I thread my fingers into his hair, fisting it when he bites down. “Oh, God,” I cry as he buries his face between my breasts.
“Say it, Dylan.” He lifts his head, capturing my mouth and stealing the words from me. “Beg me like you do.”
I don’t hesitate. I never will. “Please, Reese,” I say against his lips, hearing him react with a soft moan. “I need you. Please.”
His arms brace himself on either side of me, flexed and fully extended as he begins thrusting forward in a slow, steady rhythm. We keep our eyes on each other, never breaking contact. He runs his hands over every inch of me. His lips follow. Then his tongue. He drags his cock on my skin each time he pulls out, the heaviness of it slicked with my desire for him. He gives me his words, sweet and filthy, as he moves in me. He’s wild one minute and tender the next, sliding between my tits while he tells me how hot my tight, little pussy is and then whispering against my ear how he’ll need me forever while he finger-fucks me. I’m clawing at his skin, wanting to somehow embed myself beneath his surface as he brings me to orgasm over and over, denying himself his own release to focus on me. He grinds into me from behind, his deft fingers rooting themselves into my hip bones as he bottoms out with punishing thrusts. My body breaks, bowing in submission as a wave of pleasure surges through me. He tastes the skin of my neck. My breasts. Between my legs. My fingers tangle in his mess of hair as my body arches off the bed into another rolling climax. I don’t think I can take anymore as he crawls up my body, chin and lips wet, prowling over me like a lion.
I grab his face, making our foreheads touch as he slides his cock between my legs.
He enters me, brushes against my mouth with his, and says, “Mine.”
“Yes.”
“My wife.” He lunges forward, then back.
“Yes.” My response is softer, barely above a whisper, and I feel his body tense against mine. Ready to break.
“Dylan.” My name escapes his lips the moment he loses all control. Sweat drips from his forehead to my chest before he collapses on top of me, sealing our bodies together.
And we stay like that, long after our breathing steadies.
Long after the dull ache of his hipbone against mine becomes familiar.
Reese gives me the contact we both need. The intimacy we both crave.
His life.
His love.
He gives me everything.
And I know he always will.
Epilogue
I can’t concentrate.
I haven’t been able to concentrate for over a week.
I know I’m supposed to be contributing to this meeting, but all my attention is on the phone weighing down my pocket. And the conference room doors. Any second now, any fucking second I could get the call.
Papers shuffle. Ian’s voice fills the room again, followed by collective murmurs. All distractions I need right now, but don’t give in to. I can’t. But it’s been like this. I’ve been a walking zombie, present in the office but not functioning at the level I’m used to. Or that my colleagues are used to seeing from me.
It’s pathetic, really. I haven’t felt this unhinged since I first met Dylan.
I twist the band around my finger as my eyes lose focus.
I’ve been told this kind of anxiety is normal for this situation, but constant? Is it possible to have a coronary at thirty-three? The problem is I have zero control over this situation. None. And I need fucking control.
The conference door swings open, grabbing my attention immediately, and I’m on my feet before I even register who steps through because there are two things I know for sure right now.
Everyone who is supposed to be in this meeting is here.
And no one’s stupid enough to barge into this room without knocking first. Unless the reason behind the intrusion is too important for pleasantries, such as knocking.
Dave sees me walking straight at him. “Mr. Carroll, it’s time. You need to go.”
My hand is in my pocket, pulling out my phone. “Why didn’t she call me?” But before he can answer my irritated question, I see the missed calls. One from the bakery number and one from Joey. “Fucking piece of shit phone.” I look around at the stunned faces of my colleagues, giving them an apologetic nod.
Ian’s at my back, hand halting me on my shoulder. He pulls me into a hug. “This is it, man. You ready?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I…” I stammer on my words, suddenly not feeling prepared for the moment I’ve been more than prepared for.
He slaps me on the back, ending our hug. “You’re ready. You’ll be fine.”
I think I say goodbye to him, to Dave, to every person I pass in the hallway. It’s all a blur of distractions. Fucking distractions I no longer want to be aware of. I go over what I’m supposed to do, replaying my role over and over again in my head. The classes, the books I’ve read, marking pages, highlighting shit that freaked me the fuck out. Internet searches and YouTube videos I ignored the warnings of.
“Don’t watch those. It won’t be like that,” she said to me.
But I did. I watched them all. Trying to somehow retain enough knowledge of every possible scenario that could play out when the time came. Needing to know more information than the damn doctors who have studied this for years. I’ve smothered her with my overbearing, overprotective side that’s way the hell surpassed anything she’s ever seen from me. And anything I’ve ever felt. I will always be possessive over my wife, but the domineering drive which took over my body two hundred and eighty seven days ago is borderline psychotic. Luckily, she seemed to have been expecting my behavior.