Page 166 of Reverse

“Easton,” I whimper, the pain overtaking any pleasurable sensation.

He guides my hand between my legs before gripping a lone finger and running it along the side of my clit, the result surprising as pleasure comes instantly. “This, right here, is your sweet spot.”

Apparently.

“Don’t stop,” he orders, and I nod, bracing myself with one arm while massaging myself with the other. The pain subsides slightly as he dips and darts his tongue along my back. “So fucking sweet. Ready?”

“No,” I pant.

“You have to relax.”

I narrow my eyes. “Want to switch positions real quick, husband, so I can give the same lecture? Pretty sure this wasn’t anywhere in the brochure.”

He barks out a laugh. “Baby, we can stop,” he pants. The pleasure due to his subtle movement quickly draining all humor away. “Let’s stop,” he murmurs, palming my back as I object.

“Don’t you dare! We’re doing this. Just . . . make it better.”

Expression tense, nostrils flaring, I know he’s restraining himself as he slowly pulls back and thrusts in. When he manages a few more without an answering whimper, I start to relax a little. The second I do, his strokes become easier as he starts a rhythm, lust oozing from him as he watches me massage myself.

“Better?” He grits out, running a palm over my ass cheeks.

“Yessss,” I hiss as I relax a little more, the foreign sensation overtaking me in a slightly more pleasurable way. He picks up his pace watching my every movement, his jaw going slack.

“F-f-feel g-good?” I ask as I begin to sync into the slow-building rhythm with him, the worst of the discomfort behind me.

“So fucking good, baby, I love you so much,” he rasps out, his voice velvet. “You’re so goddamned beautiful. I can’t get enough.”

“Then take more,” I order as I push back, meeting his thrusts. The act spiking my arousal further as his hunger increases, his eyes flaring unmistakably.

“Fuck, Natalie . . . don’t, I’m going to fucking explode.”

But I do, and in return, I elicit a groan I’ve never heard from him that spurs me on as I massage myself faster and begin backing onto him with every thrust. He slows our pace enough to press thick fingers inside me before running them along my walls. Sensation instantly overwhelms me as he simultaneously seems to push every button I have. Within a few more targeted strokes, my entire body succumbs before seizing. Pleasure rips through me like a tsunami as I toss my head back and scream out his name. A string of curses leaves him as he bites his lip, grips my hips, and begins pounding into me, prolonging my orgasm before he himself capitulates, belting out a harsh “Fuck! Fuck!”

I continue to shudder with release as a flood pours between my legs, coating my thighs as Easton collapses forward with me.

The pleasure subsides, and the discomfort again sets in as he carefully pulls out of me, rimming my ass gently with his fingers before collapsing on his back on the ottoman. Staring over at me, chest pumping, he pulls my upper half to rest atop him and kisses me like I’m the air he needs. Pulling away, he gives me a devilish grin. “That was fucking insane, baby.”

Nodding, I subtly run a hand down my thigh and feel it’s soaked before wiping it on the towel discreetly beneath me.

“Will you start a shower?” I ask, and Easton nods, kissing my lips before turning to give me a grand view of his naked backside.

The last thirty hours or so have been the happiest of my existence. The last few especially. Feeling filthy while at the same time blissed out on the never-ending high that seems to endlessly fuel us both, I discreetly wipe between my legs as he sets the water temperature. Unable to stop thinking about what just transpired, I speak up.

“How do you know about all those places on me?”

He tosses a grin over his shoulder as steam rises from the shower, his dark hair cresting over his forehead. I take a mental snapshot. “I made it my business to know, and now it’s myjob.”

“Sadly, I didn’t even know some of those places,” I bite into his shoulder. We’ve been adventurous before, but our honeymoon has turned into our dirtiest adventure to date.

As it should be.

Like Easton, I refuse to let anything, anyone, or any thought take the happiness from our first day of marriage. Since we agreed to turn our phones off before we got here, we haven’t bothered acknowledging the disaster that awaits us outside the door. But, the longer we keep from discussing our cocoon has an expiration date—which sadly is tomorrow—the more anxious I start to become. I need a plan of some sort in order to feel secure. Even so, I don’t want to broach it just yet. In fact, I want to prolong every second of the high we deserve as newlyweds.

“How do you feel?” He asks as he steps in and pulls me under the spray with him. Limbs feeling like Jell-O, it’s all I can do to nod, fatigue taking over. A few seconds under the water has me replaying our most recent interlude, and I turn my face away as he murmurs his compliments to his “filthy little wife.”

It’s when he sees the blush shading some of my afterglow that he tips my chin in concern. “Was that too much?”

“Yes, Easton, far too much. You don’t have a cock. You have an Amazonian water snake in your pants.”

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