Page 71 of Dream with Me

As I work my way down her body, I hit every one of her secret pleasure points with my mouth. That spot under her last rib on her right side. The spot on her hip she likes me to graze my teeth along. The place on her inner thigh she loves me to nip, then soothe with swirls of my tongue.

By the time my face is buried between her legs, we’re both so wired I know she’ll come soon. But I’m not ready for that yet. I pace things to remind her exactly how much pleasure I can wring from her body.

She moans and tries to writhe underneath me to get more friction as I hold her still with a palm across her lower belly. Meanwhile, my index and middle fingers of my free hand lightly caress the entrance to her pussy. It’s something I know drives her wild, and I continue it in the background while my tongue finds her clit for the main event.

I groan at how good she tastes.

“God, babe. I’ve missed the sweet taste of your pussy.” She whines in response and tries to buck her hips closer to my mouth again. I chuckle and oblige, bringing my tongue back to her clit, circling it, alternating pressure. When her thighs start to tremble against my torso, I know it’s time—she’s so close. That’s when I suck on her clit with exactly the right amount of suction at the same time as I fill her with the two fingers I’ve been teasing her with.

She turns her head and roars into the pillow as she comes wildly under me. But this isn’t my first rodeo, and I’m always prepared to hold on tight for this part of the ride, not to let her come down until I’m sure I’ve drawn every ounce of pleasure from her that I can.

She gets to decide what comes next in this scenario, and as she tosses the pillow away from her, the next word from her mouth tells me exactly what she wants, what she needs.

“Over,” she pants. It’s only one word, but I know precisely what she means.

Like a well-practiced dance, I’m on my back, and she’s sliding down onto my cock in a matter of seconds. Both of us moan simultaneously. She puts her hands on my hips for leverage as she rides me, chasing her orgasm.

For the last few years, when we’re in this position, she’s been closing her eyes and tossing her head back. At first, I thought it was sexy, but then I recognized it for what it was—it was because it was too hard to look at me during such an intimate act with everything that was coming between us.

Tonight, her hair, having long ago fallen out of its hair tie, is spread wildly across her shoulders, and her eyes are wide open. She’s laser-focused on watching me as our bodies come together. Hope fills my heart because I’m certain I’m not the only one who knows this isn’t simply fucking. No, this is much more than that. We’re making love. I’m making love with my wife.

God, I love this woman. Every bit of her.

She bites down on her lower lip, and I can tell by the feel of her body that she’s getting close. So, when I slip my hand between us and brush back and forth over her clit, I’m ready for it as she falls apart when her orgasm overtakes her. What surprises me is the treat of coming nearly simultaneously with her, and we ride out the explosions of pleasure together.

When we’re finished, our bodies and our minds are exhausted. She collapses forward onto my chest, and I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight with one hand while I trace my fingertips over her back with the other.

“Sleep for a bit, chiclet. We’ll talk after you’ve had some rest. Okay?”

“Mmm hmm,” she answers.

I kiss the top of her head and fight the pull to close my eyes, praying that this isn’t a dream.

CHAPTER37

SHANNON

I awaken to the soothing touch of Troy’s splayed hand, brushing caresses from the top of my head down to the small of my back repeatedly. I realize we fell asleep with me lying on his chest, something we used to do all the time. In the last few years, though, as the frustrations of life and tiredness kicked in, we stopped doing this. Yet, I swear last night was the best sleep I’ve had in several years.

“You awake, chiclet?”

A grunt is all he gets. I’m not a morning person, and we both know it.

A sexy laugh rumbles through Troy’s chest, and he kisses the top of my head.

“How about you get up, go to the bathroom, and do whatever else you need to? I’ll go get some coffee, and then we can talk.”

A sense of relief washes over me. Part of me was afraid last night would happen, and then we’d avoid our talk. We’ve never had trouble in the physical department, so it wouldn’t be uncommon for that to happen over the years. When our frustrations, stresses, and everything else needed an outlet, we somehow always managed to come together physically, even though we didn’t always connect on an emotional level during those times.

I lift my head and look at him, careful to turn my mouth slightly away from him before I speak—morning breath and all.

“That sounds amazing. I’m gonna jump in the shower quickly and be out by the time you get back.” I groan as I roll off him to the side of the bed and sit up, getting my bearings.

Troy climbs off the bed and stands there scanning the hotel room floor, I presume for his underwear and pants. Something stirs in me, and I stare at the beautiful specimen of a man he is. At thirty-five years old, most men have gotten doughy or grown outright beer bellies. Not Troy. His body is a testament to the workout he does to stay strong. I know he needs to be strong for work, but it’s pretty hot when I see him swoop up one of our kids and easily put them on his shoulders or race with one of the girls in his arms around the yard chasing Scrappy.

Troy laughs, and it gets my attention. I look up at him.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” he says, winking at me. My cheeks heat—not from embarrassment—from anticipation. After he’s dressed, he kisses me on the forehead. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

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