Page 2 of Nineteen Letters
Making love to this man is much more important.
I can already feel him hardening underneath me, so I slide my body back and forth over his growing erection, preparing myself for what’s about to come. I don’t stop until I’m a withering mess of need. Only then do I push myself up onto my knees and wrap my fingers around the girthy base of his penis and line him up with my opening.
His strong hands grip my hips, and we moan in unison as I sink down onto him. This is, and will always be, my favourite place to be.
My hands are resting on his muscular chest as our eyes lock. I rock my body against him before rotating my hips in a circular motion. I know he loves it when I do that.
“I love you, Brax,” I whisper. Although he knows how I feel about him, I feel compelled to say those words out loud.
“I love you too, Jem. So much.”
I know he does.Not a moment passes that he doesn’t show just how much.
He lets me take control for a couple of minutes before rolling us so he’s now on top. He’s not one to deny me of anything, but he’s always liked to maintain control in the bedroom. I’m okay with that, though, because he’s good at what he does. I’ll never tire of this, or the way he makes my body feel.
Braxton reaches for my hands, lifting them above my head and lacing his fingers through mine. We’ve always had such an incredibly strong bond, but when we’re connected like this, we become one.
My legs instinctively wrap around Braxton’s waist as I dig my heels into his firm, round butt, anchoring him to me.
He starts out slow, moving with long languid strokes, teasing me in the most delicious way. Our time this morning may be limited, but I know he won’t rush this.He never does.He’s such an unselfish lover and this won’t end until he has me fully satisfied.
We’ve been together so long now he knows my body inside out and exactly how to please me. I have a weak spot for this possessive side of him, and I love how he owns me in the bedroom.
Things don’t take long to heat up, and I’m now chasing my release, meeting him thrust for thrust. He knows it too, because he ramps up his movement, pounding into me at piston speed.
“Braxton,” I moan, pushing my head further back into the pillow as my back arches off the mattress.
“Come for me, Jem,” he growls, resting his forehead on my shoulder, and I do exactly what he asks—falling over the edge into that blissful place that only he can take me.
When my inner muscles contract around him, his movements become jerky, and his teeth sink into my flesh.
“That’s going to leave a mark,” I pant over his grunts.
A thin layer of perspiration mares his forehead as he draws back and smirks down at me. “I enjoy leaving my mark on you.”
I secretly like that too.
He is still inside me as my hands reach up to skim through his hair, and a dull ache settles in my chest as my eyes scan over his handsome face. Something deep inside is screaming for me not to leave … to stay right here, but I squash it down.
Braxton runs his knuckle down the side of my face as he asks, “Are you okay?”
He’s always been so in tune with me, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he senses that something is off.
“Yeah,” I reply, forcing out a smile, but for some reason, I’m now fighting back tears. Lifting my head off the pillow, I brush my lips with his. “I’m fine.”
Sometimes my feelings for this man overwhelm me, but there are also times I feel guilty because together, we’re perfect. None of our family or friends have the kind of relationship Braxton and I do. What we share is unique and unbreakable.
As I rush around putting the finishing touches on my make-up, I catch a glimpse of Braxton in the reflection of the mirror. He’s leaning up against the doorframe, watching me get ready. He’s shirtless and wearing a pair of grey sweats that hang low on his hips.
My pulse quickens as my eyes rake over his bare chest, and each delicious muscle that defines his torso, from the perfect V just above the waistband, right up to his washboard abs. One of my favourite things to do is watch him work out in the small home gym he set up in the garage. I don’t think he even realises how sexy he is. Growing up, he didn’t notice the way all the girls swooned over him. But I did.
My eyes move back to his, and the adoring look on his face sends my heart into a flutter. The sheer love I feel for this man consumes every fibre of my being. It’s euphoric.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask as my mouth curves into a smile.
“I’m just admiring my beautiful wife.”
I love hearing him call me that. The way he has introduced me to people over the years has changed. When we were kids, I was his neighbour, then his best friend, girlfriend, and fiancée, but my new title is my favourite.
