Page 35 of The Accidental Honeymoon

“Jay…” she whispers. “Fuck!”

“That’s what I like to hear, little wife,” I murmur. “Let me hear how badly you need me to play with your clit.”

Her lips part. A high, keening moan escapes her. Her body arches, every muscle tensing. Her orgasm is barreling down on her and she fights against the overwhelming sensation of it. I rub her a little harder, a little faster. I watch with pleasure as her hips start to buck against my hand, seeking more, demanding it.

“Let go,” I whisper. “Isn’t that what you said to me? Let go.”

She screams, her body arching. I keep rubbing her clit, playing her like a violin.

"Good girl. Give me everything you have, Calla. I'm starving for it."

Her convulsions are intense. I can feel the flutter of her pussy clenching against my fingers. I don’t let up, continuing to rub her clit as the orgasm stretches on. Her moans echo in the steamy bathroom.

When I think she’s finished, I begin to slow. But her body tenses. Suddenly she comes again, the second wave crashing over her with even more force.

“Goddamn.” It's a revelation for me; I’ve never been with a girl who could have multiple orgasms, much less two in a row like this.

A surge of pride swells within me. How have I lived so long without knowing this incredible feeling of giving such profound pleasure?

I watch her face. Her eyes are screwed shut, her mouth open in a silent cry. She’s absolutely stunning in her raw, unguarded ecstasy. Holy hell, I love this. I love seeing her like this, knowing that I’m the one making her feel so good. Thoughts of what this means for us flit through my mind, but I push them aside. Right now, all that matters is this moment and the way we’re connecting physically.

I kiss her softly, tenderly, and she responds with a weary sweetness.

“Jay… that was incredible.”

“I want to do it again. Give me another one, wife.”

There's a new familiarity in the way we touch. She giggles.

“You’re awfully greedy.”

“Maybe I just like feeling you come on my fingers. I would touch you all night if you’d let me.”

Calla kisses me tenderly. “I think you really would.”

She has to pull my hand away to stop me from going for round three. We kiss, both laughing. As her spasms subside,I rise slowly, my body protesting from the hot water and the intensity of the encounter.

“What now?” I whisper.

She gets up, rises on her tiptoes to kiss me, then takes my hand. “I think we should just go to bed.”

“No talking about what just happened?”

Her lips twitch with humor. Instead of answering, she leans close and turns off the tap behind me.

Guess I got my answer.

We step out of the shower, dripping and flushed, and both grab towels from the rack. The warmth of the fabric against my skin does little to calm the storm inside me. I watch her as she dabs at her hair, her body still glistening, her movements slow and deliberate. There’s a new softness in her eyes. A vulnerability that tugs at something deep within me.

I wrap my towel around my waist and take her in my arms, pulling her close. The dampness of her skin seeps through the towel. I kiss her forehead, her cheek, her lips.

Each kiss is a promise, a confession. We’re treading dangerous waters, and we both know it.

“Jay—” she starts. But I silence her with another kiss, this one lingering, filled with all the things I’m too afraid to say out loud. She was right to suggest not talking. I don’t want to talk anymore.

Talking will make this real. I’m not ready for reality to intrude just yet.

Calla pushes against my chest and gently separates us. I sigh and grab the heap of our clothes from the bathroom. There is a moment of awkward silence as we both pull our sleeping garments back on.

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