I decide to explore further and walk into the smaller bedroom. The furniture in here was clearly brought in from his place in Vegas. Worn and loved. There’s a wooden desk Easton’s had in his room for as long as I’ve known him. Office is written on the outside of the boxes in a handwriting that’s clearly not Easton’s. I assume he hired a service to pack his place up and move it across the country.
I peek inside the box and pull out a framed picture of Easton standing between his mom and Jules. Kenzie sits on E’s waist, and everyone is cheesing for the camera. It’s a great shot, so I stand it up on his desk and smile.
I wander further down the hall to the master bedroom and find a new box spring and mattress sitting on top of a big platform bed. I run my hand over the California king mattress and tear off the tag, then open up the big box next to it and find the sheets.
Looks like it’s time to do some laundry.
Two loads of laundry later, I’ve got his bedroom unpacked. His clothes are hung up, his bed is made, and the little bit of toiletries I could find are on the counter in the master bath. His big bed is covered in flannel, like some sort of lumberjack’s. But it’s soft and smells like fabric softener, tempting me to lie on it for just a few minutes. I curl up on my side and close my eyes. Just for a minute. Just a little rest.
That’s what I told myself. But the already dark room is pitch-black when I feel the bed move next to me before I’m wrapped in my husband’s massive arms. His smell envelops me, and I hum, feeling happy. “What time is it?”
“Late,” he whispers against my ear, sending warm tingles down my body. “My flight just got in, and I got your message to come here and not your place.”
I roll over and rest my cheek against Easton’s bare chest. He smells like soap and sandalwood, and my body roars to life as I wrap myself around him. “I missed you.”
“You look so fucking sexy in my jersey, baby.” His warm lips press against mine, and I sigh and tangle my legs with his. Easton’s hand slides up my bare thigh and stops on my bare hip. His eyes heat and darken. “Do you have anything on under my jersey, wife?”
Butterflies take flight in my stomach. I run my fingers down Easton’s delicious chest. Heat blooms inside me, emboldening me. “How about you find out for yourself, husband.”
He shifts between my legs, and goosebumps dance down my skin, tiny little fires sparking to life everywhere they touch.
He slides his hands up my ribcage and cups both breasts in his big, rough hands, gently squeezing before his thumbs brush over my pebbled nipples.
A bolt of lust tugs deep inside me.
“Easton,” I pant, not sure what I want except that I want it all.
“Seeing my name and number on you is so fucking hot, princess, but I need this gone.” He shoves my jersey up and over my head. Strong lips press against my throat. Hot and heavy. Licking and sucking his way down to my collarbone. He nips at my breasts, and his teeth scrape my nipples. He’s everywhere as he worships my body.
Our heavy breathing becomes the only thing daring to break the silence of the night.
The snow outside practically glows iridescent white from the balcony, leaving us otherwise bathed in darkness.
He shifts down, and I spread my legs when his mouth finally finds its way to my pussy, and he blows a hot breath against me.
I look down at his dark eyes and crooked grin and can’t look away.
Easton Hayes is intoxicating.
He gives me a confidence I’ve never had before, and I love it.
“I want to taste your pretty pussy, princess.” And God, that dirty mouth.
I tug his hair and spread my legs, dropping my knees open on the bed. “What are you waiting for?”
He runs his fingers along my sex, and those tiny sparks from earlier grow to full-blown flames as he spreads my lips. Gathering my wetness, then sucking it from his finger.
A chill skips along my overly heated skin, and my back arches off the bed when he dips his finger inside me. “Ahhh . . .” I moan until he steals my breath and sucks my clit into his mouth.
I call out breathlessly, my muscles tightening, my abs quivering.
My thighs clench and my knees lock around his head.
Desperate to be closer.
I shift my hips, needing more and moaning when he gives it to me.
Easton groans and sucks me into his mouth, flicking and kissing. His tongue spears inside me before it goes back to my clit. Pulling me closer, he fucking devours me.
The gentleness from our first night together is gone, replaced by a desperate frenzy that’s fanning the flames higher and higher.
With every swipe of his tongue and stroke of those blunt, rough fingers—pushing inside me, stretching me, fucking me—my body heats and shakes. I claw at him. At the sheets. At anything I can reach as my muscles pull taunt and my orgasm sits at the very edge of my vision, teasing me.
His rough hands slide under my hips and grip my ass, changing our angle.
Pulling me flush against his mouth, he growls against my sex, and the intensity of the vibrations sends me spinning. “Ohmygod, Easton.”
My hips lift, and my body throbs like one big heartbeat threatening to tear me apart.
The pressure builds higher and higher until it’s too much.
Too much and not enough at the same time.
My nails score his skin as I moan and gasp and beg him to let me come.
My skin burns as a sizzling pleasure builds to a fucking inferno.
Until it’s too much and I think I might lose my mind.
I look down at those dark-green, hooded eyes, locked on mine, and cry out again and again.
Easton drags one finger inside my pussy as another presses against the puckered skin of my ass.
And just when I think there’s no possible way I can take any more, his teeth scrape over my pulsing clit. I detonate in a violent orgasm that shakes me to my core.
EASTON
I drag my mouth along the inside of Lindy’s thigh, nowhere near done with her yet.
I’ll never be done. Never.
My fucking intoxicating wife lies motionless on the bed with a sated, sexy, sleepy smile.
Like a woman who’s just been fucked hard. But I’ve barely started.
I drag my lips over every inch of her skin and enjoy the soft sounds of Lindy’s whimpers while she basks in the happy afterglow of her orgasm. Each stroke of my tongue lingers and pulls along the defined muscles of her body. Every hard-earned dip and curve remind me what a fighter my woman is. She’s an elite athlete. So much stronger than she gets credit for.
A soft hum slips past her lips as I graze my teeth over her hips. I’ve noticed she likes when I use my teeth. I press a kiss to her delicate abs and swirl my tongue around her flawless tits—a perfect handful—before covering her body with mine.
“Easton,” she whimpers. “I think you broke me.”
With the taste of her pussy fresh on my lips, I take her mouth with mine. Dragging my teeth over her bottom lip.
She moans into my mouth, and my cock weeps in my boxers.
“You’re overdressed, hockey boy.” Her hands move to my waistband, and she shoves my shorts down over my hips. “It’s my turn to taste you, E.”