Page 38 of Pucking Curves

“I’m good.” I wink before limping from our box to go have my knee looked at.

“You should really ice that again, Archer,” Wren says two hours later, eyeing me from across the bedroom. “It’s still swollen.”

“It’s fine, little bird. The swelling is minimal.” As expected, the knee is just twisted. It’ll be fine with a little ice and rest. Neither of which is on my mind with my wife standing in front of me wearing nothing but my jersey and that look on her face.

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to show you just how fine I am.”

“We are not having sex when you’re injured, Archer!” she huffs…but she strolls toward me anyway.

I snag her around the waist, hauling her onto my lap.

“Your knee!” she cries.

“You aren’t on my knee, baby. You’re on my lap.” I smirk up at her. “And if I’m a very good husband in the next five minutes, you’ll be on my cock.”

She smiles despite herself, looping her arms over my shoulders. “I don’t think you know the definition of very good.”

“Wanna bet?” I slide my hand up the back of her thigh, palming her ass through her panties. “It means spoiling you with orgasms until that little furrow between your brows vanishes.”

“There is no furrow. You’re seeing things.”

“You still worried about Micah?”

“No. I’m worried about you.” Her eyes are bottomless. I swear to God they are. “That hit was nasty.”

“It happens, baby.” I nip her bottom lip, slipping my hand into the back of her panties. “Want to make me feel better?”

“We aren’t having sex,” she says again, but I hear the little hitch in her breath. She wants it just as much as I do. She’s greedy for it, just like I am.

“You sure about that, Wren?” I yank her down against my cock, squeezing her ass cheeks. “Because that wet pussy says something different.”

“You shouldn’t listen to my vagina, Archer,” she moans, writhing even as she tries to deny that she wants it. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Seems like a smart pussy to me, baby. She’s wet and ready for me.” I slip one hand between her legs from behind, playing with her. She gasps, arching above me before rocking against my hand. “Look how greedy she is.”

“Archer,” she whimpers. “We aren’t having sex.”

“I can work with that.” I inch down the bed before lying flat. “You can sit on my face while you choke on my cock.”

“I c-can’t do that,” she stutters. But she helps me shift her around until she’s straddling my face, her legs on either side of my head.

“Take my cock out, Wren.”

She hesitates until I swat her on the ass.

“Take my cock out, baby.”

She reaches for my boxers, tugging them down. My cock springs free, already straining toward her. Already fucking desperate.

“Now, wrap your pretty lips around me and torture me while I eat,” I growl, flicking her panties to the side.

“I’ll smother you!” she cries.

“Good. Then I’ll have a short trip to heaven.” I yank her down on my face, burying my tongue between her legs.

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