Page 40 of Wake Me Up
Kissing my wife.
I’ve kissed a lot of women in my day, but when we kissed, that’s all it was—a kiss. When I kiss Freya, my cock may be hard and swollen, but she’s also got my heart beating quickly and my knees weak when her lips work against mine.
A soft moan escapes her mouth, and I eat it up, kissing her even harder, feeling her body buckle against mine. We might have kissed at our ceremony, and that was a damn good kiss. But this? This is out of this fucking world.
I slide my hands down her waist, gripping the wet fabric of her shirt and digging my fingertips into her. I’m painfully fucking hard, and my head is fucking spinning. I desperately want to take it further, but not so far that she hates me for it once she snaps out of this desperate trance.
Her hands find my chest, clawing at my shirt like a madwoman, and she moans against my mouth just before her tongue swirls against mine. I can feel how fucking needy she is just in the way that she’s kissing me. And I can hear it in the sounds she’s making too.
I take a risk and step back, bringing her right along with me and propping my ass on the armrest of the couch. I lift her and swing her leg around my leg, making her straddle my thigh before sliding my left hand into her wet hair and using my right to slowly push her back and forth on my thigh.
Within seconds, I don’t need to thrust her back and forth because she’s riding my leg on her own, grinding her pussy back and forth on me. I know she needs this, but what I don’t expect is for her to take her hand and rub it over my cock through my jeans. But between the friction of herhand on my cock and her humping the fuck out of my leg … I know I’m going to come right in my jeans.
“That’s it, baby. Ride,” I growl into her mouth. “Rock that hot little pussy against my leg. Give yourself what you need.”
Her moans become insatiable, and so do my groans against her lips. When her other hand slides under my shirt and digs her nails into the flesh of my back, I know she’s close to coming.
Another loud moan that’s almost a scream comes from her lips as she keeps rubbing her palm over my swollen cock, and that’s all it takes. My cock explodes inside my briefs at the exact second she tosses her head back, riding her orgasm out on my leg. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen, and I didn’t even get to actually fuck her.
But moments later, when she’s finally coming down from her high and she realizes what we just did, her face falls, and her lip trembles. When her eyes fill with tears and she begins to wiggle away from me, I hold her still.
“Freya,” I say quickly. “Hey, it’s all right. Talk to me—”
“Let me go,” she whimpers weakly, holding in a sob, but when I keep my hands planted on her, anchoring her against me just before she grows angry. “Let me go!” she hisses.
Reluctantly, I drop my hands from her body, and she shoots off my lap.
She turns quickly, gathering the dry clothes and sprinting down the hall. I don’t run after her because I know I’ve done enough harm for one day.
I knew better, but I wanted her anyway.
I let the hot water run down my body as I stand under the spray and cry. My shoulders shake uncontrollably, and my chest heaves up and down. Since the very first day we got together—until a few minutes ago, I had been faithful to Jamie. And now, I’ve broken our promises.
I understand that he’s gone, but that doesn’t matter because I never planned to move on from him. And then Tripp Talmage came along, clouding my judgment and invading my brain.
I don’t know what came over me. He was being so kind, offering me clothes and a warm shower. My eyes floated down, and through his jeans, I saw that his cock was swollen—all from seeing my breasts through my shirt, I think. That did something to me, and then the air between us changed, and I began to play with fire, letting him move closer. The next thing I knew, I was dry-humping his leg, rubbing my hand over his swollen cock. And when I orgasmed—because … oh, how I did—his dick leaped under my touch, and the wetness of his cum spilled through his jeans.
Even knowing I fucked up, I shiver when I remember that moment when we came together.
I turn the shower off, knowing that I need to get back to my car and pick up my kids soon.
Tripp may be my husband, but I’m going to avoid him like the plague until further notice. I have to. If not, I’m going to end up humping him again.
Only next time, I fear my clothes will fall off.
I’m so sorry, Jamie. I’m so, so fucking sorry.
She hasn’t spoken a word to me the entire ride to her car. She has this lost, sad look on her face, which she’s had ever since she came out of the bathroom.
My clothes hang off of her, and the silence in the cab of this truck is fucking stifling. She doesn’t even look straight ahead—I’m pretty sure because she’s afraid she’ll catch sight of me. Instead, she stares out the window. Her hands are cupped together, and her body language is cold as ice.
Before I pull into the parking lot of the pier, I exhale. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, not wanting to make everything worse. “I’m really, really sorry. I let my own desperation cloud my judgment, and I took advantage of your moment of weakness.”
She doesn’t move or say anything, not right away anyway. When I pull next to her car, I expect her to hop out of this truck as fast as she can. I’m prepared to lock the door or chase her. Anything to make her talk to me about what just happened, but instead, she sits there, unmoving.
“I’m not mad that we did … that,” she whispers. “I’m upset that I enjoyed it so much.” She looks straight ahead now, still not giving me a look. “And I’m mad at myself that it was that easy for you to get under my skin.”
Now, she is looking at me. Her eyes are filled with tears, sending a shooting pain right to my chest. “Five years, Tripp. That’s how long I’ve been alone. And in those five years, sure, I’ve had some guys come on to me, but I’ve never so much as felt one single butterfly.” She looks down at her hands. “One touch from you was all it took, and I was throwing myself at you like a crazed animal.”
