Page 84 of The Bonds We Break
It’s her favorite place. It’s mine too.
She reaches between us and unbuttons the black jeans she’s wearing. It takes me a second to figure out what she’s doing. In the next second, I’m on my knees in her kitchen, untying the hiking boots she slipped on to trudge in the snow.
Less than a minute later, she’s naked, her ass perched on the kitchen table. “Utterly fuckable, duchess.”
She grins and lies back, her heavy tits jiggling as she gets comfortable.
I lean over her, my cock aching, and place my fists on either side of her head. “How was the wine?”
“Might be my new favorite thing.”
I take the bottle, place my thumb over the opening, and allow a splash to escape over her nipple. It immediately puckers with the chill of the wine, and I suck it into my mouth to warm it again. I slide my hand to her other breast and rub my thumb in circles over her nipple before I tug on it.
She gasps when I pour wine into her belly button then slurp it up.
She gasps again when I trickle the ice-cold liquid over her clit and follow it with hard sweeps of my tongue.
Her hips roll looking for my cock, and I oblige, lining it up so she can rub against it through my boxer briefs to get the pressure she likes. Rae threads her fingers through my hair and tugs hard. Secretly, I fucking love it when she does that. With Rae, I don’t have the usual clues for when a woman’s turned on. Makes me realize how I always confused being wet with being aroused.
With Rae, I pay attention to all the small signals.
“Please,” she gasps. “Fill me, Uther. I want you.”
And fuck if hearing her call out my real name doesn’t cause a rush of blood to my cock. Weak winter sunlight streaks through the kitchen window, slashing across the side of her face and chest. I study her as I slide my briefs down my legs. I don’t have lube handy, but when she pulls her feet up to perch them on the edge of the table, there’s glistening right on the lips of her pussy.
“Fuck me,” I whisper. She’s wet. And I want my cock in it so bad, yet I want to taste it. Taste her again.
I also don’t want to do anything that will fuck with whatever accelerator is doing it for her right now. I can ask her later.
Instead, I shove my boxers down, line up against her, and swirl the head of my cock in her juices.
I’ve been with women who could get wetter than a running tap, but this tiny fucking miracle feels so good—it’s like her pussy is a magic lamp and I’m fucking Aladdin.
Slowly, I ease into her as she throws her arms over her head.
I press down on her mound, holding her in place.
“Rae,” I gasp. “Fuck, sweetheart.”
When I pull out, she moans my name. She hasn’t realized what’s happened yet. But when I slide out, I see a smear of her cream. I catch some on my thumb and suck it into my mouth. She tastes even better than she feels.
I swear my heart cracks wide open and spills out over her kitchen floor.
There are many battles I’ve fought and won, but this little victory makes me feel a thousand feet tall.
And then it dawns on me.
It was trust.
That’s all she needed. And she trusts me.
She trusts me to keep her safe.
She trusts me with her around alcohol.
She trusts me with her heart and mind and body. I reach for her hands and move them over her head, holding them there.
I hear the shunt of the table legs on the floor as I thrust into her. With every slow slide, my chest cracks open a little more.
