“I wouldn’t do this unless I wanted to,” I say quietly, rubbing her thigh. “It’s all I thought about while I was away.”
Her throat works.
“Please,” I add, with a crooked smile. “Let me get a taste of my wife. Let me change your mind about this.”
She presses her lips together before she gives me a tiny nod. A deep sense of determination floods me.
“Like this?” She looks uncertain at the position.
I guarantee she’s never ridden a guy’s face before, and Ilovebeing the first.
“Uh-huh.” My hands come to her ass, slipping my fingers beneath the lace to palm her soft skin.
“Right here?”
I grin, thinking about her sucking my cock so well in the foyer a few weeks ago. “Yes, sweetheart, right here.”
Hooking my fingers beneath the fabric, I pull it aside and drag my tongue up her center.
“Oh god,” she breathes.
I let her take what she needs, let her ride my face like I’ve thought about for years. Images of exactly what we’re doing now have snuck into my head at the worst times—in the dressing room, during a face-off, during postgame press—and now that we’re actually doing it, I’m so hard it hurts.
She finds a good rhythm, her breath coming out in shallow pants, and I pull my cock out, stroking myself as I work her clit with my tongue and lips.
“Who’s the world’s hottest wife?” I ask.
She laughs, head falling forward onto the sofa.
“Say it, Georgia.”
“Fine.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I am.”
“That’s right. That’s my girl.”
I press my fingers at her entrance, pushing inside her to find the ridged spot that makes her fall apart. She moans, tightening around my fingers.
Against her pussy, I smile. That’s the sound I wanted to hear. I massage that spot, lavishing attention on the bundle of nerves at the top of her entrance, and before long, her thighs tighten.
“Say my name when you come, sweetheart.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, and around my fingers, her muscles clamp down, tensing and spasming.
“Alexei.” She works her pussy against my mouth, riding my tongue and fingers, and my balls ache with need as I stroke myself faster. “Please don’t stop.”
Those words are heaven to my ears. Her hand threads into my hair, tugging, sending electric currents down my spine, and I suck her clit hard, driving her to the next level of orgasm. A rush of moisture coats my fingers, and the moan she makes is desperate, frantic, disbelieving.
When the last shudder rolls through her and she sighs into the couch, I flip her over, pull my clothes off, and retrieve a condom from my wallet before rolling it on.
Still catching her breath, she reaches to take her heels off, but I pull her wrists away, stopping her.
“Leave them on.”
She grins, eyes still glazed. “I knew it.”
“I think everyone knew it,” I admit, laughing a little, before I sink into her and my laugh falls away.
It’s like coming home. Like being exactly where I belong. Together, we fit. Together, nothing else matters. Her tight warmth is so welcoming, I can’t think. Need pounds through me as I lower my mouth to hers, kissing her, pushing in to the hilt. I pull her knee up over my shoulder to sink deeper and a broken moan slips out of her.