Page 14 of Roxy's Independence
NINE
Saber
Roxy wasthe first female I was intimate with and will be the last woman I ever take to my bed. In a roundabout manner, life is funny. It takes you in circles, teaches you lessons, slaps you in the face, and after surviving all of that, men like me get lucky. In my case, it’s because I got my Foxy back. I didn’t realize how dead inside I was until that first reunion touch happened between us.
Whenever she’s in my arms, an animalistic need to mark her as mine takes over me. Every time I touch her, her skin sizzles and my blood boils—in the best of ways. As she lays unmoving in the bed, a satisfied smile on her face, I can’t help but admire who she is now compared to who she was then.
Either way, she’s the most beautiful person, both inside and outside, that I’ve ever met.
“Your skin is on fire. I love the way you blush when you’re in a post orgasmic state,” I tell her as I nestle my shoulders between her splayed thighs. “I have a promise to keep.”
The moment my lips touch her pussy, her hips buck and her back arches.
“So sensitive,” I mumble, licking my way from bottom to top. “So reactive.”
“Weston,” she whispers my name as her arms lift above her head and grab onto the headboard. “Please.” My need and want war with one another. I need her, need to feel connected to her in the most carnal way a man can connect with a woman. But I want to take my time, want to make her soar, want to make her squirm before I enter her and lose myself inside of her. With Roxy, when I drag things out and take my time, she feels the orgasm deeper.
At the end of the day, she’s more important than I am, so I do as I had originally planned—I take my time. I feast on her, I suck, nip, and pump my fingers inside of her, adding pressure to the soft spot inside of her that causes her to lose all of her inhibitions.
“Oh, fuck! I’m gonna come, Weston,” she warns me as I double my efforts and drink in every ounce of her release. Her hands come down from the frame and she grabs a hold of my bald head, digging in her nails as she explodes. As she comes down from that high, I lick her release from her folds before I kiss my way up her body. I pay attention to every crease of her womanly body, tracing the markings that scarred her body—the proof that she carried my son, making sure every square inch of her has been covered by my mouth.
As our eyes meet, pure bliss stares back at me. “I love you,” I whisper as I line myself up with her entrance and slowly slide myself inside of her.
“I love you too,” she moans as I slowly and methodically pull out before pushing back in.
I make love to her, I keep every stroke controlled, pouring my emotions into every pump and glide of my hips. We look deep into each other’s eyes as our passion flows out of us. When we’re like this, there’s no question about our feelings. Our love was predestined, it was written in the stars on the day we were born, we were meant to be.
“Come for me, Foxy Roxy,” I plead as that tingling sensation climbs up my spine, letting me know I’m close to erupting and planting my seed inside of her womb. “Give me one more, baby.”
Her body is attuned to my plea, as if it were waiting on the say-so from me to let go. Her walls clamp down on me and she screams my name, pleasurable screams I swallow when I place my lips on hers and our tongues clash in a cosmic duel.
I fall onto my back and drag her with me. Our rapid heartbeats begin to slow down as we drag in each breath. Her body is loose and compliant as I drag the tips of my finger up and down her spine. When her breathing evens out and I know she’s deep into sleep, I know it’s safe to close my eyes and succumb to the darkness.
“Dad,” Canyon says my name underneath his breath as he gently shakes my shoulder. When my eyes snap open and I see the battle in his, I come to life.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, grabbing my wife by her hips and slowly slide her off of me, making sure the sheet is securely wrappedaround her. I know we locked the door last night so our kids didn’t walk into the room and see us in this compromising position. “How’d you get in?”
“I picked the lock,” he tells me, not looking guilty in the least when he admits that to me.
“We’ll talk about how you know how to do that later,” I inform him. “What has you so panicked, son?” I glance over at the alarm clock that’s on the nightstand and my eyes wide when I realize the time. Witching hour. “At three fifteen in the morning.”
“You and Mom left your phones in the beach bags; I heard them ringing back to back when I went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. I was going to bring them to you until I saw it was Hannah calling.”
“You answered?” I ask. I’m not upset, especially since it could’ve been an emergency.
“I answered,” he confirms. “It’s a good thing I did. Selah needs Mom. Like, now.”
“Is she in labor?” I ask, sitting up, leaning over the side of the mattress to grab my discarded jeans, slipping them up my legs and over my hips before zipping and buttoning them.
“Yes. And Hannah is worried because it’s early. She says the baby needs Mom,” he relates what he was told.
“I’m up,” Roxy says through a sleepy yawn. “Go get Egypt up and y’all pack. We need to leave as soon as possible. Can you get me my phone before you do that? I need to find out how long she’s been in labor and what Hannah’s concerns are.”
“At least our family vacation is ending a little early for a good reason,” I tease as I begin tossing our things into our suitcase.
Canyon comes rushing back into the room, tossing Roxy her phone. “It rang again, Mom. This time, it’s Python.”
“Shit,” she hisses. “The one time I forget to bring my phone into the bedroom and plug it in, all hell breaks loose.”
