Page 28 of With You

“Yes. If I can make you come in less than five minutes, I win.”

“You win what?”

“Your’re cum down my throat.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to understand your logic,” I say. Grabbing the edge of the duvet, I throw it off of us to ensure I get a complete view of Julian, then reach over to start the timer. “But I’m not saying no to a morning blow job.”

Julian’s mouth wraps around me almost immediately and my hips arch up off the mattress, pushing me deeper down his throat. Determined to make time, I rest my hand on the back of his head, gripping his hair, and fuck his throat.

There is no finesse in my touch, nothing but hunger and need between us. This is how it is for us, stolen touches and rushed moments. We’ve learned the hard way that intimacy with rambunctious children who have no sense of personal space is pretty much non-existent. That means, every now and then Julian and I needed to get a little bit creative, and while it’s usually Julian who gets carried away, I always go along for the ride.

With urgency and fervor, Julian’s mouth bobs up and down my length. He cradles my sac in his palm, massaging each ball, before dipping under and applying pressure to my taint. It’s the perfect combination, every touch and suck, bringing me closer to the edge.

“I’m going to come,” I announce as I glance at the timer that shows we have a whole two minutes left. My hips piston into Julian’s mouth, and he takes it, every short and sharp thrust.

It’s brutal and aggressive and so very desperate, but after fifteen years together, ten of those married, eight of them with two kids, I’m just grateful that every part of him still wants every part of me.

My muscles tighten as he continues to take me to the back of his throat, and the sound of him gagging on my cock has my body ready to explode.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so good at that,” I praise. “I’m right fucking there. Right. Fucking. There.”

My orgasm barrels through me, the rush and speed of it all making it almost impossible to catch my breath. My chest heaves as Julian climbs up over me. I watch him push the waistbandof his boxer briefs beneath his balls, freeing his erection, before slamming his mouth down on mine.

Knowing what he needs, I wrap my hands around his dick and jerk him, hard and fast. My tongue feasts on his, the salty taste of myself adding to the carnality of it all. It’s a race to the finish line now, and I know we’ll both do anything to make it.

My cell vibrates atop the nightstand just as Julian comes apart in my hand and all over my chest. Time is up.

Heavy breaths fill the air as Julian’s gaze darts between the mess on my chest and my face. He smears his fingers through his cum, rubbing it into my skin, just as I bring my own hand to my mouth and lick up every drop of his arousal. It’s filthy and possessive, and the most perfect way to start our day.

Instead of revelling in the afterglow like I want to, we both move like a well-oiled machine, getting cleaned up in record time, only to realize Reese still hasn’t barged into our bedroom like she does every morning, and now I’m starting to worry.

“They’re not still asleep, are they?” I ask Julian.

I open the bedroom door in a hurry, only to come to a complete stop when I see Reese holding a huge, decorated poster board that says “Happy ten year anniversary!” in big neon colored letters. Her dark-blonde hair is in a braid, and she’s still dressed in her pink plaid patterned pajamas.

“Sweetheart,” I say, the smile on my face widening by the millisecond. “How long have you been standing here?”

“Maybe five minutes.” Her chocolate-colored gaze darts past me. “Is that right, Daddy?”

Julian comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “That sounds about right.”

I glance at him over my shoulder. “What’s this? Are you in on this?”

He kisses me quickly on the cheek before murmuring into my ear, “All I was told was to keep you busy this morning. And I think I did areallygood job.”

I chuckle as Reese hands Julian the anniversary sign, then slips her small hand into mine. She leads me to the kitchen where the sight of Rowan flipping pancakes has my heart wanting to burst right through my chest.

At twelve years old he’s growing into such an amazing young man. Already five foot two, he’s tall and forever growing. It’s hard to think eight years have passed since Julian and I walked into that hospital room to meet him for the very first time. Naturally, it wasn’t an easy road for any of us. Navigating grief in a four-and-a-half-year-old wasn’t for the faint hearted, but our own experiences made me feel like we were somehow the perfect fit for him.

“Morning, bud,” I say as I walk toward him and kiss him on the top of his head. “These look great.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs shyly. “I know they’re your favorite.”

I kiss him again and squeeze his shoulder, the bittersweet feeling of watching him grow up sitting like a constant ache in my chest. I’m eager for him to grow and experience the world and gain independence, but I often miss the days where he didn’t want to do anything without me.

“Okay, Dad, you have to sit here.” Reese tugs on my hand, ushering me to one side of the table and then Julian to the other. “And, Daddy, you sit here.”

Julian and I wear matching smiles as we dutifully obey our daughter and watch her excitedly receive instructions from Rowan on how to set the table for our anniversary breakfast.

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