Page 82 of Flame
I’m going to fuck my wife.
I clench my teeth, fighting the urge to drag her onto my lap and sit her on my cock. There’s something so sexy, so alluring about Bianca being my wife.Being mine.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, her nipples straining against the fabric of her dress.
“Do you want a list?”
“Sure.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.Patience, Carmichael.
“I’m thinking about how fucking beautiful you looked today,” I say.
Her cheeks flush into the prettiest shade of pink.
“And how proud I was to have you marry me in front of my family,” I say. “And I was thinking how much I loved watching you get along with my mom and Brooke and everyone.”
She graces me with a shy smile.
“It was an odd experience in a way,” I say, watching her listen closely to my every word. “I usually have a stark disconnection with my parents and siblings.”
“How was today any different?”
I fight the smile that wants to paint itself on my lips. “Today, I was one of them.”
I don’t explain it to her, mostly because I can’t. How do you explain that you’ve always felt different from your family without sounding weird? How can you verbalize that you’ve always felt more reserved and more serious than the rest of them? I’ve always felt like I was missing a part of their puzzle.
Until today. And that’s fucking weird.
“You know, Foxx, I think maybe you’re too hard on yourself. You realize how much they love you, right?” She smiles. “Even Banks.”
I roll my eyes, making her laugh.
“Are you laughing at me, Mrs. Carmichael?”
Her eyes go wide at the sound of her new title. My heart skips a beat.I like that more than I should.
She recovers quickly and shoves away from the window. She eyes me coyly. “I don’t know, Mr. Carmichael. Will it get me in trouble if I am?”
Her tone sends a message to my body, setting every cell on high alert.
She saunters over to me and stands behind the sofa. Her fingertips brush up and down my neck before she begins to rub my shoulders.
I shiver against her touch. It’s as if my body is electrified, and every contact with her skin sends a shock through me. But I don’t pull away. Instead, I let her knead my muscles back and forth.
“Does that feel good?” she asks.
“Yes.” I groan. “Damn, that feels good.”
“I want you to close your eyes.”
I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I do as she requests.
“Now I want you to imagine what it’s going to feel like when your cock is sliding between my lips, pushing through my warm, wet mouth.”
I groan, palming myself through my pants.
“Pretend I’m licking it—pressing my tongue against the length of your shaft,” she says, rolling her hands over my shoulders. “Licking a bead of pre-cum off the tip.”
