wish I had more experience, but all I’ve done is missionary, and I’m scared.

“Don’t be afraid. I just want you to feel my body from this angle.” He starts off tortuously slow, inserting himself from behind but thankfully stays away from my puckered hole. Holding onto my shoulder for leverage, he strokes me, and his shaft rubs against something that drives me crazy each time. As he gains momentum and his thrusts become faster, he bites my shoulder, latching on.

“Corbin,” I whisper.

“Corbin,” I say in a whisper shout. He’s hitting a spot I could have never known existed by own hand and definitely not from Sonny.

He squeezes my hips with his powerful hands. The callouses scrape over my hot-red skin from the kissing, the sucking, the licking, the nipping, sending a thrilling sensation streaking under my lids.

“Corbin,” I moan. “I… I…”

Unabated, he pummels me so hard and fast, his body is moving us closer to the fireplace. I have to stick my hand out, pressing it against the stone to give him leverage and when I do, he enters me so deeply, my body thrashes, and I shout, “Corbin.”

I fall.

Millions of blinding lights seem to travel through my body, and I feel complete for the first time in my life. Suddenly, I’m back in the present, where Corbin is thrusting me from behind, his body soaked with sweat as he grips me tighter. He’s mumbling, “Just a little more. Baby, you’re perfect. Keep clenching on. Love your body. So wet. So responsive. So resilient.”

He sinks his teeth into my skin as a ferocious growl escapes his body, and he pulls out and paints me and the carpet with his essence. And in this moment, I wonder if he fell for me too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

corbin

We tiptoe upstairs,hoping Dixie stays asleep, although I’m not sure it’s possible after the orgasm I had a few minutes ago. I came so hard, my eyes felt like they were going to pop out. When you squeeze a balloon, and the ends get bigger and bigger until it bursts—that’s how my orgasm felt.

I had wiped Oakley off with my swim trunks, but I look and feel like I just played every minute of a hockey game. My muscles are worn out, and I need to relax in a hot shower. But I also need to clean Oakley up. Blood and cum paint the insides of her legs, and she needs to know that tonight, I’m her husband. I’ll take care of her every need and wish.

Dixie whimpers as we try to pad silently past the door. Oakley gives me a look like she wants to go in, but I shake my head and whisper, “Not yet.”

I turn on the shower in my master suite, then grab some washcloths and some mild soap from the drawer that I use on my face.

My shower looks more like a sauna with teakwood walls and a bench seat and multiple shower heads. We use the overheadrain nozzle, even though normally, I like the water pelleting my skin.

Turning her back to the water, I wash her back. Her shoulders relax, and she lets out a deep breath. I pepper her neck with short, sweet kisses as I continue to wash, but I’m embarrassed at what I see. Little bruises popping up on her skin.

I swallow a lump the size of a grapefruit. Scooting her back from the falling water, I ask, “Did I hurt you?”

She swivels her head to look at me with her big, beautiful eyes. “A little.”

Gently, I rotate, and I see the same little spots on her collarbone and her breasts. I look down at her hips, and there are finger marks from where I dug into her skin.

Oakley notices the spots and sucks in a little air, but then grins with her eyes sparkling, her skin wet and still flushed and says, “You proved it.”

“Damn, baby, I didn’t mean to mark you.”

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