Page 36 of Alpha Geek

Her sleek wetness wrapped around her husband’s cock like sinking into a warm bath. He was big, and she had adjusted to it over the past few weeks of their lovemaking, but the initial entrance never failed to make her throw her head back, and pant like it was the very first time.

She felt Tripp’s excitement as he pressed his fingers into her waist. She settled on top of him quickly, rolling her pelvis in small circles as her husband massaged her lovely breasts.

“I want you to remember this forever, baby,” she whispered as she leaned forward on him, her buzzing clit rubbing against his rock-hard abs. “I want you to never forget how we first made love as husband and wife.”

He was a devilishly handsome man that made her weak even in the most inconvenient times. She rode him, and he thrust inside her, quickly and efficiently, just the way she liked.

He brought her nipples to his mouth and spoke in the fleeting radiance of the fire with the most conviction Amelia had ever heard.

“It’s not possible for me to forget any of my times with you, my love,” he said, and she moaned his name like a poem.

It was fairly easy for Amelia to climax with Tripp, as it had been since they first collided carnally. But clapping her body against his that night in front of the fire felt different in its fragrance and with its entirety.

Tripp thrust upward and rubbed at Amelia’s clit until she climaxed twice, moaning loud enough to nearly drown out the fire. He held onto her waist the second time, running his finger along the mark he had made during their mating lovemaking.

When Tripp finished inside her, she collapsed on top of him. His scent was sharp and musky, like a forest in winter. She wrapped her arms around his head as she kissed his neck, taking in every part of him she could at that moment and etched them into her soul.

“I love you, Tripp.”

“And I love you, Amelia.”

TWENTY

TRIPP

Leaving Amelia after their spellbinding lovemaking session the night of their wedding was bittersweet for Tripp. He was a man who was madly in love, who saw a constant halo around the head of the woman who decided she wanted to be his. He was physically in the best shape of his life, which innately encouraged the various endorphins necessary for motivation, and, thus, creativity.

Amelia understood her presence would be a distraction when it came to writing the book. She took it as a compliment, which it was. Tripp had a ritual that involved going to a special cabin in the woods that had minimal electricity and connections to the outside world. It was where he had written his best sellers and a place that had become sacred and special, like a mystical connection between the universe and his fingertips had been forged over hours of trance-like focus.

He thought about changing his schedule for Amelia, but, like the good, wonderful wife she was, she cut it off before the idea had a chance to grow.

“You can’t do that for me,” she’d said at the dinner table, elbows placed firmly outside the empty plate. “That will disrupt the creative flow too much. Plus, you’ve already said that I’d be too distracting for you ….”

She gave him a sultry wink, which never failed to set him off. His wolf demanded he take her now. Though that feeling seemed to persist no matter what. In fact, she could just stand there in her flannel pajamas humming some old song from the 80s, and it would do it for him.

He squeezed her thigh the way he had a thousand times before. It always made her blush.

“Youaredistracting,” he mused. “But in the most beautiful, how-do-I-get-rid-of-this-boner way.”

They laughed together. Tripp had never laughed so much in his entire life. It was part of the giant puzzle that made their relationship work so well; a part of him, that negative nagging part, told him to wait for the ball to drop. Something must be wrong at some point, right?

But Tripp was a master at compartmentalizing things in his mind where they were supposed to go, a trait that he had adopted from his mother. He put his worries on the shelf of normal newlywed doubts.

He set out a week after the wedding, finally summoning the courage and fortitude to leave Amelia’s side. He told her that he could have the book done within a month if he really focused. He had also never written as a shifter, which his lovely wife reminded him of as they stood next to the car.

“Perhaps it’ll go even faster,” she said, slightly mournful.

His heart seized in his chest. It was a somewhat pleasant ache that only people who were in love could understand. He finally knew the meaning of the phrase “absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

As much as it hurt him to leave, he knew they had the rest of their lives to indulge and surrender to each other. His publisher had been harping on him for an excerpt, and he didn’t want to screw up the good connections he’d forged early in his writing career.

“You might be right, my goddess,” Tripp whispered.

The sun dropped below the horizon as they stood in the driveway, taking the temperature with it. Amelia was only wearing her robe and slippers, looking adorable as always, but her cheeks were blooming red from the growing chill in the autumn air.

“You should get back inside, love,” Tripp advised, pulling at her robe, so it met her chin. “I don’t want you getting sick while I’m away.”

She curled her lip in a downcast expression, but Tripp knew she meant well. She wanted him to write the book; she was just going to miss him terribly.

---