Page 182 of All The Happily Ever Afters

“Show me. Kiss me. Kiss me like you love me.” I miss her kisses the most. When she’s angry and she’s holding back, I know she keeps them from me. And all I can think is that she must not need them like I do. She must not feel the same thing as I do when she lets me kiss her.

I can keep secrets so easily. But I can’t keep her touch as easily. I need to feel it every day. She makes me feel like it’s all worth fighting for.

“Kissing doesn’t make it better,” she says softly, but her gaze lingers on my lips and the fight in her cadence is weak at best.

“Fighting won’t either,” I answer her and that’s when her eyes lift to mine.

“Are you sure about that?” The seductive tone doesn’t go unnoticed, and neither does the challenge.

One large step is all it takes to dwarf her small frame under mine. She doesn’t back away, she doesn’t reach out to me, but her breathing quickens and her baby blues spark with a heat I’ve longed for.

“Kiss me, Chlo. Even if it doesn’t make it better, it’ll feel better, and that counts for something, doesn’t it? Life is what we feel. That’s what keeps us alive.”

Leaning forward, she places one hand on my chest, barely touching me, hesitant and careful. She stands on her tiptoesnext, taking her time to plant the smallest of kisses against my lips. Her soft, feminine touch may feel like nothing to her as she brushes her lips against mine, but to me it’s everything, even if it’s only miniscule to her.

I can feel the faint wetness she leaves behind as she pulls away, her eyes still open. I can even hear her heart running wild so close to mine, no matter if she’s so restrained in front of me.

“There,” she whispers and tries to move back, but I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her in closer to me, forcing her breasts against my chest, her hips pressed to my thigh, and a small yelp of surprise slips from her.

“Again,” I command her, barely breathing. Moving my other hand to the small of her back, I keep her pinned to me. “Kiss me again.” Although my voice is strong and the words are a demand, both of us can hear my desperation, so why hide it? “I’m fucking begging you, Chlo,” I whisper the strangled truth.

It’s only a single beat, a single moment before she crashes her lips against mine, hungrily, greedily, searching for the same thing I need.

The feeling of being loved. Of knowing it and wanting nothing more than it. I could tell her a million times and she could do the same for me, but it’s only when we kiss like this, raw and with everything we have, that we can feel it burning in our blood.

Her nails dig into the back of my neck as she parts her lips and my tongue dives into her mouth, massaging hers with swift, powerful strokes.

Lifting her ass up with one hand, she wraps her legs around my waist and I don’t waste a single moment bringing her back to the sofa, knocking off the suitcase and placing my wife down in its place. She heaves in a breath when I finally pull away from her.

“Bastian,” she breathes my name, rather than the oxygen she needs. I barely get a glimpse of her as I rip my shirt off and I hate it. I hate that anything gets in the way of what we both need.

I’m savage as I rip her clothes from her, tearing down the front of her shirt and pulling her pants and panties down as if they’re scorching her skin and she’d be scarred if I didn’t remove them this instant.

Her panting, her soft moans, the way she lifts her hips to help me and then tears at the button on my jeans, it all fuels me to move faster, to eliminate everything that keeps us apart.

She stares up at me, watching as I kick off my jeans and then grip the top of the sofa as I move between her legs. “I love the way you kiss me.” That’s all she says.

Cupping her bare pussy, I find her wet and hot and wanting. Her lips form a perfect O, and her eyes go half lidded as I finger fuck her, bringing her closer to the edge but not letting her get off.

Her little whimper of protest makes me smile. Her pout, the way she wraps her leg around mine and then digs her heel into my ass… Fuck, everything about her makes me hard.

I wait for her eyes to find mine and hold her stare before telling her, “Don’t stop kissing me.”

She isn’t given the chance to answer, because I thrust myself inside her to the hilt, making her scream out in pleasure before slamming my lips against hers.

Our lips crash and our moans mingle in each other’s mouths as I thrust into her over and over again. Moving out slowly, ever so slowly to tease her and then pushing myself into her in one swift stroke. Each time her head begs to fall back, but she keeps her lips on mine, struggling to breathe, to move away from the intensity, to get closer and have more.

A cold sweat breaks out along every inch of my skin as I pick up my pace, ruthlessly fucking her and claiming her again andagain until her tight cunt spasms around my length and I groan as I lose myself deep inside of her.

Even then, she doesn’t stop kissing me. Her body trembles under me and her nails scratch down my back, but her lips stay on mine. The two of us never parting, my Chloe Rose never leaving me. And we unravel together.

She’s still panting, still feeling the waves of aftershock when I pull out of her slowly and move quickly to get beneath her, laying her limp body on my chest to nestle beside her.

“I love you.” She doesn’t moan the words or whisper them, but they get lost in the air just the same.

I kiss her hair, her cheek, her shoulder until she brings her lips to mine and kisses me gently, but with undenied passion. And it’s only when she breaks the kiss that I tell her, I love her too.

I always have and I always will.

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