Page 89 of The Sweet Spot
My first thought is,Does a bear shit in the woods?
But that seems a bit crass on my wedding night, so I say, “Sure, I’d love to.”
I undress her then, very slowly, removing one silky piece of clothing at a time, until she’s left wearing only her panties and bra—a super pale pink lacy set that her friends gave her at the bridal shower.
My chest tightens. “My God, you’re beautiful,” I say, my voice nearly cracking with emotion.
Her cheeks flush in response. “Now it’s your turn,” she says as she reaches for my tuxedo jacket.
Catching her hands, I shake my head. “I need a moment to just look at you.” And then, for crying out loud, I embarrass myself by tearing up. But I can’t help it. The realization that we’rehere, that we’remarried, is too much.
She reaches out and cups my face, her own eyes tearing up. “I can’t believe this is real. I dreamed about this so many times, but I never thought it would come true. I love you, Chris. I always have.”
She wraps her arms around my waist, and we stand here a moment, simply holding each other and gazing into each other’s eyes.
I run my hands up and down her back, marveling at the silky soft feel of her skin. Her lush breasts, about to spill out of the cups of her pretty pink bra, are pressed against my chest, and suddenly I need my jacket and shirtoff.
I release her and yank off my jacket and toss it aside. Then, before I can shred my shirt, she pushes my hands aside and unbuttons it for me, removing the tie and cummerbund in the process before I wreck them.
My shirt comes off, falling to the floor, followed by my undershirt. Then I pull her too me and feel her pressed up against my bare chest. I reach around her and unfasten her bra so that it slides off her. Now I have what I crave—her beautiful bare breasts pressed against my chest.
I suck in a breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
She laughs softly. “You survived a car wreck and a gunshot wound, Chris. I hardly think my breasts are going to take you out.”
“That’s what you think.” I sweep her into my arms and carry her to our bed and lay her down. “If I don’t get my mouth on you within the next thirty seconds, I’m a goner.”
Jennie has a very contented smile on her face as I carefully work her panties off. And then I’m where I want to be. My mouth is on her, tasting, licking, stroking, teasing every tender and sensitive spot. My finger slides inside her and goes directly to that happy spot that sends her over the edge.
Her thighs are trembling, her fingers are in my hair, her nails digging into my scalp. I love the sounds she’s making, and when she starts to get a little bit too loud—after all, we’re not the only ones in the house—she holds a pillow over her face to muffle her cries.
I know exactly when her orgasm hits her. Her thigh muscles tense up, her body shakes, and she grips my head tightly. She cries my name as her pussy trembles against my tongue.
I stand and finish undressing quickly. After grabbing a condom packet from our suitcase, I crawl back onto the bed and kneel between her thighs. My hands are shaking as I tear open the packet and sheath myself. She has set the pillow aside, so now I can lean forward to kiss her as I work myself into her soft, wet opening.
I push in slowly, giving her body a chance to adjust, but it doesn’t take long because she’s so ready. I thrust the way she likes, slow and steady, for as long as I can, listening to her soft sighs and whispered words of love. Her fingers are in my hair one moment, and in the next, she’s clutching my shoulders. When she digs her fingernails into my back, I close my eyes and relish the feeling. She’s welcome to claw me all she wants.
When my climax hits me, I bury my face into the crook of her neck to muffle my hoarse cries. She holds me close, stroking my back, then my hair. She peppers the side of my face with kisses. I roll us onto our sides so I don’t crush her.
We lie like this as long as possible, before I feel the condom in danger of slipping off. After disposing of it in the bathroom, I wash up and return to bed with a warm, wet washcloth to clean her up.
After she makes a trip to the bathroom to pee, we cuddle in bed. Both of us are wired, far too excited to sleep. We talk about our upcoming trip to Hawaii, talk about all the things we want to do while we’re there. What we need to pack.
“I’d like to make a suggestion,” I say as we start to wind down and get sleepy.
“What’s that?” she murmurs.
“I was thinking, after we get back from our trip, you could hire an assistant manager for the diner, so you’d have someone to share the workload with. You work such long days. I’d love to see you have more time to relax and just enjoy life.”
“Funny you should say that because I’ve been thinking about promoting Cara to assistant manager. Then, if he’s interested, I can promote Chad to server and hire a new dishwasher.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“If we have a child, I’ll need to be at home a lot more.”
I smile at the mention of kids. We’ve discussed it, and we both want them. The question iswhen. I pull her into my arms and picture her belly big and round with our child. I picture a little dark-haired baby with dark eyes. “I definitely think it’s a great idea.”
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